Poem: Karachi 1994-- Business as usual

 Why cant we be at peace 

with ourselves? 

Karachi retches out its pain

loudly asserting to our collective indifference; 

Gory heads, 

bloodier by the dozen, 

piked heads,

pickled heads, 

packed in brine, 

the ruddy dye of our nasty minds;

I have been reared on a diet

of lies, just like the rest

of the molly-coddled babes,

fattened for slaughter and made

sterile,

formula-fed fowl

bartered and bled,

stuck pigs 

that squeal in the streets;

Urban warfare

six more die

Karachi cries

blown brains and

rapid-fire rains; 

The birds want to stay 

but they are right, 

they must die--

so must everyone else; 

Some still say we are quite well,

thank you, and going to be an Asian Tiger; 

A stuffed one, I'm sure . . . . 

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from The Anvil of Dreams, 1995