Posted by: Ron DuBour | August 25, 2016

REVOLVER~by Tukur Loba Ridwan




this is the voice of our agony
when we are metaphors
for broken pitchers and splashes
of spilled waters. . .
we are yolks
– mixed with ugly phases
of fate
from fry pan to fire. . .
obliteration has become our portion. . .
we are left behind the pace of this revolver
called earth
when they say we roll with the world
as it does too. . .
but who does roll with this world
when we fall
and fall
and fall
. . .and fall,
until our knees become bruised to the cap
by the abrasive hands of earth
called ground?
we beckon a fellow to become a friend indeed
when we are the friend in need. . .
but this friend is busy rolling with the world
like an object coiled
in the tornado’s tail. . .
won’t we now remain in need for the deeds
of the dreadful
whom we have to beg before we have our way
to progress?
our progress are held in the grasp of whimsical
prerogatives. . .
discretions. . .
they have become gods in mortal minds
and finite flesh. . .
that to kill them would need the fuse of their own
selfishness. . .
then defuse it.
but how can we defuse,
when the ‘we’ are yet a contrast
of objections and compromises
against the compromise among the deprived
to look them in the eyes
the same way we look God in the eyes with no fear. . .
we fear them than we fear God. . .
now, God’s back is turned on the fearless
who rather fear the questionable
when God is unquestionable. . .
the world keeps rolling like a revolver
that this earth has become
and we are left behind by recurring falls. . .
and no friend. . .
no friend in deed
when we are the friend in need. . .
prerogatives prevail
when whims are wielded
by mere mortals whom we worship. . .
we worship our supposed subjects. . .
we have compromised. . .
we have lost compromise among ourselves
to object, and kill them with the fuse
of their selfishness. . .
– to defuse them.
this is the face of our agony
and it keeps crying for help
in a world that revolves
like this.

O’real © 2016


  1. powerful words

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