Holding on to whatever part they can grasp, ear, tail, hoof or head, the men start to tear the goat apart. Gripped with the fever of ripping apart the animal, even biting it, the men are oblivious to its cries of shock and pain.
The dust remains the same. The proliferation of plastic bags choking gaps between houses and in gullies and roads has increased. Positive steps such as using cloth instead of plastic bags in stores is I am sure making a difference, but the beautiful landscape is marred and marked by this worldwide disease of disposable plastic which is anything but disposable. Why is there no organized government collection of refuse? This is a question that haunted me in 2010 and still troubles me.
Lacks grammar not cohesion,
Lacks prose not poems,
Lacks composition not rhythm,
Lacks syntax not semantics.
Though the lyre of my language is broken,
The lyrics it leaves are everlasting.