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The poems we write now
Are like the supreme reign
Of a military force
Coming out with the hammer

The village head
Neither understands nor speaks the language
He doesn’t carry the weight of our problems
The poems we write now

Twice they took him away
To a land without a name
The way of a disappearing act
Of a military force

But in all of this
Nothing of the changes promised changed
And all we write maybe
Coming out with the hammer

Bose