On a Stinky bed of denial
He was painfully delivered
Eyes soured
From scream of innocence -
His last he hoped - borne from the burning grip
Of ethnic partiality
Robbed off of his political birthright
He surged to the wee hours
Of a new dawn
But he opposed like a virtuous woman
Corruption from penetrating the sacred corridors
Of his virgin prospects
Then to a sweetened bond of unity
He called 'bakulu'
Surf to the beautiful shores
Of knowledge and power
Yes! The most amiable aristocrats
Chose not to be labeled carpenters
Comments
oops, I think I like this a lot,
but poetry is sensitive to its environment and I don't think I should comment right now.
For starters I'm drunk and pissed off at a lot of other things so I promise to come back to it. Bookmarked and pocketed, ok?
Sorry about that.
{in nothing like an Arnie accent]
I'll be back.