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They say that Africans, Will have to fight for a place on the bus, So I am pulling out all the stops. I am burning incense and, Turning out closets, -exorcising demons- I am fumigating my life, Throwing out old clothes and, Trying to curry favour, -surely children were not meant for the streets, Nor nations meant for war- I have found sack cloth and ash and I, Intend to, Gouge flesh with home-made irons Flagellate until I bleed sin, All over the carpet. There will be gnashing of teeth, And great wailing, -effort must be made- I shall identify, Church pews with nails and, Kneel! But the spotlight keeps missing me, And I manage only to elicit, Splendid chuckles from my nephew.
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:57 AM UTC
Sunday
They say that Africans, Will have to fight for a place on the bus, So I am pulling out all the stops. I am burning incense and, Turning out closets, -exorcising demons- I am fumigating my life, Throwing out old clothes and, Trying to curry favour, -surely children were not meant for the streets, Nor nations meant for war- I have found sack cloth and ash and I, Intend to, Gouge flesh with home-made irons Flagellate until I bleed sin, All over the carpet. There will be gnashing of teeth, And great wailing, -effort must be made- I shall identify, Church pews with nails and, Kneel! But the spotlight keeps missing me, And I manage only to elicit, Splendid chuckles from my nephew.
ipoet
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ipoet
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:57 AM UTC
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