Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2017
When great ******* dance, righteous white people cower before the death chant of Zulus  I'm hungry for lamb. Have you a lamb that I may immediately eat? I have pink, new-born lamb innards stewed in ewe juices from the Greek Isle of Crete, thin infant ribs on a tin baking sheet, blanched teeny kid feet & embryonical, scrotal sac nuts salted lightly as a post-dinner treat.
๐—ฆ๐˜‚๐˜‡๐˜† ๐—•๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—น๐—ถ๐—ป๐˜€๐—ธ๐˜†
Written by
๐—ฆ๐˜‚๐˜‡๐˜† ๐—•๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—น๐—ถ๐—ป๐˜€๐—ธ๐˜†  หขโฑแตแต–แตƒโฟแต แดฎแต‰แตˆแต’แต, หขโฑโฟแตแตƒแต–แต’สณแต‰
(หขโฑแตแต–แตƒโฟแต แดฎแต‰แตˆแต’แต, หขโฑโฟแตแตƒแต–แต’สณแต‰)   
263
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems