Posted by: Ron DuBour | July 19, 2017





Image may contain: 2 people, hat and closeup

Echoing goggling eyes
Pocking out from its habitat
Her truncating debilitating legs
Tottering from the effects
Of the strange wind
Her tender bones unraveled
By the powdered ink of impostors

Curvaceous saccharine woe-man!
On your drained busty bosom
Is a waterfall of vinegar_
Famished fuming faces
Crow at your scrape
To fade or be fed?
Guess what?
We‘ve been drilled
Schooled by sway of swindlers
Toad-swollen in treasure-abode
Salivating schemes they profess
But never executed
Denizens forlornly bewail
As termites gobble the terrain
Leaving us with crumbs to nibble

Tell me
How well is our well?
When invaders suck to their fill
While our sobs overflow
Parching the earth to fragments

In the trash can
Is justice quarantined
Scoundrels laugh fairness to scorn

Tell me
Who shall remit
the plight of the downtrodden?
Who shall restore
the missing yams from the barn?

Tell me
once again
who shall aid the opium . . .
recuperating this mangled aged woman
in the aisle of her teething progeny?

© Kingdom Nta.


  1. Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.

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