Crying in Hiccoughs

Our Nation’s Day at Bongo Square

34 Bang Your Doors Callous Plunderers Deceive the Masses, With mailed Ambassadors lying about, Their balloon jaws say it all, The loot was heavy, now it’s worse. With saponaceous shame-proof faces, They hoot the dirge foul-mouthed, And the cursed ignorant Innocents, Flex to death, welcoming their hackers. Stop dancing, you bearers of the bier, They have wrecked the land, don’t you see? If you don’t, your shrivelled jaw bones tell, Bang your doors, Midas is amok. Midas is amok and full of intrigues, He has the cash and the wand, Where one fails the other will succeed, Your best bet, bang your doors. Our Nation’s Day at Bongo Square The fading tricolour: Green, red and yellow, Merged in the mist Of a still morning Shrouding the shamefaced star. Mournfully rose To the beats of drums And blasts of trumpets 35 And beaked by a lonesome pole. In veneration, The armed badged ones, In chameleonised fatigues, Stood in columns untold, Instilling awe in all and sundry, In front of a mortuary Of a dream deferred. Yet, On that same tombstone Of yesteryears painted words, Stood the mailed godhead, With seasoned lips of new paintings, To a battered despoiled posterity. Yet, We, the cursed ignorant ones Received the promises With the same intense tension Of fulfilment and hope, We have made them our second nature, And dance to death, in vain expectation. But then When will this vile pantomime end That disembowels the spirit of EML And challenges the gall of our manhood? When, when will this impishness end That has sewn desolation Unleashing glowing magma On us, the smithereens of their creation? Now, Reduced to the spited of the earth Our rebelling entrails Congealed by years of patient wait 36 Canonise the stride for vengeance And set the pace of drawn brows. So, Now, and now, Chest-pound and shout Great sons and daughters Of Bongo Square, The boundary stone of patient wait Must be put in place To sprout the venom of revolution In veiled Virgins of timing minutes. False Friends Once he slit the godhead With a carving knife, But once he was called To join the looters, Budgets rolled, Castles rose and ladies fell, And cheeks filled up And chins grew double, He hailed the godhead Solomon incarnate. Brother? Brother we are so different, So different in location and history, So different in height and bulk, So different in thought and tongue. ...