samedi 19 décembre 2009


By Tikum Mbah Azonga

I am the mid road man
I creep like the silent plant
Where I go, only monks enter
Where I sit, only kings men can posit.

The thunder has shut up
The rain has ceased
The fire is going out
And you, you wear a cynical smile.

Don’t take it out on me
I mean you no harm
I’m only a mid road man who weeps
I can never claim to be your boss.

© 2009

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