mercredi 6 octobre 2010


By Tikum Mbah Azonga

I spy a brochure full of archetypes
I smell a rotten rat fabricated by five unstable gangsters
I hear shots coming from stereotyped archaeologists
And sodden and unleavened scars of burden.

I wish you were women to whom I’d hype
Or men for to whom I’d propose nuptial blues for starters
But alas, you’re nothing but boot licking apologists
How then shall I get to the Garden of Eden?

Copyright 2010

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