The Blue Withered Face

I hate you thrice two score
Thou art wretchedly built
Stoutly ill-mannered to thy teeth
Think twice and right before climbing the walls
If not the fall-economic boom!

Gravely thy mirror told back
Skydived the empty blue sky
The green grass turned red
Warriors fell in thousands that day!
When the wind of life stopped breezing
Are you not getting blacker by the sun’s heat?
Till when the scourging sun gets you burnt and your make ups!

Sliently the jungle drums drafts
It’s rhythm in a flat crescendo
The dreary back of the old cat
Swinging down the hazy sea sand
Grey witches had begun to think the trumpets
The swing is broken, the chain cut the batteries withered!
The Bard has sung
By and by the black sky turned violet
The Saharan wind blew the world
Africa’s dream came through
Troops came and men fell
Arabian dreams coming through
The knights we’re too much weak to subdue

Tartuffe’s dream came clean
But he didn’t wake up again
Till when Africa’s chorus rang
Men of war had fallen asleep
So long asleep that Africa’s dreams
Is withering and withering and withering
Till we can no more see?

Africa Africa Africa!

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One Comment

  1. Phillips! Economic boom!😂😂😂😂 Would we ever forget?
    The shock that came that day when we saw all our prescriptions go down the drain, when we saw our lofty dreams go down like a pack of cards.

    This is well writ, comrade. Write on, let your ink spill the tales we have lost our voices to bear!

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