:::::BLACK CHRISTMAS::::: Fresh bones heaped on the countrys red snows, Tender vultures sang the joy of Christmas come, Grass of coffins on the countrys flag seen, And echoes of wandering bullets fly by, With good tidings?(a child has been born in Sambisa forest). The Harmattan wind mixed with smoke and flesh, White vultures, the child, their homage paid, Spilling scarlet wine in a tensive pour, Dancing to the music of an abrupt harvest. Roses are blood, on the floor are roses, With barns of corpse harvested each year, This years harvest was bountiful. The saviour ridden to Sambisa to be born, On a black virgin-horse towards the harvest moon. The world was painted in red and black, On a night flowing with bats in the red moon, And the grave was a mere play ground, With our bloods climbing over our floods, And Noahs flood was a mere brook...... Improvised by Lawzy. Copyright2014
Posted on: Fri, 26 Dec 2014 09:53:58 +0000
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