They say we must not rest. They cause us discomfort and pains. They put a hot knife on the fragile neck of our joy. They whip us, yet they say we must not cry. Hear my prayer for them in the poem below: Liked waist beads of a dancing damsel Like dancing, dangling boobs Of a fleeing braless woman Like a fowl perching on a string Like a leaf on turbulent spring, Let them be restless Let their gods be helpless Like fish out of river, Like the scrotum of a running billy-goat Like the udder of a running nanny-goat Like the dangling testicle of grandfather clock Let their gods be helpless, and Let them be restless Who draw back the unwilling hand of clock What the stone sees, let them see. - an excerpt from Songs of the Horsewhip and other Poems
Posted on: Sun, 02 Feb 2014 09:38:35 +0000
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