Let Me Tell You
I hail from the green land
Really green for sumptuous serenades
But too many grey lepers lay on the succulent carpet
And the milk of my land mills through rotten breasts
The windfall of power brings pesty prongs to her nipples
Let me tell you my sad story
Not the blues from the evening guitar
Listen to the pulse of time’s recording
The many moans of mangled voices
And the jubilant choruses of their silencers
Those now mangled, the lathers
The jubilant mounted through our greenest height
Let me tell you my story, sad
The blues, not from the evening guitar
We talk tough for change
They lay languid in old robes
Expectant of business as usual but
The beastly beards are shaven from goofs while asleep
Change soon sweeps through this clime
While the silencers snore off
Let me tell you my story, sweet
From the blue wake brass, not the night grey gong.
Copyright © Ndubuisi Martins | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment