My Brother the Messiah

MY BROTHER; THE MESSIAH By these dunghills, they stood By these morn Mecca, we paid homage Daily to the papyri gong beaters. Singing a litany of collapses and failings Of a revolutionary government that sit’s on our sacred stool A stool that had fattened legs which imbibe our sweat, Polished with elaborate designs, and on it’s head, sat, the rump and rotund figure of father Christmas; our veiled liberator Yes, siblings they did roam our streets With cohorts carrying sacks of decoys and bric a bracs Blowing rhetoric trumpets ,calling for a tune of pipe dreams and petasos’;of an eminent land to be called Alexander the great hmmm! Manumission, manumission Art thou just castles in Spain? Why doth we dream of you in vain till we are slapped with the saccharine taste of propaganda and the dulcet tunes of equality? lay our stockings out for the jolly man and shed our thumbs as ransom for the imminent sovereign only to know that our fathers had given birth to fighters who fight against us vampire bats that drink our blood behind the murk of deceit` and in the words of trust we plant them in our hearts but they blossom and cause harm fatten up and green fracture the wobbly legs of our consecrated stool