The Crusader
And we sat under
A gazebo that sat
Under palm trees,
Standing and smiling
At our seashore,
Emptying kegs of
Palmwine in our
Calabash and...
And then emptying
The calabash in our
Stomachs...
An exquisite experience,
I daresay!
The periwinkle-gatherer
Alighted from her
Canoe that arrived from
Upper sea, bending in her
Walk, no gratitude to her
Culture. Beside her followed
Her shadow, ever faithfully.
Their movement our common
Entertainment as we emptied
More fills of our calabash in us...
Entered the Crier, crying, like
A crying Cricket,
"The Archbishop of Canterbury,
And the Pope have now
Legalized a Skirt and another
Skirt together, and a Trouser
And its kind together!"
We unveiled the Holy Book,
In our flabbergastedness,
Afterwards, and replayed
The Crier's cry in our heads.
"A pity, for this shall soon be
Written in you by the Unknown
In Time to come and be said to
Be of the good God."
Were our only audibility.
We looked up and behold the gyre
For the legalization inundated
Our Vicinity! For the Crier's cries
Had spread its legs like a rumor.
Sadly, my partner patted her hairs
And we returned to our kegs,
Contemplating...
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