The Song That Cried Foul
The
vinyl
flew
in
circles,
Revellers'
minds
spinning
into
an
overdose
of
insanity,
Toes
twitchy,
Itching
to
exhaust
body
and
soul,
Flesh
willing,
Spirit
emaciated,
Jockey's
mind
determined
to
sustain
his
intentions,
Whistles
tearing
roof
as
they
endeavoured
To
pierce
the
womb
of
a
pregnant
sky,
Tears
doubled,
Trebled,
A
heavy
pose!
Silence.
Copyright © Wilson Mapfumo | Year Posted 2013
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