It was
monkeys that fed him
When his
teenage mother threw him
To die,
unwanted child
Product of a
licking condom,
It was he
who held the linguist staff
Of our
clan’s chief, speaking in idioms
Twisting
alphabetical arrangements
To the
delight of human ears;
And all
applauded his wisdom
It he whose
soft stomach
Promoted
human children into
Halls of
stethoscopic academia,
Linguists of
our Chief Justice
And we held
him high
Composing of
him, eulogies.
Today, his
image hangs
Hanging
under an umbrella
On giant
billboards in this same place
Where once
we sang his name in appellations
Today, we
point our left hands
Into his
face, spat under his feet
And bathed
him in our phlegm
Asking who
his parents could possibly be
And who
could in the first and second and third place
Have given
him his thumb to share in that Chamber of that House?
It was
monkeys that fed him
Now that we
know!
12/01/2012
Mafi Kumase
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