Feast of the Maggots: A Poem

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By Dr. Sallah

Flies feast
On the rotten flesh
Before we lick
The bottom of the bowl
Wounded roads
Bite buttocks
Toads roar in the harmattan
Pot bellies burst like blisters
The stench of the decayed living
Fertilizes the bloated soil
Ruptured boil
The lungs of the grave
Drink the puss of the wretched
Vomiting green maggots
And dunkolong.

From the crossing
To the back way
Stealing is good
Corruption nourishes
The wall grows, virtue dies
The aircon cuts off
The flow of blood, to the brain
Clotted arteries
Oozing and gushing
To irrigate.

Banal decadence
Virtual lenses, twisted view
Jum is a prisoner
Mansa bengo of rats, cockroaches and vultures
Power tricks and polyandry.
We have no shame
We have no game.

The necktie chokes
Slavery vogues
Still broods
Reality is borrowed
Introverted
Hell triggered
The results are rigged
They can only go one way
Another way.

Death eats the patients
Sellers have been sold
Jalangs have never foretold
The peanuts grow cancer
Tribe is banter no more
The market is constipated
Hewers of wood
Drink your piss
Let the vultures
Desecrate your carcass
Feast of the maggots.

Reference
Sallah, M. (2018) The Dictator and the Heretic. Leicester: Global Hands Publishing.

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