Kh Of Ophir I had since, Stick around this passage, On which history and racism voyage, By camels carrying sacks, Satiated with grains of termiteous words, Sown on the soil of our lowly ears, They millipedely grew taller To trim our sidney-bluegumy shoulder, Of the great deeds of our parted brothers. I had since, Been waiting on this passage, To see new coons evolved from extant apes, But we, aphotic stocks of, A plot free from snow and horror, Our ears were padded with lies, In believing them we were holly hypnotized. But my lament, we are yet healed, Did your ears meet with the winds beak That affirm at a time past, A chirologist agaped eyes on our palm map, And say there is no trace to value? But you say a black craft a mediocre, Sorrow wedded our widowed ancestral art Before they went the way of the scimitar cat Touch your musky palm And remember It gladdens Your tongue with sweet meal, Touch your musky palm And remember Mike Tysons fist Remember the gone Samson of Africa, Who put the apartied lion to slumber, Remember the davidic armless hands, That rescued our freedom, From the paws of white lions and beers. O spirit of ophir, Is time you looked into your palm, Once more and assert you can see the magic, Now help stand your fallen esteem. Written by Rex Mayor Ubini
Posted on: Thu, 27 Mar 2014 22:17:53 +0000
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