Norman Mwale [The PenPusher]
Copy and paste
Shadows of a smilling past
On the pad of this inglorious
Season
Where vultures combat
for our fathers’ living corpses
So they can deavour all
Leaving no traces amoung ashes
Of yeasteryear
All is buried in anomic memories
A seed ejaculated in the womb of
The virgin and fertile past and sprouted
Now succumbs to neo
Ideologies of rapid transformation
With a past left miles away
From our coombed creed
Which now submits before death
And obscurity
With this sterile dawn deflowering
The rainbow past!
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