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Oh! How great this day is!
Not just for us wanton flies to the gods
But also the lords of the galaxy
As we sit here under the ancient palace tree
Of the ancient kingdom of Bandjoun
And watch its queens gird their royal loins
And sharpen their eternally angelic voices
We breathe the real air of cosmic rapture
And nod to the odd songs of six pence
Sadly we turn our backs to the palepolitician captured
And look to undeserved skies where all are in audience.
Some day, some time, perhaps tonight on the high seas
When the angry waves vomit treacherous rods
And the palace midgets go to roost in ecstasy
The castrated bulls of old may be set free
So the king declares no need to flee to Djoum
At that point will flat-chested women rise to demand coins
Nothing however will change for those with fixed choices
From roof tops will all the kings men of stature
Swear they never saw a pint before the fence
You may judge me a demented imbecile unconstrued
But in the end, only God will prove his omniscience.
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Your writing feels so exotic to me. I suppose that's natural considering the differences of our background, but it charms me nonetheless. I love to read writing with this level of originality.
