Blood-Fest Poem by Samuel Chuma
Blood-Fest
I will serve you a dish
of my bloodied thoughts
that you can chase up with
a glass of my murdered dignity
the ground splinters
of my snuffed dreams shall be
the seasoning you use
as you feast on my expectations
you shall sit on the high table
and hold counsel with others of similar ilk
while snacking on the remnants of your humanity
at this devil's unholy banquet....
(29th May 2008-Harare, Zimbabwe)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 5:36:53 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
