Concussed Damsel Poem by Phillip Nine Mafunga

There's a young woman on the rot
She seems to run n' scream a lot
Is it madness or jus' the plot
Or maybe she merely wants to catch the float

The young woman's all scorn n' groove
The ants in her head jus' but keep her on the move
Her present is a whirlwind; her past's lost in the grove
In the mist, perilous times're cooking on the outer space stove

When the lights turned on, I saw her on the rock
Music's no longer mellow; her life's on the block
Booze, narcotics n' sex round the clock
Yet, time's still yet for her to come back to the flock
@29 September 2022