Drunked and Dead Poem by Gankhanani Moffat Moyo

I took a day off
To listen to stories
Written by dead souls while deep in their deep sleep
I went on top of the rooftop of the tower of Babylon
And there, with my globe-big eyes scanned
The smooth souls stepping upon
The smooth soils stepped upon
Fair sons and daughters
Left by the now gone souls
Striding upon the face of the earth
Drunken and deep drunken
In their severe fornication
Which now they drown in
How do they manage to walk
In those short, tight skirts
Designed to define their dirty morals
Their bellies,
O' Saint Paul,
Designed to drunken the desires in men
For they are exposed to our sight
To convince our pants to be torn
To convince our pants to be torn
These stories sons I tell you
Are a living testimony
Of death lacerating our morals.