© Peter Lungile Chidothe
Hail the king, hail the king, you dwellers of all kind
Be gentle, be still, for here he comes
Fluff fluff fluff
Hiding his madness in intoxication
He roasts his words and its smell melts
and evaporates to the lazy winds
Clunk clunk clunk
Like the noise on tinsmiths hammering skeletons
of empty tins in empty streets
His knights carrying blunt swords
His cry men wearing hoarse voices
To make way for the liege
Smiling to the futile wonky ululation
As a sign of triumph
Hail the king. Hail the king. Chumps of mankind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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