Pass On Calls Poem by Paul Mwenelupembe

When the cock is truly booted out over snows
It croaks, pass on the calls, so did the cock
The down graded window of the eyes's sores
Retake the push, sliding on a running nose
The flue shaped its nose of rose garden
Phone calls, doubles it upon the Idol burden
And gummed it just the ears of the blood
And said, finish the old, the owed debt of abroad
Finish oops! Finish and furnish the gotten sense
The cock startled, the king had said
The school warrior on the anthill
It didn't learn that lesson point blank
It drowned along time ago, its lung full of water
It ended, the click at heart in springs