The Devil is a spiritual scapegoat
For our failures, foibles, fantasies
Which without shame we lumber on his throat
As on our fellow men we fail to heap mercies.
The Devil dives around dormitories
Where we invite him to sleep on hammocks
Supplied by dubious dignitaries
Who on our feeble minds lumber shocks with tender talks.
The Devil descends on our minds
When fickle fingers from a till frisk funds
Meant to alleviate all kinds
Of ills and deprivations in townships and in market stands.
The Devil feature in our courts
Accused of misleading our extravagant emotions
When stolen cash decorates our escorts
To venues where we unleash our concoctions and distortions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
True John. Well penned. You may read my poem Making The Devil Their ScapegoatThanks