this west coronation
that gather bunch of vengeance against us
hidden in humanity use as bludgeon
to impose kaul on our strong elite.
losing my land to these hags of hypocrite
burns and boil in my heart like acid
with painted favors leading them astray
turning me and using me against myself
this west of wrath
that blows in every corner of the ark
bobbing and garnering our borax
living us towards that bleak future
oh maker why me a jinx?
with all boons taken away from me
making us to booth and boor
yet we ennoble to the heroes in Africa
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.