Welcome To The Round Beehive Hut Casino Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

If you thought there would the roulette,
or the slot machines, the gamble is over.

Here we toss numbers in the air and grab
them as words. We win if we milk the air.

It pours out according to where the beast
called the what-you-call stands facing.

The tiger in you has to wiggle it's tail,
look other beasts in the face.

The jackpot is hidden under a grinding
stone. Ask the maize farmer.

The wife who hurt her fingers while grinding talked with her knees and arms.

She said it is because of love of family
that we try so hard.

The jackpot lies in the bee hive hut,
simple tons of the world.

Why go to the palace of the Caesars
when Caesar died because a conspiracy.

Why provoke poverty when it lies down
like a defeated bulldog.

You like to dress up and be led by neon
lights. You then come back miserable.

The Good Lord said it a long time ago that
Caesar had his head not yours on the coin.

In my gambling there is no bride price for we gamble with the naked truth.

You either have it or you don't for I cheat not. Empty handed you come and play.

The more truthful you, the more the tokens. Who said you cannot win.

Come into my casino and weigh your heart,
Only the lightness of the light counts.

Go dear gambler and lose your last penny.
Just make sure I told you this truth.

My impart at ions were yelled at me inside a hut where my grandmother told by truth.

Listening to this one will have you walking on the ridges at the top.

All will wonder why the coup on
Caesar. The jackpot will not be shared.