burnt the old dirty drum
that shouted and sang the old song.
When joy receded into boredom,
there still stood a pillar of hope
for a new song.
With two new sticks in hand,
the chief drummer strikes
hard at the new drum for a new song.
The itchy ears listen with gaiety,
the feet perambulate amidst clouds
of suspending dust particles.
The succulent breasts dangle and dangle.
The eyes glitter with smiles like rainbow colors.
The heart throbs happily up and down-
All in enjoyment of the song of
Democracy.
« return.