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An entry in The Crocodile Prize Kina Securities Poetry Award
Strangers teach you to sing songs and march to a drum that they own;
To reject your garamut, your kundu and the stilled speech of wood;
Their soporific chorus dulls your mind and cheats your Black soul.
Posted in Crocodile Prize 2014 | Permalink
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Wow! Poignant three lines for the past, present and the future...
Roseanne O'Rourke |
11 January 2014 at 08:38 AM
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