Writer's Block (by Nana Kofi Obeng-Mensah)
I chained the monkeys.
They stare at me, that sickly gleam.
I spit to the ground they walk on, foul creatures.
They ask why the prodigal son,
the evolved man that has returned to their jail:
I tell them, “I came to tighten your chains.”
They shriek in sloth as tourists take
photographs of their ecstasy.
They stare at me, that sickly gleam.
I spit to the ground they walk on, foul creatures.
They ask why the prodigal son,
the evolved man that has returned to their jail:
I tell them, “I came to tighten your chains.”
They shriek in sloth as tourists take
photographs of their ecstasy.
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