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Plastic Nativity By Foxwitz Chamberlain

Plastic Nativity
Look, I’m supposed to sing here not preach
The teacher looked at me and waved his dreary hand at me, The other boys parted the line to let me through,
I was seven and had already learned the flapping wit!
It took an hour to surmise the cancer that stooped to our soul A cancer of the soul
The spilled glass windows
Have cursed and pierced our visions with shattered tangles!
I taught the teacher the legend of losing one’s mind
And he sent me home to my mother with details of my infantile psychosis Boldly written in my report card!
But the child only laughed!
For at home, he has seen all shades of madness!
Africa is no longer the native land
She is now the primitive land of the holidayed grease,
We unwrinkled our age with the plasticity of debris…
Look at an entire evening of our lives
What have all the mornings and noons done to assuage our Midnights?
The westerners come with a message
They come with a timeless emptiness strafed with petrol fleas
Yet, they teach us an entire sense of purpose but we look the other side of the fence of truth Insisting on our pikes
Shivering with darkly frost
And educating only our smiles
With mad lessons of lostness,
Hunching blazing withering
Plundered from inarticulate fertilization!

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