IT NEVER IS A SAD TALE

once it were of nights beside the blazing woods,
picked upon a setting suns' warn,
happy feet and toes that did tickle,
to the drums from falling palms,
and it was merry,
among the thatched roofs,
that lay beneath these weeping hills,
that lay lifeless,
been stripped of all life,

they took the women,
said they were round and fat,
good to warm their nights away,
their tods they smashed upon unconditioned earth,
and left for the dogs and mags that rot take,
and off they sailed to make merry,

the men i heard them say,
were oxen for their field,
cotton and sisal would never fade,
a black man to till can,

bare chest,
bare breast,
leash upon a neck,
a chain run to the next,
they went,


now darkness falls,
only owls and crows be home,
not a fire,
not a soul,
even the sick dog ran off,

a society raped,

tell me a tale,
that ain't ever sad,
tell me a story that ain't ever so,
and i shall say it never was,