We wait for the day when the earth shall exuberate,
Jubilation for the death of the immortal foeman,
An enemy that has terrorised all races,
Blacks and whites in the hands of haemorrhage
Brains stuck running out of knowledge
Sputtering to contain the pandemic.
We dream of the day the palled race shall dance,
Tunes very enticing blarneying all levels,
The joy of a thought of dead angels of death,
Generations wondering what to do with time,
Time unlimited offering loyal democracy
Plans pipelined throughout life’s span.
Hallucinations of a world minus weary wearied faces,
Tambourines shaking unflaggingly shewing a felicitous ragged human race,
Sudation jiggling up and down the worn out grimace,
Thoughts banished from thinking of the reverse,
Crammed ideas of running eternal immortality
That memorable day death will die painfully...
Beaton Galafa
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/joyfuls-souls-upon-death-s-sorrow/
