The season of the purse: POEM

in the land to Africa's south a new wave rises in high tide the season of the purse has come where the lords of the hour in the name of the people reap the fat of the land and among themselves wrestle for the trough in a frenzied orgy of feeding as brother pummels brother to a pulp for the right to the choicest plunder to lay claim to the worthiest pillage to wrest the amplest loot while in the gutter of mangled promise the people forage

africa has seen it all before

when those who once were masters

bathed the land in blood

and like the tsunami the people arose

their fists in the air

with fire in their hearts

to halt the pogrom

to bring the plunder to an end

and to sow the roots of renewal

they rose

as more will rise

to plant the seeds of rebirth

in the land to Africa's south
the season of the purse has been born

and again swines are lords

for now