STORM IN AFRikA

The strange to be calm

When all races seem to be down

The strange to be calm

The never betting on being beaten down

The never to be frowned

The ever coming crown

The high places that seem all too far

Tall tables reserved for those on par

The strange calm

The sad long palm

The hand that bites

The beggars wearing unlikely frowns

Rich men in unsightly gowns

Caviars

Lavish lairs

Sad lies…