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