Ah ah ah ah, he he he hee hee <br />‘xcuse me, clear the pitch <br />I have a strange song to sing <br />With a stranger rhythm that induces <br />Frenzied mad steps that ache the body. <br />Yeah, the mad season is here <br />A seasoned wine that changes bottle <br />With the politics of “me live” others die <br />Season of mourned consciences <br /> Consciences massacred in “gory” of money politics <br />In this mad season alone <br />Are you dancing? <br />Oh oh oh, you’re stepping on my toes. <br />Ok clear the pitch a little more. <br />Now listen, eh ey! <br />The surviving consciences in mourning clothes crying out in silent voices <br />Ah ah ey! Voice muffled with the boots of <br />The mad dancers, <br />Ah! In this mad season, <br />When king dances with feet upward <br />The crown covers the murderers’ faces. <br />Their lips apportioning the killer poison <br />And the mad dance continues <br />In the mad season, <br />Smoldering iron shivers <br />Fish sweat in the Arctic, <br />Oil congealed on fire <br />Ah ah ey, its flu is back with the raging fire of insanity <br />Ah ah ey, the dancers change hands <br />The madness take a new dimension <br />Yet an old wine in a new bottle <br />Eey, le’me go before I catch this madness <br />’xcuse me, le’me call the psychiatrists. <br />Strange things than stranger happen! <br />The mad dance is squashed, <br />As the new rogue is crowned!<br /><br />Stephen Olufemi Omolara<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mad-season/
