When Donkeys Neigh To Cry

It's sad to hear the donkeys, Who neigh to cry, Like the faithful of Saint Anne. Life is rough for schoolchildren, Who have no books, no notebooks, No pencils, no pens or no papers. While in the Senate, every day is Christmas day. It's the looting, the theft, and the waste of property That belongs to the State. The people bark like dogs, In the dirty, muddy streets, filled with clutter. It's like a slow coup, where the rats Occupy militarily the metropolitan area, And the cats are urged or forced to flee, Like the young people are thirsty for a better future. Congressmen and Senators receive New Year's Gifts Daily. It's really sad to see The way that the donkeys are leaning to cry, to neigh. They're very weak. The unabashed poet wants to vomit, In front of these persistent crises, black flags Are floating masterfully in the shantytowns. Finally, the people are fed up and rebel. The entire city Is in smoke and on fire. Grocery stores are looted and robbed. The policemen and the gendarmes have no choice But to abstain or stay in the barracks, To be entertained like turtles in tanks Filled with alcoholic water. There are no more laws, Not enough senators to have a quorum. Bring me a few glasses of clairin or rum. It's my turn, I want to relax, and I want to have fun. On this crazy soil, I do not know if there is a happy future. When donkeys neigh in the middle of the crowd, We can hear them all over the territory, from the Hood To the hilltop of the mountains. The Senate is hardly in session. The halls of Congress are closed. All the pimps are on vacation. Nothing seems to be working. It's a total chaos. It's the recession. Corruption stinks. The people are sick; there'll be no more dancing. The whole country is in mourning. We see countless coffins in the procession. Copyright © July 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.