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The Political Esau

On a Stinky bed of denial
He was painfully delivered
Eyes soured
From scream of innocence -
His last he hoped - borne from the burning grip
Of ethnic partiality

Robbed off of his political birthright
He surged to the wee hours
Of a new dawn
But he opposed like a virtuous woman
Corruption from penetrating the sacred corridors
Of his virgin prospects

Then to a sweetened bond of unity
He called 'bakulu'
Surf to the beautiful shores
Of knowledge and power

Yes! The most amiable aristocrats
Chose not to be labeled carpenters

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
Editing stage: 


but poetry is sensitive to its environment and I don't think I should comment right now.
For starters I'm drunk and pissed off at a lot of other things so I promise to come back to it. Bookmarked and pocketed, ok?
Sorry about that.
{in nothing like an Arnie accent]
I'll be back.

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'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

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