Accra ( after William Blake)
I wander through every mucky street,
Near where the choked Odaw cannot flow.
And mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weariness, marks of sorrow
In the very sweat of every chap,
In every driver's cry for way,
In every voice: in every shack,
The decay of a nation holds sway.
In every driver's cry for way,
In every voice: in every shack,
The decay of a nation holds sway.
Have you read: The Hustler in the City?
How the street-sleepers cry,
Every trader's stall in choking spaces,
And the shirtless truck pushers' sigh,
Ring of the sleaze in high places.
But worse, in the perilous nights I see
How the youthful harlots and hustlers sleep
As the cargo of cursed slave-ships at sea
And chars with shame the conscience deep
How the street-sleepers cry,
Every trader's stall in choking spaces,
And the shirtless truck pushers' sigh,
Ring of the sleaze in high places.
But worse, in the perilous nights I see
How the youthful harlots and hustlers sleep
As the cargo of cursed slave-ships at sea
And chars with shame the conscience deep
Exquisite, John you are just wonderful in this work
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