Stooges Poem by Niki Nicholas Nkuna

Carpet riders on steady skates,
Love their shoes, short of the red carpet,
Wind blowing, the puppet skeletons,
Flailing sideways, up and down,
No flinching, no remonstration,

Stars, they look up to,
Don't look back at them,
Foul scent, no frown, no manoeuvre of any kind,
For the trestles should be strong enough,
To withstand the weight of the master,

Master and servant's sweat,
Mingles into melted yellow gold,
Baked and labelled the masters' gift,

Incessant wind blowing,
The yard full of dried leaves,
The gardener remonstrating with the wind to no avail,
Rain floods dancing with dry leaves everywhere,
In and outside the yard,
The fury of nature outstripped the gardener in the race,
Stairs to the house carpeted with the gardener's diaphragm,
The cushion for the master's gateway to leisure.

Spitting snakes spit to the windshield,
In want of the master to bite,
The master is smiling behind the wall,
The wall changes colour,
Being the scourge of the vagrants' urine,