The Drunken State
Is a state of states
That spits on the soil of its own state.
It is that state without forward stage
But backward stage...
Incessantly tiptoeing at that stage.
The Drunken State?
It is a state that slays.
A state that murders okay.
A state that smiles at manslaughter way.
A state that welcomes suicide day,
And plots assassination hey.
The Drunken State?
It commits fratricide.
It commits matricide.
It commits patricide.
It perpetrates infanticide.
It perpetrates parricide.
It perpetrates homicide.
It does herbicide,
And of course does regicide.
The Drunken State?
For years, months, weeks and days dressed in that pant.
For it hallucinates without changing its pants.
The Drunken State?
It is that state where its citizens sun in a queue
Whilst its workers in their working hours are busy comfortably browsing in their queue.
The Drunken State?
It is that state where institutions have mouths without teeth to bite,
Hands but handless to kite,
And a body without balanced diet.
The Drunken State?
It is a state where mediocrity is forced to cherish
Yet reality and competence are nudged uncherished.
The Drunken State?
Here I still feel a bouquet of alcohol
Among binge drinkers in their hall.
The Drunken State?
Are we, the Gambia denotatively, connotatively, philosophically, psychologically, and scientifically qualified to be called The Drunken State?
Or should I shove that aside?
Or rather should I conclusively christen her The Drunken State?
Because you believe it has almost all if not all the characteristics mentioned here as a state.
The Drunken State?
By Muhammed Sidibeh/The Magnetic Poet
