Tribal Drums Are Beating

A pointless anger, a wasted flush
of coursing adrenalin rush. There
was no danger. The idea provoked
by a thoughtless, witless accusation
freed of its contextual truth should
not raise the heat. But tribal drums
are beating – pungently calling
excitable feet. And the crush of
prejudices run amok in a small
space of no supporting walls,
a place confined to the darkest
meanness’s, a clutch of devil’s
eggs spawned and hatched in a
moment of misbegotten madness.
The riot takes only a few seconds to
ignite from an idea inflamed out of
ignorance but its fires smoulder
perpetually in an enduring reality.
© I.D. Carswell 2007-01-29