Papa lied, after all?

When a kid tells a lie

We are quick to spot it with a spank

But the fartings of our elders are coloured lavender

When a maiden giggles at a stranger at a stream

Community tags her as becoming unseemly

But the men stoke their loins in broad day sensation

When a king breaks the air in court

We search ourselves with questionings

Our senses must be contrived with carnal expectations

But the king is equally carnal too

As it is with a slave on the windmill

So is it with the blueblood on the treadmill

A finger in the anus can only reek of a foul smell

***A commentary about the recent comment made by Chinua Achebe on the Biafran war***

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