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Where the bright lights are dim

Read the two letters
One from the attorneys
Another from your father
Read fast because the old
Man is retiring.He might
be dying even by now

What says my father this time?
I don't want to be bothered
with burdening family troubles
Read it loud so we may laugh
I want to go out in the city where
the bright lights are dim

Your father is angry with you
Apparently you are blasting his
money on booze.You are womanizing
And you are neglecting your studies
Your father is very worried

There is nothing to worry about
Let's leave girls
If you have anything to worry about
Let me know I'll about with
the drinks and the cash
Follow me my lovely friends
There's enough cash to blow tonight
where the bright lights are dim

Your father further elaborates
That you must not waste the best years
of your youth.He won't be there
For you forever

Tell my dad
I was not there in his youth
I want to enjoy myself while I'm
still
young.It makes no sense to want to
hit the limelight when you're old in
Your octogenarian jubilee.According
to the likes of my no use father I must
wait forever to join the fun outside
Let's not detain ourselves here forever
Move my petite young lovers.The groove
is hot where the bright lights are dim

Here's some more bad news
Your father is dying in his last death
throes
Already your uncles are fighting over
his properties and his vast rich estates
It's a matter of life and death
You are summoned to talk and listen to
your father as he instructs you in his death
screams

We all must die someday
If my father shall die today
Let them bury him in the old cemetery
It is best that he receives his deserved
punishment early for his string of past
sins
I am the walking dictionary of my father's
fault lines
And we will go my gorgeous friends and line
up
ourselves and parade ourselves in the glare
of the city where the bright lines are dim

You must sacrifice
your hedonistic love of this pleasures
Your long suffering father is dead
Go home like a good son and see to it that
your father is properly buried and
Say sorry to your hoping mad angry relatives

My father is the dying type
I will not forgive my father for dying
deliberately and making me an orphan
I owe nobody an explanation.Tell the angry
ones it takes two muscles to smile.And the
contorted face to be angry
What are you waiting for my friends? The night
is young.You don't want to die young.Grab
this opportunity and go out where the dim
moon is young.You don't want to be late when
The festivities start where the bright lights
Are dim.What else do you want to highlight
us about...Mister Eloquent?

I am not getting any younger
Here please.Take the strain of the last
bombshells
off my sagging shoulders.Read the treasonous
Contents of your father's will as dictated
to the lawyers and the board of trustees
The fun of the bright lights that ended the
hedonistic
wanderings of the prodigal son is on your dim
prospects

Oh no no my friends.Hold my hand I'm dying
My father's mansion and his vast estates are
to be donated to the charity of the orphanage!
He lives to me
A pair of his worn out shoes!
And a pair of silly binoculars to see
through the memories of the sea of his tears!
There you go my friends!
There will be no money for me at the bank
I now go
Alone to join the queue of the careless
and the homeless and the arrogant
Who do not reckon with the poisoned chalice of
the asinine humor of their parents

poem by Ngaka Motaung
Added by Poetry Lover
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