demimonde, myself, asylum, gray, oranges, candle, grand, reborn, rites, Africa, transgression
The witch doctor from Africa
Had made his mark in the Parisian demimonde,
He’d sought asylum in France, from a revolution
Of the sanest scientific nature …
The rites of passage had been banned,
As were initiations and castrations
No longer did the ladies infibulate their daughters,
And the government had banned candle light
For electric illumination.
The grand high priest of voodoo
Was happy when he realized
That his rites were appreciated
In the illuminated scientific west …
Reborn were the sacrifices
The oranges, whiskey, tobacco and bones
Littered the ground as the candles glowed
Somehow making the day turn grey ….
“Transgression of the spirit world
Has been over-come … I declare by myself!”
He stated to the journalist of Le Monde.