This night i see the horror

smearing

in the ambience of home—

trickling

along a path to Ozubulu,

and I recoil

into the cubicle of my

poeticizing.

thoughts in flashing

blades tearing

my heart, prior broken in a

billion times first, the words of a sage

stream in

who sees via periscope of

his poesy,

the world as a cracked

phone with

deadly virus, and needs a

reset button

for something blatant is

missing, we find not

another comes in song of dirge,

wailing for help! the sage

sees us as

pilgrims with lost footprints

on this shore

of enigma. the tears of his

lyrics call unto the Superior Eye

up there

who sees the vast cosmos

at a glance

Amona, won’t you come,

come quickly? but my atheist nigga

mocks a dirge

the Eye up there is surreal

like art

nigga’s philosophy is

righted by reality of days

Ozubulu gory scene is no

science fiction

but the book whose

wisdom is folly

says we are at the

resolution of this film

unfortunately, a day is a

stretched year

and this unending season

thriller, daily

thrusts dagger of slow

death in our hearts

i want to be a poet no

more! the world

comes with blade piercing

my heart daily

this pen wants to die on

grave of tranquility

but at this clueless line, i

cadence me. .

(C) Olajuwon Joseph Olumide

7th August 2017

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