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
