1. We Talk Of War
We talk of war
like evening tale of tortoise
and fable of foolish elephant
lured to the throne of ruin
with songs of pretence
We all talk of war, we wish it coming
but who has ever been to war
without scary reports of blood;
of guns and dreams of men dying
under the shadow of bloodshed?
Wars, not like cold pap, sweet on palate
taken to calm the yearning of hunger at morning
war is not like august yam, fresh and sweet
nor putting honey in mouth,
A person struck by thunder shall never wait
where they talk of thunder-god
with song of discord and detest
Let there be harmony, and farewell to fight.
2. Plea to the 'ember Months
'embers
they said you are months that come
with cursed cowries of cries
they said your revelation
is the catalogue of misfortunes
they said you are the maker of doom,
the missal of miseries
that sees the year down the lane of ruin
But take me as the son of the soil
not the shunned of the soil
and spare me of my soul
when you open the gate of grave
for the victims of the roads
Womb me with your mercy
when you beat your drum of doom
into the auricles of earth
For I know your name
that weighs like aged rocks
your name made of mystery.
* * *
3. Tarnished Pride
All ripe oranges are fresh
they are the food of famished eyes
at first captivating contact
but how do we know
the curious ones dented
by the beaks of scrounging birds
How do we know
the punctuated gourds at the side of a river
by a mere gaze of distance?
All faces are beautiful, luring
but how do we know the social stigma
among all these redolent flowers
that has bartered its pride
in hasty response of exuberance
for the calling of the ignorance?
We live in a world at the center of puzzle
riddled by the flash of fantasy
one doesn’t know the value of gemstone
until it is lost in the wilderness of forgetfulness.
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