About yesterday, yesterday now out

Candles lit till threads out

Flashes of brilliance

The usual breeze broken

City gates

Poor and wretched animals

Poor and hungry polis.


Noise at the rear
Cold blooded murder when u stood to care

The chapter of dictatorship

The journey of no return

Grape fruits getting fresher

The picked bad fruits make up the basket

The blood of the innocent

Satisfactorily served as wine for top guns

Whose matchet weeps?

The purgation of the soul, more suicide creeps

This used to be my beloved

What has it now become, in all things worth becoming


The rule by a feather
With faint shots that

sparks ruckus from destitutes

If I was to rally the crowd, won’t I be placed in a horror cubicle

Or threatened enough to fear for my pintle?

Married to the politics of rationality

My bride is dead

Her blood screams in my head

Blurry vision of the revelation

Her sorrowful chorus, a rhythm with terror

A torn coat with broken arms

A fight for no compromise

A usual lie now told by all

A choice, but no voice

My muse, my death.

OKOCHA OBED

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