HANGMAN OF PURE-HEART

Written by: Kolapo Olapoju

Ferry me furiously further 
from the furnace of self chaste 
and river of man -hope,
The island of feigned wellness,
The high-horse of self-pride;
 hangman of pure-heart. 


What's the shame in weakness?
What's the shame in weeping?
What's the fault in falling?
The tussle to stay afloat 
keeps the mind on its toes
The Spirit and Soul's penchant 
for penance rises.
 

What's the crime in loosing?
Where's the guilt in crouching?
Why berate thyself, restless soul.
The patch of weed 
is harbinger of fertile crop
Yet the clearing has to be done.
tomorrow's harvest corrects 
the day's labour.


Shame has to be ingested for 
glory to bloom;
Glory, antithesis of gloom, light 
of man.
Sometimes the head will stoop 
to scoop the signs from the 
earth,
as done by kin unknown.
Why then worry about man's 
worry.


What's the shame in crashing 
on your hind when the load is 
too weighty?
What's cowardly in fleeing from 
repose when peace dies within?
Where is the honor in 
screaming from pain when 
you've aged numb?
  

What's the shame in mouthing 
the truth?
Why worry when your line is 
straight?  
Why ululate when your heart is 
pure?


Why scratch the head's pores 
till it sores?
Why bother when the cows still 
make beef and soap yet brings 
lather?
Why tug at receding hair till it 
embrace baldness?


Ferry me furiously further
from the furnace of self chaste 
and river of man -hope,
The island of feigned wellness,
The high-horse of self-pride;
The hangman of pure-heart.

So, I may yet remain sane.