A Smuggler Speaks
Enough of a struggle,
When we banned goods smuggle
To against riches snuggle
And soon sound The Bugle
Enough of struggle:
Lots of body wriggle
For Danes’ Illicit Gin
That would lots of lips win:
South Africa Necklace
In Gold dressed like a lace…
In my mind a rifle
But its mention stifle:
Brushes with The Customs
Seizing people’s bottoms;
Curses of their custom
Of sparing not An Atom...
Ahead kicking kidneys
To down force one on knees
My birthday with whole chicken
Today is exactly The Day
I said I must find my way
Out of a Taxed Uterus,
With odds getting numerous:
Fifty-Two not Twenty-Five
Splendid to be still alive!
A Uterus that saw Hell,
When I started sounding my bell;
Doctor sure ‘The Post-Mature’
Now responding to Nature
A Most Terrible Bleeding,
Even as she kept pleading,
The time: Night’s 11: 15
Of A Rainy June 15
And I heard: staying at church
While Nigerian Bombs did search…
Today Short Story Writer,
In Poetry, too, A Fighter…
Copyright © Chinedum Ekwobi | Year Posted 2022
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