For Flesh and Blood
These were letters written in tablets of blood
We wrote the pains of yesterday today wittily
On this seaside of swaying embargo of tablets
She was the song swept in pity and cruelty
Daring the concubines that surround mother earth
She shared piles of honest sorrows in the street
When smoke of lies corrupted our honesty
We became captives of earthly idols to rule
Slaying bundles of watery hopes in our hands
For flesh was the demon that deceived
Our blood, the host empire sagging evil
Folly of today harbored crime of tomorrow
In sand of time have we seen this flesh
Where water occupied the trinity of our being
Rays of light paddled off boats that guide lives
She cooked for all to eat and dance
They ended up slaying her into the pot
Exit the tortoise from its shell and cooked another lie
For her testimonies of the saints roared
Armed and naked, cruelled and shallowed
they made honey through their sinful mouth
Till this very end, we’ll have this palm frond
Till another ash Wednesday to mourn her
For these tablets are full of deceitful truth
When she was younger and tender at heart
She showered her pink happiness to lips
Dressing emptiness to renew the wind
We are windows of thought to her soul
Dreams of new breeds, damaged in a
Satirical veracity that makes spirit ponders
For her flesh covered us in dusk and nightfall
Her blood, a sacrificial substance to the believers
Like the peacock, she spread her feather to protect
Africa is the genesis of mankind and evolution
She came yesterday with a song in her throat
Here was the photography of our dreams she held
When she told of a neighbor who killed with mouth
For this diamond called home and house
Would not exit us through shadows and ashes
Through visible weightless wind among trees
Dust became grains in our eyes when she fell
People made others virgin of an oily wanderers
Ronin and roving like dark armless sinister
When she looks at her children, time looses
Concentration; staked and unbalanced to her
The flower may have lost a home to the wind
Depictions of bones, broken in families of lovers
Finding her children in a broken home of the past
Skulls scattered like grains of millets in the forest
Spirits wore bodies of new traveler to invade into
The emptiness that generated fouled originality
For flesh and blood, we would match forward
The rivers flowing out from our eyes would ceased
Africa is a green plant in the eyes of children
Who killed her? Who damaged her fleshy thought?
Copyright © John Chizoba Vincent | Year Posted 2017
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