Post Mortem
Post Mortem
Did you hear them sing dirge:
When the world comes crashing down on me,
Did you hear those voices across the divide?
A cacophony of tormented brain
All dead and moldy like forgotten bread,
Dust to dust,
Ashes to ashes;
Their lives begin to wan
As ashes from their burning hemp bush
That is just about what it is,
Their lives nailed with needle and shot away
And all the dark sores,
Spun a tangles tale of million arms
When this madness finally settle like death,
And after all the soaring
High up like a bird,
After all the falling, sprawling supine
And whimpering, eyes dilating,
Groaning like tired door
After all the hours in the back-rooms,
Of walking nights In dark corner streets
Of knives that flash deviance
To stark-eyes victims
The spiting cough from over laboured guns,
All for propitiation for the spirits
Of their consuming gods, After all of these
Someone still got his addict soaking brain splash
Out to foul the air
A tormented, yet a nice sleep.
Then commence that shout across the divide,
Help! Liberate this soul from
That which diminishes
From this quagmire, the deadness;
Of imprison moments.
And that is just all
With tip of match sticks
They measured out their life
And got filled up their nostrils
Exploded into the abyss
And a dirge: when the world comes Crashing down on me.
Copyright © Afolabi Taiwo | Year Posted 2011
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