Great truths that are uttered by unknown lips resemble goldmines yet to be discovered!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
10 May 2017
Countdown siren. Islam is at stake.
Arabic Y2K, Countdown.
Islam in Jeaporday, I breath Hajj.
We are near the science incentive.
The smell of petrol, the beginning of empty goldmines.
Empty Oil Checkers on cars.
Islam in jeaporday.
Allah protect the saviours.
A sliding ice knife.
The tempo of Islam
The son of Islam in humankind.
We cannot breath the criticality
I cannot heathen the heresay.
Smell the petrol, I cannot walk in the Middle East.
I would rather Die
The End of Islam
Its as dark as a pitch
My heart like a bottomless pit.
I've tried to search but I'm sinking.
The day has broken, with its eyes singing.
Yet I look but I cannot see.
My heart is at war,
Pain and love tearing me apart.
The past holding unto me, the future begging me to express.
In all these are rage and wonders.
Its like a play taking place on a stage.
My heart is empty yet with stuff.
Words of love I can't express.
There's a wave sweeping me apart,
On its tide, I tried to ride.
Only with every ride I go astray.
I'm keeping calm, and yet restless.
Tears keep rolling but I'm not crying.
Goldmines all around me but I can't pick.
I'm a miner that won't dare mine.
Once a goldmine, plundered beyond repair.
Poem by Kolawole Ogunfowokan
Originally mine
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