Emi’lokan, the lyrics from a loon,
the vituperation born from the womb of greed,
the menace of recycled gangsters.
Emi’lokan, the beggarly shame of old vermin,
the intrusion of mafias and thuggish urchins,
Emi’lokan, The insanity accepted as norm,
Emi’lokan the dystopia of dementia, great grandfathers
suspending relevance of their poisoned docile Youths,
Emi’lokan, The cornucopia of fraud.
Emi’lokan the senseless Politics of bribery, of rice, tomatoes and grains.
the desperation of old thieves at the precipice of the grave.
Emi’lokan, where election is a lie,
Emi’lokan the lom of no reputation,
Emi’lokan though devoid of dignity,
Emi’lokan robbers without conscience,
Emi’lokan injustices without consequence,
Emi’lokan of diabetes and paralysis cloaked in deceptive "Babariga"
Emi’lokan where profligates bands hover over us.
Emi’lokan in the country of rogues.
Categories:
vituperation, africa, confusion, corruption, integrity,
Form: Free verse
From dense sleep we emerge.
Realizing our coat,
we seek to cast off this Nessus.
We drank the Jonestown Kool-Aid
and now it’s too late.
We never noticed the circling
vultures despotic descent on the capital.
We never contested the contagion,
the invective infections of the tyrant.
Everywhere we witness the carnage,
the flyblown bodies we covered,
the reeking pestilence of our infiltrated discourse,
the spewing sewers of vituperation.
While all the sinkholes break open
our dual justice system a slapstick,
our public coffers are looted,
our privatized schools divested.
Trauma’s children seek asylum in cages.
Trauma’s vigilantes terrorize our borders.
This is the moribund city of rot.
This is the counterfeit city of lies.
This is our cloaked city
cast by an infantile overlord.
This is our tomb city of palls.
Published in The Opiate Mag. 06/2019
Categories:
vituperation, allegory, america, analogy, corruption,
Form: Political Verse
The day my heroine fell and cried,
A few tears came to soften my seared vision,
My pains were amplified and many secrets reviewed,
Yet, people talk - a daily avalanche of vituperation.
She taught me how to be bold and strong,
Even before a hot up rush of hatred and loathing,
But was deeply broken and remained weak in death,
Because she accepted defeat,
Leaving me with a haunting and horrible sense of insecurity.
Like a rainbow in my cloud,
With a propitious sky, marbled with pearly white,
She still feels a light of unwonted pleasure in my eyes,
Because of my perception of tomorrow,
Knowing that it’s hard for me to deal with the harassing sorrow.
This might be
A secret sweeter than the sea or sky can whisper,
Or a shimmer of golden sun shaking through the trees,
But for sure not a stream of easy talk,
Because I don’t want to be like my heroine
On the day she fell and cried.
Categories:
vituperation, death, death of a
Form: Limerick
Calm,collected and serene
Then a timely vituperation
Evokes in spilt seconds
A cornucopia of rashfolly
Tempers, scream up
The meanest echelons of inhumane rive
Words; few left unsaid
Blood of a few, left unshed
All's torn apart
And all in parts, fell apart
Then she is gone
As swiftly as she was born
And left all parts; in parts
Heap of rubbles now drawn with carts
To tombs; heaped and tombstoned with hats
Calm, collected and somewhat serene
Once more, I am
Now with regrets
But she's gone
Swiftly as she was born
-My untamed tantrum
Categories:
vituperation, anger
Form: I do not know?
Contumacious remarks abound
Words that sting and injure deeply
A reflection of their inner turmoil
Played out in another’s space
Their hatred knows no bound
The distance of the internet
Turns us into faceless combatants
A Case study on wounding for wounding sake
Image consciousness rules the day
The image required not found
With a cursory glance
The inner person
Of no importance
The gloss of looks and the clothes one wears
Sparkles and fools
The rejection stings
Its ferocity and frequency
An attempt to demoralise
The vituperation of unknowns
Has inflicted deep un-healing wounds
Forever kept fresh and open
No peace for your psyche
The occasional warmth
Stings hardest
The rarity of affection seems
A cruel inhuman joke
Categories:
vituperation, anger, depression, how i
Form: Prose