LUSTFUL YOUTH
The world is filled with vanities
The lust of the eyes and flesh in entirety
Behold how the great and mighty has fallen
Because of beautiful maidens
The daughters of Jezebel have been equipped
To strip every man his pedigree
Our youth have fallen victims
Just for a night fling
Youths who ought to be roofs to nation’s building
Are now nothing, but fools in area meetings
Unlike wools made ultimately for knitting
The youth has lost their place in divine space
And they have also relocated from Heaven’s gate
Awaiting the choice of fate
Masters has been reduced to servants
Heirs have lost their place with their father
Why waste thy years
And tomorrow be in tears
In the name of wordily enjoyments
Why sell your tomorrow?
In order to live for today
When will you answer the call of the creator?
Turn, from your lustful desires
The word of God is all you truly require
For eternal life and peace in paradise
They wove a wordily world
Out of space and sherds of imagination
They wove meanings in mere metaphors
Like spinning spiders
The seer just slept
The poem prospers posthumously
And rake in income post-humorously
S/he died poor but partly NOPE
S/he gave life to you and me
S/he gave a piece of life to us
S/he gave a smile to us
S/he enlightened our dark hearts
Poets and poetesses never die,
They live on shadows and ghosts
In dusts of lively libraries, helly hells and heavenly heavens
I make this detection
upon introspection
of the woodblock inside me named soul
I'm sightless to beauty
on par with a cootie
or, moreover, an underground mole
I distinguish not burdock
from daisy nor hollyhock
a flower is a flower; just that
in all shades and shapes
their splendor escapes
their fragrance akin to rat
For music I've no ear
from hip-hop to austere
discordant cacophonies at best
hush is harmonic;
uncluttered by sonic
my woodblock is calm and at rest
Plaintive prose
gets right up my nose
and further if wordily verbose;
I don't mean to knock
but it's all poppycock
and frankly it's inclined to perturb us.
I have more to relate
let me share my pet hate
'tis birdsong, a misnomer of speech
birds scream and shriek
they squeal and they squeak
a maddening medley of screech
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