POETRY

wordings of the soul

Dark Side Of The Gods By Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale

POSTED 04/13/2018 14:35
1863 Reads Dark Side Of The Gods By Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale, Poetry on Tushstories
‘Staring at my mother’s portrait
Is a journey into songs that flirt with fire’
I said this – to make you understand how images could become;
-shadows
-reflections
-broken memories and fallen histories.
The day she died, my father had told me he saw her in his dream-
the night before Running from her body
Into a body, hiding behind God’s word
A body filled with rotten carcass
Of men, who died in their silence.
It began the day our neighbour, called her a name
Potent enough to penetrate her bones
Breaking it;
-into a silent street and a city where friendship means stabbing
-into an epistle of dark tales
-and into a poem, lynching its own verses.
I do not know when names become bullets
Walking into veins
Transporting blood to the sky as burnt offerings,
When names becomes a way to multiply life by zero
Dividing it by the number of times
A boy dies, wrestling with his father’s shadow.
On this part;
Everyone is a god, creeping with deadly claws
Their hands are bowls of blood and cold history.
A man stumbled on his friend’s shadow
They said he stumbled on death voluntarily,
Another greets his neighbour
And found his body falling off the cliff of his heartbeat
A boy played hide and seek with his brother
They mock the radiance on his face
And said he’s hiding from the number of days he’s got to live
Seeking those things that cut the body with immortality
Things like the demon relaying in Judas’s head
When he kissed his master
Things, catapulting a girl’s voice to the wind
In search of extinct wholeness.
On this part;
People’s tongues are chariots of fire
Burning boys for daring to survive
Their smiles are castles of hate and deceit
Eating everything – beautiful
I know of a friend who was haunted by his shadow
For rising to the sky with the stars,
In his father’s house, they burn the dreams of everyone
Who leave for the city and return with the world in their hands.
On this part;
gods are not after God’s art
You could judge the content of their hearts by the colour on their skins.

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