POSTED 01/28/2018 20:13
When eyes were eyes
In the sight of men, shouting
Oh! Father, in unison of a physically
In the sight of that, that never happened.
And the might of that, that will later happen.
Oh! Idodo, when the dancing feet
Of a lion is lost, deer comes revenge.
Where are those mirrors when the cloud of unknown epitome is about
What head shall not nod
To the drum dance of our downfall?
Staying idle even to the weep of
And to the fear of a heavy downpour who can listen to the cry of our Mothers with their tobacco teeth
Without laughter nor cackle.
Oh! Idodo, the great has fallen sick
In the battle front.
And the voice of our widows heard.
A drop of water has fallen into the
Eyes of the cow, letting out huge
Globules of blood. Mother said!
She gathered us together and said,
Let us go and beg father!
In our father's tomb, weed lives and breed.
And in our mother's pot, we urinated
Shall we call our sin "good"?
Our tears are now seen on our pale lips.
Echoing the cry of kids in their father's temple.
But hope still grows in our tongue
After the royal dance of far-away leaves.
Dripping in the soup we cooked in our heart,
Painted with tears of the man that formed my mother.
For Christ died to purify the kisses of Judas.
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