wordings of the soul

Pastime By Tonney Ibe

POSTED 02/02/2018 13:38
2845 Reads Pastime By Tonney Ibe, Poetry on Tushstories
Walking on hot coals
Is a pastime
For a polygamous giant.
That children should know,
Bunch of know-it-alls
None the wiser,
She farts molten magma
A few times every season;
Upon center stage.

The music of the smoke
Is to choke,
And choke some more
On hot coal,
And quench the parched throat
With impatient lava.

What's the difference
Between a giant and a beast?
The answer
Is to make merry in pain:
To feign a complaint.
When the future is a broken bridge
At the darkest dusk,
To cross becomes the cross
Which sheer willpower
To Golgotha
Must hurl.

Who shall die first
In this city of death,
This city of the dead,
Polis, or necropolis?!
Having died the tenth time,
Dying is the desire to live:
To live again
On the anachronism of green grass,
Or yarn a jack of green and white,
- A shot straight to the skull -
To wrap a willing sarcophagus.

Never again,
To walk on hot coals,
Living being a pastime.

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