PoetrySad Poems

We Dare Not Die Here

In the dim of our souls—
I smell fear.
It’s eyes—their lights, as it came and went, and came and went,
bore bland parts of everyday existence.

This deafening silence everywhere,
whistles no joy anywhere.
That childish laughter, no longer has a place in these canyons anymore.
Nature itself seems asleep yet aware, that we all have being skimmed bare of our fur;
Even birds call after their mates in flight to another planet
The songbirds flew; a sullen nest swung in the wind,
The owls hooting in babbling gossip ”This planet seems cursed,” they say
The sounds of the city that once gave gay lights
Now leaves an eerie silence, bringing life to a guttural stop.

These days…
Lips seemed less to speak than to cough,
Noses seemed less to breath than to sneeze,
There are many an intrusion
Which brought upon us this unhappy confusion
Their fiddling with rats and cats for dinner
Got us here with meals made from apple cider;
Because the honey in our comb has dripped off too quickly to grease our itching butts
From hours of sitting and sleeping in—
Now overfed, we badly need a gym.

This life seem to have lost its gay,
One not worth a barrow—full of hay.
My tongue—too simple to pronounce,
Words that could serve my thoughts;
Because all of mankind searches every corner and hole with defiance
For cures to this coronavikqueen.
Because for some… all dreams of moony mansions in mind,
have gone to the mud.

Mercenaries of doom…
Micahs of now…
Teach us to despair than to persevere,
With wrong conclusions in the end—
To have us think the world has arrived to its end.

Look beyond this sunny sheen
Anticipate the morning green.
Allow me give you a fair account of this part,
My English, too insufficient… maybe!
My imageries, too blurry… maybe!
Sit on this seat like a patient bug!
Pay no heed to this jangle of debate
Some are lies strung to a bait,
As illiterates are wont to do, when subtler things are offered to their view.
After this flood, comes the morn’ dew

Now let us put things in their proper frame,
This infection, as deadly as it came
Visits the rich and even the healthy at pocket
And those not worth nothing here or anywhere.
So you see…we are all dust after all
I wonder how they parade as lords over us all.

“Make God your adversary for a whim
and work at what is contrary to Him
And to His will, and you will never thrive
Though you transmute as long as you’re alive,”
Preachers chide…
‘Knowledge and science made our cheeks glow
Though, they be no colours on them, that we know’
Yet we smiled as if to say…
”To hell with God”
Atheists know that, that I say….

They say trouble is afoot
So stay in your home, put.
That sermon is swaddled in a heavy-duty care,
its caution in a plastic container, inside a jittering lunch box.
There’s no crime in sharing moments with loved ones
Look into those eyes, whisper if you have to “I love you”
Because cutes smiles like that, may fade into marooned memories by tomorrow.

Home is the safest place to be…
Soft, no less…
Comfy, as hell…
Roomy enough to hide all fears,
There, you are impervious to all the babbling gossips of everyday jeers and cares.

We are fighters!
Whose destinies were forged in the heat of battle,
Our colour—the badge of our tribe;
Emits scents of smokes, repelling every virus as nigh as six feet.
Wonder why we walked through the fires of that salt-sipping spree?
”Disease no dey kill African man”
That’s the good news, no Bible!

Publish it not in the streets of Europe!
That a Rona bitch besieged us.
Less the daughters of Cardi-B makes muse of us
Less the sons of Jay-Z sing songs that are dope;

Good personal hygiene is now the mantra.
Yes it’s all we got for this journey.
We always pull through
C’mon that’s true,
Rona or coro coro
We go still survive am, you go see am coro coro!

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