Poetry

June 29, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

UN photo

 

By

Muhammadnasir Aloba

 

 

 

Blood became water

 

 

We haven’t quenched the fire of one, another is sprouting,

gnarly news has gone far away in a city that has lost its map,

stinking news is what we behold every single second, minutes to hours

 

Wherewith blood is becoming water,

That we find facile for quenching our thirst

Wherewith we find innocent souls as the souls befitting for embarking on a journey of no return

 

Why do we not have pity on one another

Why do we turn ourselves to an eye and pepper, that doesn’t welcome unity.

Why are we becoming a slayer, taking away the souls we beget not.

 

Is this a punishment or a curse we evoke

Instead of dwelling in righteousness, we’re committing damnation upon damnation

How do we overcome this cross, when God is not yet done watching our psychosis.

 

And when we’re done with the madness

What would we say impel it

Religion, ethnicity or what

It is better we put a stop to this now before our flesh become our food.

 

 

 

 

 

How To Count Stars

 

 

We all want to fathom the language of survival

Without a stumble upon a modicum of exigency

But, can we get the picture of how it looks

If we don’t have scars painted all over our body

 

To count stars is to

-run a race of a thousand miles in half a second.

-hold your breath until you see the leg of death walking through you

-sit down your shadow and speak of parting words

-fathom the language of monkey wrench

-hover aloft a mountain without wings

-wrangle with the sun-live and win

-kiss the dust and tread it anew

 

Bearing up with all, one would bleat out the rigor

That flared up in the interim of the rocky pains

Then, you would see scars painted all over you

The one that depicts a man fowling for survival

 

Putting the clog beneath your feet is a colossal boom

For a slothful man dare not walk through the inferno

You trod the shuddersome but a fecund path

With the effrontery built in rose coloured glasses

 

Now the language of survival is in the limelight

Like a wind that knew its foreordained direction

Lo! Walking your mind or eyes through this piece

You’d wade through aught but how to count stars

 

 

 

 

 

Muhammadnasir Aloba

I’m Muhammadnasir Aloba with the pen-name ‘eminent’, from kwara state, Ilorin, and a student of university of Ilorin, studying statistics. I started writing in 2016 and believe poetry comes with a language that heals the world.

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