1 - Where Death Dwells

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If this is what poetry births, I do not want to be a poet
You see, I have forgotten how to cry again
The membranes made for tears are dead now
They over-cried their hearts and suffered an attack
While they worked and walked through cruel corridors;
With spirits calling out for redemption on benches and broken beds

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The hospital is a fine place - come to Nigeria and see
And I love her scents like I love appalling things
Only I am a smell allergy to a tragical sense
And when this scents call at me from shadows ,
Stretching, sneezing, stressing and suffering
I become shivers running down my own spine .

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As pastors are pointers to salvation
So are doctors and nurses to redemption -recovery
Only pastors these days are parasites plundering sanctuaries
Only doctors and nurses these days are nightmares ,
With harsh handlings of victims and revelations of death
Scarring satanically the courage of survival out of dying breaths

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This poetry is a lamentation of a heaven turned hell by merciless mortals
And again I am made a weeping poet sinking in the rivers of his own eyes
I miss humanity like I miss oxygen and I now cherish living without pains
The things I see these days are contradictions and confusions
Like death dwelling defiantly in healing houses - hospitals
Like governments governing houses housing ghost and shadows



2 - Give Us Hope (A Beggar's Burden )

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Feel the still silence noisily nudging my muse
From stings of slumber to punches of paper
Yesterday I saw hope beg for hope
On rags of rust and ruins
And I cried money
Into her hands
Stretched like
A beggar's.

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A heart,
And many miseries of,
Pleas and many silent sobs ,
Of give us hope to cope and hope.
A cross, many miseries milked
And averted through stones of gifts
Feel the still silence noisily nudging my muse
From stings of slumber to punches of paper



Written by Ifeoluseyi Ifeoluwapo Ifeyemi


Read more: http://www.rapportnaija.com/2016/12/where-death-dwells.html