March 2, 2021

AFRICAN BARD

..where you get familiar with everything happening

TELL DEATH TO RETURN THE BOY HE PICKED FROM MY NEIGHBORHOOD LAST SATURDAY By John Chizoba Vincent

2 min read
death By John Chizoba Vincent

In the middle of life we are in death& I now come to rescue this boy from theenemy that stretched bodies into pains.I stared at the sky as the first shaft of September’s sun crept over black horizon.a tall church spire reached into the clearsky, pointing it’s thin stone finger at hiscomet that hung in the peak of heaven.my body is burning with the shame of not fighting for your life, boy!sometimes it feels like someone else is bearing my name & gut or -Someone else is holding back my strength!i don’t want to be a hen that only shouts for the rescue of her chick & when nobody comes around, the matter ends there.I’m shaking water like ships do, I’mfacing death like warriors do.i spent nights and days in the mouth of the grave looking for you, son.i want death to spit you out right now like home spat me out last Friday.death & grave can’t be safer than living,no one leaves this hood except it hasbecome the ghetto mouth of cannibalSharks;I know few things to be false & others true.i am the sin of your death & memories of your sin but I won’t allow you to get lost in the wrapped palms of death.if a boy like me won’t break into this infernoto get you back, then, call me no hero.each time I look at the mirror,  all of my grievance are better than the scent of a woman, with the gift of your noise, I’m alive!with the silent of your spirit, I’m consumed.you won’t go now, it’s not time to go-home seek you, boy! the boys said they would match down tomorrow before dawn to tell death to getyou back to the ghetto where all lives are template of their own past.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

+ 30 = 37

Copyright © All rights reserved. | Newsphere by AF themes.