Cares never did were for tears.
Neons once existed through unknown eons.
Where fears never did were.
Storm in calm, a new lifetime’s come
Riddled with despair as sour as lime wriggled.
Not willing to endure this rot,
Momma drifted through ‘llusion of the former.
Rousing scorns would fill my ears, musing:
“Such bright life you did dream of in church
S’only seen in lullabies of one lonely.”
Memories of this chain-breeding diaries—
Our should-be safe haven in a troubled hour—Picks a red painting of clichéd epics:
Of wolves draped in sheep’s clothing; but worse of
Are shepherds preying on their flock’s fresh fat liver.
Realities of atrocities—
Vain pastimes of wolfish guards real insane
Who forgot their binding vows and cue:
“To serve, protect and save one, three or two…;
With love, strength and bloody feat .”
Realities of insecurities—
The portion of victimised masses and the
Ones who frown at such grand betrayal once,
Still with no deadly ire in heart, but still
Get gunned down with their rare nexus on set.
Hands connected in binding bands
On that lethal hour were torn apart, my son!—
Time we stood our ground to say ‘NO!’ to crime;
To our shepherds’ brutality and unto
Hunger induced violence and dander.
Whether or not we live or wither,
Masters of our cherubs lend no ear to our matters
Some calm to groans are drained off wasting our blossom.
Pests would rather seek to quell our raging protests.
Core aims transitioning from tranquil to gore.
Our bestial guardians— seeds of a wrong hour.
Pain in the ass; eyesores; a deluded horde of bane
Thanks to you, we sported a rare bond, no ranks,
But at the grisly expense of blood and rot.
Our bestial angels— hopefully crushed foes in power.
(c) OLUYEMI ELISHA