THE HAWKS

From the crypt of our lonely rocks,
in bulks comes these terror hawks.

Here and there they are
not so high
in our smiling noon sky, there they fly.

their eyes_a gloomy glow of horror;
pointed at our lasses
is their crooked fingers and claws.

Right before our aghast eyes,
they clang and sunk their claws and  fingers
into the shivery shoulders of our GIRLS

off to their bloodcurdling cave,
they hurriedly wave.

ye ehhhh!!!
E gba wa ooo!
Abike oo Anike oooo Ashake ooo
our daughters ooooo

mamas deserting their wrappers
dizzy,giddy, their entire bodies
on the surface of the sod
with their swarthy thigh flapping in the mud.

papas_with a daze in their gaze
up and down,they blankly pace
with their caps flying in the swirling wind.

Tears of blood rolling down our chicks
as we bend on our knees
holding our bleeding chest
vomiting our wounded hearts.

Those fragile creatures are our future treasures

oh! Our virgin Marias

fastened around their waists like beads
is the seeds of cowries;
our dowry......

in their innocent wombs is the tube
of the defenseless embryos
of our future queens, emperors and kings.

bring back our girls,bring back those jewels;
a freedom song in the tongues of our caged birds

Our Caesars,
gather your wounded wings, fly like a raven
into the profound of their cafe

bring home our girls__save
for their virgin wombs is the pregnancy of our unborn future
slavery is not an iron beads
that befits the necks of these future creatures
they are the emblems that will inherit our image, our literature.

***THE ART***

One night,
Poetry,  a gray-haired sorcerer
flaunting his skills Merlin to a  Seraph.

This adept sorcerer chameleon
from  Art now to an  Act

Like a bat from bird to rat.

At first,
his tap like mama's soothing pat
I felt on my chest
and next, this artful sorcerer
magic to a fragile wave
that blow my mind out of planet earth.

my savvy mind glance,
this must be a journey to France.
He says, this is not to France,
just relax, rejoice and dance
as you journey to a land of trance.

A scenery_ an alive imagery
of a singing African canary
salivating a pool of spontaneous flow

a gentle Tsunami of melody 

penetrating from front _ to back
crawling through all entrances streaming...
over flooding my mind as a whole.

life's melody
whose rhyme time is comedy
a rhythmic beats of tragedy
that moan in the tone of the phones
in the stanzas of life's eulogy

Poetry,
a lyrical oracle commentary
God coil around the tongues of poets
singing inspirational songs of sonnets:
wash stains from human minds
he says again and again.
leave behind no Mephistopheles taint,
splinters of evil in man must faint.
bath them plain 

for at the end, they'll march along
with my white garment saints.

preach peace north south west and east
from monasteries to monasteries...

when ignorant stinking thinking in human
like a serpent sting
making life softly sobbing,
sing to life
a quiet quiet lullaby.

now,
moving sound waves
from the voice of the lapidary stanzas of poems
will echo! through our divided towns and cities
rounding buildings, a ritual of cleansing.

celebrate no enmity,
impurity and insanity are nonentity
disunity among humanity is a calamity.

For every poem is the lord's minister
the poet : a reporter
a persona standing on the alter.