DEAD RHYTHMS by Mesioye Affable Johnson

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Filled in my eardrum are rhythms of doom
with the sweet tone of despair tuned in by bombing tales
of sacred nations with naive notions tied on boomed killings
to send serenity to the punctured hearts of slavery.

We were forced to listen to the fainting voice of motherhood
when her last breath gave a sign that diluted our oxygen in grief
with tears as the only aide to bidding her goodbye from this mean world
where enmity is the basis surrounding her oasis with jagged dreams.

Even at our comfort zones,our skins became host to zephyr of wars
which relaxed the veins of our anticipated hope
with compiled confusion to block our peaceful pores
where helpless ribs are littered around the gasping pillars of injustice.

Racism raced to grace our skin colours with sprayed enmity
from bereaved gouge of belief oozing death on raw dreams
which inscribed discrimination on our palms as recognition
for our worthy worth beneath the bloodstream of normalcy.

Follow me to the bony pastures withering whirling wailings
upon battered arid skulls kept in the hollows of horror
manned by corpses of men who welcomed their wives with tears
of anguish barging into the lands of innocence below their cornea.

Why have the pieces of papa and mama become meals to war?
Why have abnormalities vow to be our new garment
which is a must for all to brag with under the naked sun
with shadows of shame stuck on our infectious pigment?

Life, send your twin brother a message to the curtains of death
hung by bloody might without insight of greater heights,
That there shall be an explosive wind coming unawares
with nemesis through the windows that made women widows below.

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