Babylon‘s screed;
where all bleak sockets search
for a god to plead,
for sins to knead.
Naively, we ignore
what became of Babylon!
The breathin’ piece of morbid pulse—
urges to live the World;
a throbbing disguise as
mere flesh,
We hunger for promises of
glittering ashes before dawn.
Naively, we ignore that ashes will become dust!
There are airs beyond these coffins
We yearn to breathe,
way of the two paths:
modern clergies of basilisk news,
or the quaint bleat of moral lambs?
The broad one—made of art
and the other one—less taken,
worded to ears of lewd wax,
like unheard sighs of nature to ripening Orange.
Naively, we ignore the awaiting eyes of devouring birds!
Written by: Olusa Femi Folahan
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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