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The Grave Room Maker by Akinwale Peace

Akinwale Peace

The Grave Room Maker.
The grave room Maker-
He has; the heart of the wind, bank of clouds,
The cru'lty of rain fr'm the eye of the sky.
He has; the ruins of a volcano, smiles
of a beast 'n' laugher of a crocodile.
The grave room Maker-
He forms darkness to the Worlds' Earth; the throat
of tears, trusted;- from his evil mind's art.
His silver clouds consumes crowds as the dew
from the eye of the sky on vale and flow'rs.
The grave room Maker-
Wheels clock up 'neath the sky as his bang bang
attracts souls to rest in dark glooms of death;
as his wrangl'ng hammer makes more room for corpse-
yet undead but he prays to make headway.
The grave room Maker-
Souls pray to live while he pray to earn more;
He did his best to make grave rooms of Gold
for clans to buy, hence he earns more earned gold,
he became a god of dark dank frank holes.
The grave room Maker-
he became a god of dark dank frank holes;
He knows something next to nothing but wealth;
wealth to life as folks of dead corpse to grave,
He ne'er thought of his 'ntil he made his last.
"words from the innocent mind"
             Philip Peace


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