Akinwale Peace
Now I Live.
The pastor prayed till he became a prey—
For scattered powder puffs the misty cloud
And baths of ritual flames suffocates, hey!
The sky is black as ink, in drift'd smoke, e'shroud
with gauzy curtains and freezing coal blood.
The bang and pew of hating hearting spree
in rubble trimming of hard rugg'd weary rock;
A sacred melancholic melody
and rhythm of tempest ease 'n' torment'ng mock
of deep'ning gloom at golden shore of bliss.
Heart flown in flutt'ring feathers of gloom skies
and in wasting falls of saving baskets
like floating waves and hollow sounds of flies;
Gladness gladd'ns in pungent smells of caskets
and jealous moon d'fies the sun; sad demise.
Now I live with joy, in piercing of glee,
In oceans of darkness of foolish sage.
Now a breath that ceas's to breathe; like a sea
in gloom of doom like a free bird in cage.
Now I live, for each stay glooms in gloom-in-glee.
"words from the innocent mind"
Philip Peace
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