Hasn't one got to spew phones hard to decode as
to the abode where peace within n' without the spirit sit?
Where's tagged yo even tho' a swallow cause woe crow can't swing so-
Tho' tattered the tinted iron sheet where monies plummet
As the gutter cause gustatory gas turning our tummys tumbling
Being like my street, Africa boom, acrid smells-
Malodorous litterings line too with yellow ejects of anuses
Headquarter-ing the singsongs being of flies of dis-ease.
Arboretum in the States houses the little boy Bosnai (bomb)
And the Sussex's end of the world's land's cliff bear this beauteous glance
if mounted; as well as the meddling in the middle of the Middle East
To the south of xenophobic4 south of Africa
Past pounding the heartbreaking 94th rape through crescent of Algeria;
True I love the seven seas, continental call as the crown sited in the States
No paradise on earth betters my home, the aborigine
Africa's my home: the root suffering the yokes of her vine.
© 2019 Odunayo Areyemi
Hello, I am Jodekss Gloatkenf --my penname. I am a professional writer, ghostwriter, researcher, editor, blogger, podcaster, artist, thinker and lightworker. I believe in creativeness, diversity and uniqueness --my definition of art.
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