Posted: January 31, 2014 in Poetry

by Olisaeloka Onyekaonwu

The sky frowned
and drizzles ejaculated
from the clouds,
breaking the earth,

splitting the branches of
the path of silence,

Let the ghosts
be the judge
of the wrestling match
between the dangling Udara seed
and the flying stones;

let them be the judge of that,

The Chief priest is now a fool
A fool is now an elder
Let the judge know that
madness has entered the land,

The sand has grown breasts
The air of Buenous Aires
is in a tryst
with the whore of Lima,

Let the judge know
that the earth has gone blind,

But who will be the judge
when we all are blind
and left gasping for hope
in this gutter of darkness?

Lyriversity — Liberty of Creativity

  1. Olisaeloka, your last stanza pinned me into deep sober reflections.

    “who will be the judge when we all are blind”…a million dollar question, neither the now “foolish” (according to you) Chief Priests, nor today’s Elders, have answers to.

    Well, my mind only takes solace in the universal judge, who sees when all is blind.

    Good poem…quite captivating and punchy. .

  2. Anene Francis says:

    I second mr Lion.
    Enough blame to go around, when everyone from the head to the least person are guilty of misconduct. The answer to the question is “no one”. You can’t be a judge in your own case. The question would then change to “we will set us aright?” With no messiah in sight, one better break away from the entanglement individually.
    Nice poem

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