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whereby I lost my ears
misplaced my senses
somewhere nearly now
close, close as my nose

among the rafters
holding the ceiling up
somewheres
above the plaster

entwined in webs,
in the boxes saved
from centuries paths
right, right there

I can find them
given time
given centuries
given a direction
given a day or three
In five lines i wish to tell of a place
where many come to and end with the grace
the deafening silence goes further and yonder
the living sand depart making visible the unseen border
a place decorated with carved stones and lovely epitaph
Forgive me Father, For I have sinned
A woman's heart I took out
my emotions in chains again
everything done, no gain coming
Alack! In me a clean tout
Bless me Father under the rain

Forgive me Father, For I have sinned
A tabularasa is all that I need
my soul, Israfael takes to his master
a leviathan in disguise, I know
my heart like a tide goes yonder
Bless me Father when it starts to snow

Forgive me Father, For I have sinned
The monumental choristers are ready
when I asceed the rafter, Father
please let me through heavens gate steady
I hope I did well on your errand
Oruku's first son morbidly ascends
A curse I say, the thing of the heart
Must one love and be loved?
For the sunset and sunrise we lay
Tis growing high like a seed in clay
Say, must we hold on no matter
The reverberation of Earth pulls apart
For better No worse, is it love?
A curse I say, the thing of the heart.
I am that which i wish myself
the first son to pay at the first sun
I, not void of the happenings, thrusts,
i do with the pen, say, am i a poet?
an uncle, a brother or a son

I seem to have it in my head
proffering solutions with anger
it runs, i say through our veins
not quenching the thirst, relieving the danger
blood spats head smashed and wonder what gains

I am that which i wish myself
the first son to pay at the first sun
On the day I go in
A band of dancers, around
A drum of wine for guest
I have lived and caroused life, will be said
The journey to the great beyond
begins,
With the loss of air
No tears, No dark linen
A debt to pay is death
At the end, we credit our Father
Pray
The feeling, I consume hate
The thought, I get it all late
The grace, I know little of my fate
The movement, I move, stuttering towards
  the gate

Amen
To the thoughts I own
To things I'll achieve
To the fact I'm grown
That nothing will make me grieve.
I wonder,
Why we thrive to attain much,
And it ends with eulogy in church?
Why we struggle to make ends meet,
Praying fervently at his holy feet?
Why we choose to live,
And make others believe?
Why we must know love,
And not given a handy glove?
I wonder,
When I go in six feet
Will I be in thy holy kit?
I am for the Lord
I wonder if he'll send His holy cord?
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