A tree, split with an battle-ax, sticks.
Voice of a shrike.

My Middle East is torn
Divided into sects and stones
Desert full of rage
Ancient cities bearing witness to atrocities
In the name of the merciful
Let the killing begin
Seek justice in an afterlife
For God is deaf

Ceasefire!
long enough to bury her face
Under the classroom's desk
Or onto her dead mother's chest
Nameless casualties in numbers
Gaze at the brilliant night sky
Rain of shells, rekindling the dark-ages
No truce is left
For God is deaf

The Father carried his young one
A lifeless log returned to earth
Faith unshaken among shouts and prayers
Let the words avenge you
Curse the creator in whispers
And spiral not into an uncharted nihilistic ground
Fuel your hate
For God is deaf

Commemorate the dead
With roses on their heads
Or with poems on their gravestones instead
Morality embedded in poetry, blood is shed
Humanity on trial
Blame not my words
For God is deaf
And in my Middle East
He remains,
Undead.

Every living thing
holds the same value!
The tiniest flower that grows through
the cracks of a sidewalk
is worth the same as the 70 year old
Oak tree
in your front yard.
The man who collects the garbage
from your office building
is worth the same
as the CEO of your company.
If you were gone
Or if she were gone
Or if I were gone
Or if that tiny flower got stomped on
And giant oak tree          
Got chopped down
The world would be a different place...
Even if it only caused the slightest change
In oxygen.

She told me
I was a bad boy
for breaking
her precious heart
& I said, "Well baby,
I'm so very sorry
to make you so very sad,
but I'm so glad, so merry,
'cause now I'm very free!"

And with that
she retorted,
"Right on bad boy,
me too!"

Seems like
she loved freedom
just as much as me,
who knew?

Oh, how sweet it would be
When Lucifer beholds thee
His string of words, ablazing a fire.
To read it with passion is what I desire.  

Oh, how sweet it would be
When the reaper comes upon me.
When his words ring in me,
They strike fear, greed, and joy.

Oh, how savory it would be
When Lucifer and the Reaper
Were to sing a melody of their own.
Anger, sorrow, disappointment, and pride.

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I wish to hear the poems of
The crooked, of the scarred, and ******

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am,
For I would tear off
The wings of an angel to hear
A wonderful song of sorrow.

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I would **** a child
To have coffee with the darkness.

Father, oh, Father..
Forgive me for my sins,
But I don't think I'm welcome here.

~ M.M

Under the trees we danced
Around blue made fires
With love and unity
Entertained with flutes and moonlight stories
Dropping from the toothless mouth of our elders
Accompanied with Wise words and warnings
That we may not be blown by the wind
Or drenched by the rain
.
Soon,we became orphans
Left with no breast to ****
Fathers and mothers lost in battle
Against unceasing slumber
We are alone like an island surrounded
By waters of civilization
.
Now we are lost ,lost in ignorance
Our hands,not strong enough
To hold firm the calabash
Given to us by our dead
Filled up with warnings and wise words
So we lost it!
.
Our hen is pregnant
But claims the goat is responsible
We lack fountain
But beg for water
Our barns are full with yams
But we gnash our teeth in hunger
We have golds
But cry for stones
Our eyes are open
Yet,blind to behold
As the beauty of our rainbow unfolds.

Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David
(Drunk poet)
ANA AAUA chapter
2017

248

Why—do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing—too loud?
But—I can say a little “Minor”
Timid as a Bird!

Wouldn’t the Angels try me—
Just—once—more—
Just—see—if I troubled them—
But don’t—shut the door!

Oh, if I—were the Gentleman
In the “White Robe”—
And they—were the little Hand—that knocked—
Could—I—forbid?