"faithfuls" poems
Saintly cassock,
Glittering altar
Ornamental pulpit.
Driving the congregants
in a paroxysm of fib,
Gullibility enshrines adherents
hearts.
Do you know the Messiah more
than the apostles ?
Thou traders in the temple.
Parrotic tongues set out
commands
Loquacious sweet-coated mouths
misdirects faithfuls.
But the uncreated Creator who
creates creatures watches
Dreadful silence astonishingly
permeates the entireness
of the universe.
Do you preach love?
Do you follow peace with all?
Ye robbers in the temple.
Command darkness to produce
light.
But you turned moonlight into
tale.
Can you display Davidic dance
steps on the road?
Profanity of sanctuary with
false homiletics.
Merchants of dross in tabernacle
Speak.
Let us hear you.
Preach
To the congregants.
Righteousness afar from the
apron of faith.
Charity locked up in the
tunic of hope.
Sanctity of holiness sprinkled
into the tributary of sin.
Commanding the stars to turn
to sun,
Captains of night in light.
Ye robbers in the sanctuary.
Pastoral advertisers of chattels
in the tabernacle,
Merchandising gold dross in
sermonic hymns.
Sugar-coated doctrine wept in
the tomb of Lazarus.
Prompting Him to weep again?
Ye merchants in synagogue.
Disentangle faithfuls from the
webs of worriment.
Dislodge congregants out of the
shackles of sin.
Deliver ignoramus from the
isle of incendiary.
Let the sifter of strength
separate out afflictions from
feebleminded faithfuls.
Ye robbers in the temple
You love prayers more than God
But who answers prayers?
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
I experienced experience
I witnessed experience
Swarming like wild bees
Swimming from the brooks
Of outer Marina
Racing into the fountain
Of Islet of Lagos.
Our Lagos,
Their Lagos.
Diverse religionists
On spiritual missions,
Raising up hands in supplications
For open heaven,
For praise and worship.
Some on mundane missions.
Spivs, urchins alike
But this congestion suffocated
Spaces wept for control
Sea breezes searched for outlets
From outer Marina
And wants of oxygen waves
Hands for recognition.
Both faithfuls, penitents , miscreants needed air for survival.
Protestations appealed for audience.
Legs spent and tired ,
Craving for rhapsodic attention
Where are more seats?
Where are more spaces?
Helpless ushers uncaring.
But from the stage roars
Songs of inspirations ,
Songs of supplications
Like war cries.
Sounds from desk to dawning,
Music from dawn into deskiness.
And seat glued me till cockcrow
Night broke into day.
Fading music expelled adherents
Out of arena.
A loud silence now reigned.
Freedom from the fangs of stampede.
I experienced experience
I witnessed experience
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 10:16 AM UTC