the air seized it’s chance today screaming
“**** me!”
and every seed burst
obligingly in a torrent of stars and silken hope
yet a mere quarter hence
the deciduous mantle will slip, dowager dry and lentigo browned,
to dance tiny pirouettes with devils of dust & grit
amongst a litter of sepia confetti as summer’s rusted brides fall
their contract fulfilled

Whims within whims,
The nation stumbles and breaks
Penetrating her open wounds,
With the debris of the civil war.

Loony vultures and eagles;
Back on the ****** dinning table.
Feasting in flickering fuss;
With their loopy lentigo claws.

For the love of my generation,
And the one after.
For the love of rightness;
And all that it stands for.

To fill the empty spaces
Of our future that will
One day become our past.
I rise!!! I rise!!! I rise!!!


© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2016