This noon, the sun no longer heats hatred on black skins, to lick the shattered bloody bones of stillborn breaths..
silence squashed the sighing ambiance
that laced innocent tears on weary clouds of gone souls
waiting to host sacred bones between the laps of death
where pleasure oozes from the able scrotum of vacuum.
dusty dusk of nightmares held by blind breeze
ran into snores and smashed raw dreams
beneath loamy dawn of mirage dug by their parched fate
and strangulated in the cozy hands of countless fiery nights.
But this noon,
smiling sparkles of mournful mornings
ignite the yearning yawns of youthful yesterdays
and quench the thirst of bloody crows with dews
that lay mists of revival on the arid visions of
the sun no longer heats hatred on black skins
to lick the shattered bloody bones of stillborn breaths
butchered behind cupid corridors of fluttering deceit
with chopped sacred skulls as evidence of her artistry.
castrated moments whirl under the dumb clouds
whose eardrums have been punctured by thorny tales
with only the rejuvenating echoes of dead silences
breaking the rigid ribs that caged those hearts –
rains of poverty would sail sucking souls and their seeds
through the rotten roots of eternal muddy misery
and nail their barren hearts on the cross of hardship
to resurrect with truth in the damp pits of flooding
like the pervading shadows of wings in the sky,
flying dirges would freely flap their lingering lyrics
of memories on naked zephyr of darkened moments,
tying powers to the decaying pole of burnt consciences.
eclipse would cease to sip our consciousness again
through the lungs of violence controlling our heartbeats,
but buries its veins under impulses of pounding normalcy,
for as peace hovers; wars still break feathers of tranquility.
reality shall be the moon consuming voracious nights,
serving its remnants as survival for starving tomorrow.
But this noon will not come if our souls are not gone;
gone to the tomb of life where truth becomes infidel.
Mesioye Johnson is a 300-level student in the Banking and Finance Department (Management Studies) of Federal Polytechnic, Ilaro, Ogun State. A performance poet whose works have featured in Words, Rhymes & Rhythm (WRR), Mesioye was shortlisted among the 10 finalists in the Tony Fernandez International Poetry Competition in 2015.