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by Shola Balogun

Now my tongue is chiseled
with riddles.

I have seen several severe dances
saved for the last brawl,
of fouled rumps rumbling
to the beats of bayonets

and the witless witness
seeking solace in the stunts
of a jabbering jury.

I have seen
the insidious fury
of the greedy gods,
their garrulous gabardines

and the mirthless mimicry
of deluded sickly siblings
yearning to mete eternity
with the cistern
of loaded rifles.

I have heard the thrilling rancour
of strutting sycophants,
the longings of zealous zealots
and the feline concerto
of hostile histrionics caressing
the jugular of barren seers.


There is no tiro eye salve on my eyes.
I have come to chronicle
the well-made malaise
of marionettes in the land.

Copyright © 2017 by Shola Balogun

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