by Qudus Olabode
Dear Baga,
would you ever write back
Give me words to spare once again
Its my seventh word upon the sacred cross
My fifth night in shades of waif
I hope its worth the hope to feel found in the clan
I found your poses by the river side
Its drenched in patches of rose
Clad in swaths of red
I found your message in crawling shadows,
Loose upon fields of mourn
Remember those trees you planted,
Our tears sprout their roots
Wails buoy their leaves to shed darkened fruits
We feed upon those memories Baga
Our hopes Mourn upon those horrid fragrance
The gazes of their wings strike dead the humanity left in us
Your veins soar upon our weakness
Your bellies fattened with souls of the innocent
Give me words to write,
It’s summer in baga
Ninth of the sacred clans,
summer in Baga I say
Dreams burn with flakes of spite
Maybe we might never shut those dank lids
Its heavy and swollen
They weep, smile and weep,
They smile still. Steel they smile
Tears sprawl upon sacred clusters of your shrubs
Its summer in Baga I say
Your drought fled the deserts to feed our cows
It burns harder, cold red it burns
Vows languish, strife flourish,
I found your soul by the river side
The last piece of conscience you spilled
I found your charm in skin of chameleon
You make grief out of smile
I found your charm in fingers of the miner
You gave life to our gold, while our bodies pile upon swaths of dust
I found your charm in skill of the smith
Our ores made captive of your many battles
You strike grief upon us
Your wands pierce our souls
Our future burns with the trickling moist of pain
I know all you have for us is love
The love butchers have for their fattened cows
I seek no vengence upon you Baga
I curse not those darkened trees your fruit bear
Give me words to write
Guide the feet of my words to where you conscience lay
Mimi is seven, Baga
You took her home with fury of your graze
Broke her nights in greed of your zest
Your gaze hurt Baga, they cut portions of darkness from the wombs of the night
Your clad with smiles of wolf are postures of your love
Mimi sends her words, give them to those your greed fed in your eternal bowels
I know your temples are filled with stray souls
They wander in your temples of horror,
Wonder if your light are made from the flashes of your sword
You took their worries you said
Maybe the showers of those blood would make meanings to the grave
Mimi would wake with the memories
Memories of her morning, the memories you plagued with mourning
She has found a home in you
Teach her how to hate once more Baga
Strap her bellies with those protuded dynamites
Bury her feelings in ridges of your greed
Sprinkle the drought of hatred upon her little conscience…
Spare me words Baga
Not the flashes of your blood tasty wand
Strike me poses Baga
Not your bewitched metals
Plant me memories, Not those of your endless grief
With Love from ME.
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