Holding the words in a song mouth echoes,
The brutality of fading smokes into dwarfs,
For the lyrics are welding thorns of tongues,
That blew the songs at their lover’s lips.
Shall we punch the wind and bend the sun?
Even after counting the eyes back home,
To know the colors of blood a mother left,
At the edge-mouth of a rare forgotten silence,
Still, we dance to the breast of a lady pulling,
A trigger beneath the shoulder of a survival.
I have learnt how to burry my fear inside water,
And touch the language of my mother’s bed,
Like a ghost amidst of running darkness.
We were taught the welfare that do bid war,
With packaged liver of lives that never rise.
Is this how life dies at the lips of a lover’s body
By shutting the mouted mountains of Ahab?
And claiming to pocket the tears in his eyes,
Into reaving rivers’ city of a leftover coffin.
Now, I see how songs do die without walking,
The hands of a shutted court rememberance.
We fisted the world gone nude in aged days,
As time pass-by with lots loads of eyeing up,
But the soul to talk out with a booked book,
That fed the hunting shadows out off to prey.
When my body keeps boiling salts in stress,
I kill my body three times and eat myself,
For boys’ living is leaving homes,
By walking into the palms of the future,
And dancing to the elements of the song sang,
By whispering of silence and a charol chapel.
Adeniran ogooluwa Joseph also known as his pen-named:prince Joe started writing Articles and editing of short stories from secondary school in 2015 before he was mused and encouraged by friends in mean poetry in 2016.he writes poetry, prose, and Articles as the muse leads.He hails from ibadan.