As if I was pristine locked in the village,
Do you know that I call your name openly,
While sleeping, eating, reading or writing
And my brain walks my head to and fro
With benign revolutionary spirit
Like a substance supposed to be exuded
from a spiritualistic medium during a trance?
How many men can be like the Alpine plant
With white leaves and small flowers,
that grow among rocks?
You’re a large imposing building
that is built up in this heart .
Has my world been destroyed?
It’s only a clown that can make effigy of you,
because you are much, because love is not like a fag, don’t keep mute I say prithee!
Now I know that bee that produces the honeycomb
Which tastes fine, also stings.
I have seen the test of time, not by age,
But in mind.
Copyright 2006 Odimegwu Prince Onwumere
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