Poetry collection-(WHAT MY SONS WILL SAY WHEN I DIE)

By, Eko Divine.

when I die

When I die, and my body stiffens.

when my breaths vanishes the ghost.

And the rhythms of my essence thrusts up

My ears and senses painfully.

When my bloods blackens in my blotting veins.

When worms sucks on the dips of my bowels.

When for a glimpse,

my eyes catch no more blinks

And the naughty looks beyond beauty I imagine

When each breeze stills my agony.

And I startled, anul my works.

Let it be great beyond

Though the astral manacles bind my tour.

And my soul sieged by self judgements.

Let the Judge measure the lines in degrees below.

When my lips planted the fields of humanity.

When my thoughts censored a message of love.

because in feasts, I drank not to lease.

But sipped a little liquor for stomach's sake

That I die not of fever's stakes.

When In religion, I found no path.

but sought the Almighty in Christ's

practice!

Carry me away gently that same day without wailers.

And there, at my self-dugged gravened rock,

bury me before I stink like the Hebrews.

That my soul be seen not wooing this creation Lady

Somewhere like a deceptive wraith.

Loneliness

I sit alone on a dry branch,

of a tall aged palm

Down below is all green:

Cassava green, or bush farm

Above is the thick cloud, grey is aged!

My claws are shaky and shivering,

My palms can barely clench these days!

Once flapping with a beauty,

with that admiring perch-coo.

Once I loved it cool

But now coldness scares,

my dieing soul attests!

Once my beaks painted red,

I kiss every mate to show love.

Whether in betrayal or in acquaintance;

My words were calm and smooth,

and could hardly not loose!

Once my feathers sheltered my seeds

Seeds I grew to mate or hate

If one were cock and the other hen

Where laws are slain and norms decay!

So what do I say of my darling palm

This tree of life left alone in the midst

Having being tasted by many

yet Adam and I remain a specimen!

"This tree is drained" so do every man say

And so have other birds, left her till she wastes!

"No money on ground"

You see the leverage of your County

Is swallowed up in quick greed;

Because the wield of money is hard-

Harder than the means from foreign lands.

But consider again what you shall gain,

The black stream mines to a bullion van,

A thousand thons of cocoa for an amour tank,

The Bini palms for a mirror baretor...

Enough! Enough of this vice my negro friend;

Economy is turning up and there's no money on ground.

Teach us O Greenbush!

Teach us! Oh Greenbush!

How your yellow sprouts of leaving

Infancies are nourished by golden rays from smiling suns

to sing a green song at evenings, not shivering!

Teach us; inexperienced weak buds

Of branches come off parent plants.

How unfortunate the yellow leave today;

to green tomorrow.

Teach us to beat our brains;

comparing the bloods of juvenility and the stagnant

Vies in this rose of Hildesheim

Whose ovaries have many flowers raised

But the breeze of time have most stale fallen!

Call me "fool" if I am.

The way I think

Of your smile!
The way I smile,
At your beautiful frown
The way I...I
The way I kiss your dusty feet
And marry my joy to your glad.

The way my feet shiver!

The way my fears fear your fear
The way I misbehave
Whenever you touch my brain's nipples
And moan in pain but would hardly say it.

I am begining to think
My thinking is lost in your pleasure!
I wish you could lose all for me too
But, call me a "fool" if I am.
At least set me free
From being obsessed to being
An individual being.