Gbam!
The privacy screen of
the door he closed.
Hmm! Baba sat, he said
“too Lataaro!” (Since Morning!)
Exhausted from the L
queue. To him, in front was
A bald headed man,
sitting like an agitating god
Of an edgy swivel
chair, gestures singing a chorus of investigation,
As he had a
complaining smile on his hind face – for working on a Christmas day.
His two new phones
sitting with his standing pen,
And blinking a
resilient call for snub,
Standing on his upper
lips were bent acacia mangrove trees,
Preaching a
somnambulating doctrine of Immortality for souls.
Fragile catkins,
attached, but looking like eyes falling
From arched heavenly
walls hiking on watery shallows
Two balls on his face,
oversized I must say,
Stern! Like a light
speed thrown sting, from the stick walking
Chameleon with elastic
tongue as told by my forefathers - Yoruba land.
Intertwined smell, all
together, surely
A mix of odour from:
(1)
Palaecologist lab
(2)
Newly painted haven
(3)
And something bizarre, smelling
bittersweet that baba can’t really decipher.
Secretly, baba felt
his brain interlaced with he’s,
Sensed that he was a
serial killer,
A high way man often
on case altitudes,
Clinging to wall steps
like inner subway feigns,
And preaching after
breaking the lock,
Stammered, Jes u uuuu
… s, was out for a tinko! tinko!
With strangely wired
ones, hunting muscles
Like cougars, jaguars
and ocean orcas.
Outside were diffusing
broken bottles - two muscles in a bitter argument
Stylishly pretended
like I was non-committal,
An aggressive big
headed gave a punch to the outspoken
and frail looking. Left blood stains on white
tiles,
Traced to a below zero
degree, cold earthly hell fire.
Scalpels were held by
some green covered,
Plastic eyed, standing
their bodies in the next room,
It was an emergency of
do something for his colored papers
, and tell the
hustlers to throw him in the big fridge,
“Odigba” they said, Lock
the door,
Gbam!
nice job, this is really creative
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