G(g)ods Tarvan |
In G(g)ods little
tarvan,
he brews thoughts;
a leaf here,
a poets tears there,
and a touch of
insanity,
immersed in the pot.
Letting it all boil in
tripods
of gluttonic minds.
Serve us a kerg
of wine,
Oh! Lord.
In soul drowning
rooms darker than
the hearts
of men,
costumed in the
habiliment of
sangfroid miens.
Let us inebriate with
cups made
off the calabash.
.
In G(g)ods tarvan,
white is the
tonal variation that
turns black
after palms are
bleached
with karki coloured
envelops,
serve us a shot of
holy wine
we beseech thee.
Let us too, like the
priest
drink while still
offering our prayers
at the altar
of your tarvan.
copyright 2016
Akor Emmanuel
Oche |