Those souls silenced in the excruciating agony of stillbirth
Bloody foetus of murdered thoughts
Bleeding lumps of rhymes
Littering the deserted railways of washed out pages
Now the graves don’t cry no more
For my minds cemetery parades
A multitude of ghosts
Fleeting shadows of words
Long dead?

God bless the dead
Those words that didn’t make it through
The hellish pits
The dark cravens
The rocky cliffs
The bleak landscape of my thoughts
Yet like followers worshipping a totem pole
So they gather around me
Blood curdling whispers
Shrieks of abandoned lines
Lost in the swirling mist of negation
Like abiku
Scared and bloodied
So they piteously whine at the altar of my shrouded thoughts

God bless the dead
Those wild oats sowed
Some lost in different cities
Hidden between junks of memories
Others sprawled across pages in different places
Banished to the hinterlands
Where .hungry looking words roam the wild
Starved wolf’s hunting prey
Yet hope is not lost
But lies behind the maze of reunion
Glinting like stars across the vast starry skiesk
God bless the dead.

Written by: Ken Bena
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

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