Boulevard Of Fear Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

It shall come to pass,
A time of harvest, a swell time
When the green field yield
A truck full of pears and cheers
Certainly, you shall call me names.
Funny nomenclatures, ― son of a gun
You shall recall this things
Right on time, my age and class
Years from now, my hope where killed
On this road, this boulevard of fears
Wretched and weird with no claims
At the time the journey begun.



Boulevard! Crook path of cheers
A place of strong and valor
A way of friends and foe
A natural college, an acid test
Surrounded by applause and boo
If you must survive on this cruise
These trails must outweigh errors
Errors are small ladders of fears
Scattered in numbers, size and colour,
Steer setbacks in our poor miserable soul
Like an end of the road, a tempest
That rises, stretch leaving a clue…
That, this road to gain has its rules.