Faked Poem by Melanie Emikohe

Poetry is like Jesus

was once...

It was a daily conviction,

like rice is to Asians,

It was a birthright,

like chopsticks.



No faith's demised -

just a reshuffling of definitions!

And burgeoned from the blackhole.

Too spooky for the House of Commons,

so I kept my silence.

(Creamy isn't white once you meet the Toilet Paper) .



I rather realized it was futile

and now, irrelevant

except to a few wannabes

myself included.

(How superficial -

Art must be for Art's sake,)

Therefore, forgotten

and words left me.



Necessity put me back to This.



But now, a passion so contrived,

imagination imagined.

Just a goofy thought and messy letters,

Verses eloped with my innocence.