Philogynist In Phallocentric Cloak Poem by ENOCH JOHN

ALPHA

The weather has made up its mind, it's going to rain
cats and dogs the Americans say.But this is not
America and Uncle Sam doesn't reside here.
But beneath the jewel of Jehovah's vaunted heaven,
With the careless ease of luxury, once a much-tenanted city squatted
But now the rat is in his hole, and then he is out,
Terrorizing the law, mocking it, holding it to ransom
sending a scarlet city into a tailspin,
Breathing the putrid air of fear everywhere.
Fear lives in the sidewalk cafe,
selling steaming cups of coffee or coca-cola;
fear begins to inhabit the all-inclusive fetes
where the offspring of the well-to-do flock
or the ordinary working folk(the clerk in the Ministry of Works and the nurses' aide) .

The gun has taken over our paradisal Eden but
there's no Pied Piper of Hamelin.

BETA

He, who with winged swiftness fell away
from the brilliant light- nine times,
said Milton, of the the ''light bearer''.
O Lucifer! Thou art fallen, fallen!
For your vaunted pride did inflate you,
and bow you wouldn't bow!
You would rather reign in hell's ashes,
than serve the Heavenly king of Creation.

GAMMA

Once a philogynist clothed in his phallocentric cloak of compromise
with the sturdy rod of profanity;
breaks asunder the veil of sanctity and
is excommunicated by Cherub's flaming sword.
And from lofted celestial ensemble
no joyous sound came;
no clashing cymbals
or flute melodious to proclaim his fall
and, no dancing or delight in holy heavens hall.

DELTA

Once I had this dream of the tiger in his power
who will break the chains and eat their guts, their liver, spleen and heart.
No Pied Piper but a fierce tiger with the leopard's strange eye.

Over horizon of covenanted man
dark clouds hang low, and the bird of prey,
attaches itself to a hovering cloud.
the signs are inscribed with white cumuli.

UPSILON

My heart is filled with wonder
of sorrow of many worlds.
It's this delicate feeling that smothers me like a cloud,
that bedevils me.
I do not see the clear light of day.
We, who seek with such earnestness
the superficial materialism, with all our strength
and ingenuity wasted on a passing parade, a facade of sorts;
some phantasmal dream of fools.

But today I felt the exhilaration of the wind on my skin.
I am more alive than the wind.

OMEGA

I've asked Clio the muse of history to re-examine
every papyrus and every hieroglyph, every parchment.
Speak to us Clio, muse, in stark honesty.
Shed your centuries-worn cloak of Euro-centricism and
speak clearly of Dhar Tichitt, Jenne-Jeno, Daima-Sao and Ile-Ife

The grass only appears greener this side of the fence.
Suppose it's just some painted imagery of a mural that's staring at you, tantalizing your feeble, unstable mind?
Himself sat polishing
a brass facsimile of himself;
narcissus didn't seem to mind looking
back and admiring himself, or even
writing about himself

The tinsel is fading,
As the twilight.