Mike Ekunno

The dozers rumble
And the hood turns to rubble
Man and mammon in disarray
No finger lifted in affray
...

Clik-clok, Clik-clok
And here comes female god
Making a high-heeled entry
To the tiled floor of victims’ souls.
...

Transported to her bosom
I marvel at splendor so awesome.
The lilting, languid serenade
Of a parade
...

Is in decking out
And having poverty
Not recognise me.
...

Like a pregnancy
Visiting labour room
And returning un-discharged,
Dusk arrives
...

You lost me
Like fermented palm wine
What sweetness there was
Now all tartness.
...

Lord!
What terrors You thrust me through
The treacherous terrains
Craggy heights
...