2: 43 Am Poem by Adedamola Quadri Adeniyi

2: 43 AM

Thus, I pen these dark words
As tears skate through my face
Tears of truth apparently subdue,
In accordance with my pen that bleeds.

Two forty three AM, I reminisce
Leaving home for an abstractworld
Where heads are use to drink
The bloods of brothers.


Two forty three AM, I wrote
Fear the smiles clad with truth,
In it lies a packet of lies.
And fear the cries that torment in bliss.

Two forty three AM, I heard,
Footsteps of doom accomplish with pains
Then I remembered home, oh sweet home.
Soon or sooner maybe even soonest
I shall sail home in promised truth.

Let no eye weep
For me, a stream that steam.
Buy me no casket of doom,
Call no undertaker of woe
When I set to sail.

When I subside,
Carry my body and leave my soul
For a sacred rite shall be perform
By those in the tribe of words.
My body should lay in my fatherland
With best of the best of my words
To glamour till eternity.

Write me words to give to him at home
For my gain here in your world it is.
Let no hand write for me,
Expect that of perfection.
From the Smith of words
The lords of pen.

For I am sailing back
to the island of treasure,
Sing me no song of sorrow.
If I am to sail today, then so be it
For all the word is a stage.

(C)Adedamola Quadri Adeniyi
All Right Reserved 2017.