A Soul With Mary Poem by Okoemu Okoemu Okoemu

This girl has taken over my mind.
When I sit down,
I think of her, her nubian nose.
When I eat, she is there,
on my mind; I see her perfect silky skin
Sometimes I fear the world
will look at me
and read my innermost thoughts.
"What's her name? "
Mary!
She is twenty.
She is beautifully pretty
All the boys in the neighbourhood
Are jealous of me
I am just happy
to be near her
so I can look at her face
And I have looked at more than her face
She's taught me how to kiss like a man
One night in the rain.
Mary says the dearest things to me
Some delusion in my flaming eyes
and floating brain
That I draw up in my seat
And gasps in amazement
In myriad pricklings of
heavenly radiation
I have to struggle to see Mary's figure
And she looks like a goddess
Around her, I feel a serious and tender air
She has her own particular soul
Speaking herself through her eyes
And such lovely eyes
That do prophesy
And indicate the loveliest soul
My intensity over Mary
Rocks so great over her soul
She senses something.
And she begins to grimace
Which leads to bitter tears
And some unknown sorrow
That I have no means to soothe
Because it reached too far
back into innumerable mysteries
And time!
I'm awfully sorry that
I made Mary sad.
With anxious tenderness
I am waiting for Mary to fall back
Into my arms
To feel her soft black skin.
That tender cheek
and fair aspect.
I cannot take my eyes off that
slender dark girl and the way
like a queen.
I want to lean like a status
towards Mary ready to fly
and befunddlement across
her face as she glance coolly
and imperiously her way
I have bowed my head
For she is a queen.

-Okoemu Okoemu Okoemu