Awkwardness Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

carving their names on the world's flesh like scars,
they won't waste their breath on the news of dead men.
if there are things humans should learn, it is how to
leave their emotions out of the equations uncourtly,
Keep an eyes on their flank, naturally and neutrally.
under a worried sky, the wind striped, blood shattered,
not in this rat hole shall children learn to sip passage of
rotten loyalty from their fathers. through sun and
through shadows, we'll walk by the side of the sun.

the sky, the earth's fate is bound till eternity,
If that up goes down, the other sip a reminiscence of
forgetfulness which is seen in the heart of women.
we can heal each other, we can reclaim perpetuity,
a fable told from the book of Azra, trust issues but
not in the cuddled care of mother fate whose template
Of love swells and faints at the sight of an oblong face.
let's man this forest of people that beloved hatred,
let this castle of cruelty home you after the night.








we'll watch the black linen of the stars across
the eyes of the Eagles in the sky for boring of nature,
we'll book Edom for the sins of Moses when time
takes part in the howling of the oceans could be
So devastating and a loved one ineptness delayed.
clumsiness of the moon is what made the sun,
let those without mouth render a theme of odium
to another forgone yesterday but remembered today.
we are the fault in the skin of the humble stars.

we are back from where we began our journey,
we smelt the fragrance of yesterday's fire now. the
slavery of every torn garment is awkward of peace.
you heard our voices through the wind when you
listen to it over and over again without a double ear.
every of us that leaves find a place in the skies' body.
a curse. A spell. A magic. A bound. Every spell cast
was horrible and ghost hunting among men of the past,
yet, our fathers betrayed us with lack and backwardness.


take a walk pass memory lanes, we'll leave our voices
at the back of the moon before morn awakes freedom.
how we built shatter for broken souls, how we pulled gory
and miseries from their eyes, how we heard their agony
shrieked yesteryear was something unspeakable.
we'll see our imagination again at their feet and eyes,
taught the flowers how to carry our smell to tomorrow;
we'll not make mistake of selling our children to poverty again
but, we'll carve a new world around not in awkwardness

Yours Poetically,
© John Chizoba Vincent