Dust On The Green Bible. Poem by PROMISE ITA OKPOHOUDEME

Dust on the green Bible,
Rotting righteousness, holiness in the Bible
And now comes the time,
The Lord gives her a worthy portions,
For the Lord loves the wicked everytime,
So, he shuts up her peace,
As in the ridding of Absalom,
Like the fame of a wicked in doom,
The Lord is fretting the Greenfield,
And her adversary provokes her sore,
With the heavy steels from the womb of Hagar,
Because the Lord has shut up her peace
So, the dusty bible hues to the mount,
Wails to the Sky as rising death refuses to die.
She's bitter in her soul,
Very callous on her stool,
Wearing white cloaks on stinky skin,
How's dark, calmly elephant in slavery chain!
Spoiling the toiling of distant pains,
Your Moon is daily wanes!
As darkness quickly moves,
With heavy graves planting daily here,
The Storm wears garments unclear,
Wait, is it the feasts for fists,
Or the Christmas of guns?
But, this wound's win when,
Hearts grow grasses on onion,
Where a knife for one's a knife for all,
A pot of oil for one's a pot of oil for all.
Sandy is the foundation of green Bible!
Why won't erosion runs her to the West,
Like the Lord isn't in everywhere,
Is he deaf dumb to prayers!
Why won't cloud gathering on green prayers?
Oh Greenfield, elephants of the dark forest,
Where's the fist of her elbows,
What's this pride has done,
Just walking about a soundless gong,
Seeking salvation from piano song,
A self-made author, finisher of modern faith,
Faulted globally that he's coming for wealth.
Oh, how a little leaven leavens a whole loom!
A drop of blood bloody the whole field,
School has closed,
Here are the assessment report of failures.
'Destroy the enemies of your children Lord! ',
But, God is not a murderer,
A creator of the earth of murderer
He only heartened the stiff-necked,
As when they stoned Stephen to dead,
Oh, dusty green bible do you pray?
Living on the mountain to blame
How could you sees through a dusty window!
To know the signs of the end coming
In her immediate becoming.