Heathen Poem by Akujuobi Chijioke

False prophets!

Coating their words with honey,
But inside is filled with the carcasses of vultures;
They bath with the blood of the holy ones,
Painting the stars with all colours of deceit,
Inciting a bow, licking the dust off their feet.
Utter veneration to ungodly sculptures,
Rooted in the deep vine of their loins.
Satisfying their mundane appetites
Like a prostitute in the midst of her sons.
Who will advertise her promiscuity,
Her sheer masturbations in public?
Running like monsters in chase of vanity
A dead end crystallized in sanctity.

Savour the incense of your putrefaction!