Making Tea For Queen Jezebel - Poem by ogunlade john
I know the way of my God,
During festival, I heard the alarm of a bloody clock.
There was no freedom for laughter and evil imitation.
She knows the stick, she drink blood and kill pendulum flight prophet.
Was she callous?
Againt God, she love god, knowing she drink God's tea.
Was her god not the creator of tea?
Now she request spurn.
For I am Jezebel God's servant.
I was jealous and not spurious
Because of God calibre, I imitate Satan's tradition.
I look at her flashy dress with accurate length of grave.
I pour the tea on her feet to provoke her timing character.
She only alters a word, 'Death'.
I thought of sky blue hell but she meant the past of those tea provider.
Then I must die.
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