Sin Poem by Benjuzzy Okpuzor

i came home to see my
Father,
He asked who's this Stranger,
But I blame brandy, and gray hair,

The vulture with it Cultured ways,
The dog
Looks back to what
Was left behind, he turns to

An enraged bull in bed,
Drunked with the blood
Of an innocent whisky,
Wine and women,

And estacy of whoring
To hell!
Consequences sitting
To slit me On a long

Bench with each deeds,
But what will kill a man
Will kill a man,
For all men are weak

When faced with wet
Opportunities,
What is born that is
Weaker than man?

Not even the fallen
Angels with equal
Purpose:
My mother is still a

Virgin though:
So tempt me not with
That which men were
Born and bred with,

Like the child who
Came to seek what
Killed the father,
He dig his own death,

Yet either by the slow
Snail movement of
Time we must all lay
Down with dust,

So what is more than
To raise my glasses
And grace, my bed, and
Being with that which

My heart desires,
The love of my life, and
The youth of my prime,
yet at the end, we wait

For the course of the
Curse from the gods,
All void of voice and
Vanity.