Solitary Bloom Poem by Wesongah David

Solitary Bloom



I cry for the bloodied womb of my mother,
Bore unto the world a bloodied street,
Sprouting from where lies buried the chord,
That for the sake’s of a forgotten son,
And another long lost son,
For whom logic is a live by the day die by night a nigh,
That she will die a sorrow is a curse unto the bundles of joy,
Lest we not forget the bind of ignominy

When a heart went out threefold,
By night cried for a struck by out petal,
Shredded onto the streets knifed,
Parts strewn by a sight for hounds and vampires,
Blood feisty red on blood hacked from thy womb,
That womanhood shall know no peace thereafter.

And the future holds for a lost generation,
The revelation spirit of a hell bound nature,
Spitting, crying for me, you
For defiling a mother’s insidiousness,
Spitting on a seat that hosts the high priest,
Doomed! By jove we shall seek love,
Never to find it! ! ! Shrieks the pariah,
And never shall we know a haven for ours insipidness,
And beholden out of favour toil our barren lands,
For a cast, half of what we plant!

Till the red bloodied streets quell in anger,
Till the boiling thirsty streets abate in anger,
Till the son on whose blood hounds survived on shall rise,
Till the flowers bloom off the concrete garden,
Till then the cast ons and ons.

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