The Bars Of A Castle. Part-1 Poem by Oluseyi Akinbami

The Bars Of A Castle. Part-1



A brother offended is harder to be won than a strong city: and their contentions are like the bars of a castle. Prov 18; 19

Benighted embestir nurtured suckling onerous (mania) numb
Though,
He was his brother before he was seven,
When repugnance was alien to a growing child,
He strengthen himself against his childish folly
When filial bond compel amity on life-long acrimony,
He forced hatter's blood from the milk of love seeking juvenile
Armed in innocence, he imbibed animus from his kindred's blood
Pugnacious naiveté gradually tears down our haunt,
A better fighter, took his arm to the land of sane men,
Far away from third world Afric, he drank the brutality of Carl Marx,
Armed with Hitler's hatred, he wears the patience of the Jewish boy
Drawing swords of rancour against his growing experience,
And as a child, he watched the brew of odium in silence
He cried, unknown, unknown, was my faults,
Though he slipped many a times, because his tutors watched for his halting,
With western skills and energies, the rage General, employed a troupe,
Idle kith and kin informants enlisted for the battle against his pristine foolishness
The bitter sense of severance, conquered his ambition,
Circled by antagonist, rumouring his childish errors, fanning the flames
Hello, hello, we have a chinwag,
The Harvard trained Erasmus, lowered to ravish unconfirmed tittle-tattle
Until they cunningly lured him, then he stretched out his odium,
Doing more harm to none but himself,
He was his brother before he was seven,
His fierce anger, burns,
Before he was seven, the stickler dazzled a sword at Mission Street,
Not to an enemy,
It was for his own preceptor, the "son of John",
He piqued him later to an early grave,
As he did "Nel" on his first arrival,
Some evil causing quietus
Rest in the spirit of an angry man
Though, fathered by their late clergy
His rebuke came too late,
Yet,
Visages of his first schoolmaster sends shiver down his spines
Virulence bottled up balefully,
Overdue resentment tiled voyages of unturned meanness
A commanding tone, a forced obedience
Compelling children and adults to his perfectionist perfidy,
Our king reign in rage, the head-boy rules like a tyrant
His visage marred with venoms of evil memoirs
READING, come not near, I AM BETTER THAN YOU
His arrogance, was his fusty pedagogic ranks,
Wrongfully laid on the paths of his knight in shining,
His voyage to Europe, brought no succour,
To the perishing estate of his prime,
Nature's attendance misused, dissimilar to Joseph's voyages
Surreptitiously upturned and replaced his interest for his disinterest
Beckoning to a brawl from far country
He watched, watching still
He was his brother before he was seven,
Our instructor, who will manage his boyish choler?
An impatient teacher,
His venom, triumphed over his Cambridge and Harvard instructions on love
Yet, he boasted of Education
Though, this "Brutus is an honourable man".
This honour, Knows not when to let go,
Though indeed he is an honourable man.
His friends could not tame him, he fought with the best and the rest took caution,
They blame it on him and urged him to pray
He prayed that he would learn, the jewels of love
He was his brother before he was seven
Yeah seven of innocence, seven without a guide, seven abandon to die
Seven, conquered by a troupe, seven when others hid their faults broadcasting his
And more, the wedding invitation, the superficial love of his folks to hide shame,
The pretence, Let me lough, the suspense, the gift, the trips, the insult
The guns, the threats, the plea, the suspicion
And more
He was until seven his brother, but their contentions are like the bars of a castle

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