The Cynical World Poem by amugune amudava

Cravens craft into the depths
Of my soul
Cats purr out, saying
We once lazed in righteousness,
As owls dictate messages of death
To kin’s in hibernation

It is no longer a world
Embedded in ecstasy
Geometrically it fits,
Into cylinders of hatred
Natured from the weaning milk
Of the black heart

Yet, my heart dwells
In green thickset’s of boredom,
Hunger and pride
Then claims
Climax nears
Oh God! Drill through
The clouds depth to witness.

Wind aggressively
Shaves my black head
Rain conquers the earth
In a long victory desire, wailing
It’s cynic! It’s cynic!
The world rolls on a thread
It’s almost over
The scotching sun crawls
Out its sleeping quarters
Hastily fumes to blossom
Then angrily
It shoots hot vertical rays
Saying, we refuse to roll
It’s not over yet.

The world wails
Streams of oppression
Democracy! Democracy!
Darkness shall pounce on light
And man tiredly shuts
The shutters of knowledge
Machines doze to sleep
Tomorrow again, tomorrow.

Great minds jerk to wakefulness
Machines yawn in expectancy
As dawn crawls to adjournment
And creation elongates to infinity
Bye, bye to married ideas
We celebrate, the birth
Of new infancy
The cycle is elevated
To keep men in limbo