The End Poem by kofi sammy morrison

The Creator strolls on a parched river bank.
He doesn't recognise His own Creation.
‘'This is not the Offin? Oti or Pra? ''
‘'No! definitely not the mighty Ankobra''.
He spits out poisoned waste in His quest to quench His thirst.
With a gnawing stomach He throws in a net for a catch.
‘'Ah the net is heavy, promise of a good catch.''
Entangled Parched white skulls and skeletons stares blindly back.
Nothing stirs, nothing comes. All is death.
‘'After Heaven and Earth,
I created the waters with boundless stores of food,
Everything I did was good.''
‘'On the 6th day I even created Adam……………
Alas …….. He turns my waters into poisoned dams.
He, who was here last,
Will not even let His own food last.
This I will not mend. I refuse to mend.
Man, prepare! This is the end! ''