The Incipient Wails Poem by Joshua Adeyemi

the rhythm of his words Bore
By the mystic wave. The door
Of his glottis ravaging the still
Atmosphere serened by the sun's breath.
On an armless shirt, On a legless stool,
His voice raised, syllables from his tongue flew:

Let it not be heard when the Incipient
Comes, that the fair will Be spent
In odd nooks of life, neither
Will the good be stripped in the damned!

Let it not be heard that the government
Official shall be girded in worn rainment,
To preach a sermon worn by time.
Let it not be heard that the prime
Of maidens shall be a gate,
Where all sole tread by which did marks create.

The priest shall not curse,
Neither the littlun escape with the purse.
The wicked shall not by pleasant form,
when I (The Incipient)comes.
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