Adeosun Olamide

The Paper In The Corpse Soiled Pocket - Poem by Adeosun Olamide

If I die tonight,
I’ll be remembered as the dirty boy
Who –not once washed hands after eat
And whose blanket shelters cockroaches and rats-
That shall remove my boxers will fasten nostril
Preferring suffocation to odor it gives
Aye, since it mine came- it carries such
From- bits feces and sperms of masturbation
To- breeding ground for helpless maggots-
On my singlet- he’ll irk at mucus here
At the color of white now galling to a hog-
And he and they shall say- o he died of dirtiness-
Much that pig seems pleasant by his side
Not seeing of me-
The hero- who kept, used little-
So famished children could drink
Nor him who- wouldn’t rape another
When sexual impulse comes gusty
Nor would I be remembered
An animal lover- one that I am
But only shall they recall
-As the boy who died of dirt
When in fact-
I died due- diarrhea and sacrifice

Topic(s) of this poem: all

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, October 24, 2015

Poem Edited: Sunday, October 25, 2015

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