The Rhapsodists Last Poem by Adeosun Olamide

You heartless humiliator
That mocks me whilst I plan
Yes you crassly being
Made from disgust of swine
Hear me you callous creature
That idlest betters thy task
Hearken! – In your garlands of dark
Whilst gash ye rotted soul a life
Hearken aye, Hearken! -
This voice that turns to thee-
That hears ye breathe in him shadows!

How so- your horror of life
That treads even in womb-
How so- thy brace even seeds
O that demon seem angel by thy side
So deformity bestowed is made in thee
That runs thee madly here- there!
Thy knows- you are least the evils
Yet higher than all- in thy kindling senseless
See- that to ye abode the spineless comes
That thy blaze should hide- in cover -shame!

But yet you heartless humiliator
That mocks me whilst I plan
For ye covet- whichever soul that lurks!
And mine that don’t you dwell upon-
That O death- I fear- thee and for thee
Thee- that- I am rendered to thy aim
For thee- that soon your purpose ends
And in pages villains art!
For thee- my fear hangs yet-
That seed thorns held shall pricks ye fore
Then- I shall- O death be your mocker
For from earth- I shall aid a rising tree
Or better a striving bug with my rotten
And perhaps if ashes
O then death- I shall be a living
Settled across the ecstasy of ocean-
Dwelling in breathe the living
And you! - forever I shall mock-
While I abide on- in other forms!