The Unscathed Scroll Poem by Adeosun Olamide

By touch dream
Be born new
Us is over
Nude should keep
As find door

That finds still?
Brothel Christ essence
A drunk and sinners
Mingle with wenches
The way to save

There is soul-
-A seed sin?
But me messiah
Thens over
Amble from, Jesabelle

A widow prospect
Christ met you
Shall meet still
If die be done
The child, fruit sin


Burden a sin
This my cross
A fruit sin
Not my essence
Denial signals

Deed crawls
Lingers good
And worse came
Historians gather
Coins wells


Decade fade
No solemn a child
Nor whimpers heard
Yet cells count
And womb thrives

Jesabelle may call
Perhaps love still-
And spare fruit sin
Christ, her love
Shall ferret the thrown


In meadows dwelling
Her grave acquaint
Where fruit sin lie
A suicide did
Due no father

Now 30
I am born a new
Us is over
Gods voice rings
A final baptism