To The Pagan Gods Poem by Joshua Adeyemi

They'll tell you what they can't do,
They'll give you what they don't have-
borrowed jewel from a wretched potter:
Drunk with penury, drown in poverty.
'I'll give you diverse gift', they'll say:
It's better to go on your kneels and pray.
Than to get a token of misery,
bewitched with foggeries and fallacy,
Like a powder blown by the jealous wind-
Who couldn't attract pleasant physiognomy.

They are:

Plate of delicacies embroided with offensive odour,
Arranged to serve the 'seekers'-
Grinding their faith, polluting their conscience.
Ascribed, even set on their table-
Not to feed but to get rid of their freedom.

Graced with deception, they troop after the delicacies,
Over hunger they want to have their seat.
Death then takes them captive-even eternal death.

Pagan gods aren't gods,
Not objects,
Not Moulded,
But crafted,
Even sitted,
In the heart-
That thing that takes more of your attention.
17: 19: 17: 17: 50