Unrest Soul: A Perfect world Poem by Vincent Onyeche

Imagine a faultless world
All Titans no odds
Ugly is a lost word
No rural but urban well-born

All hairs are auburn and
Braided bun not bunches
All men are heir apparent
And women heiress

Equality to fat thumb and little finger
Everyone are masters no follower
All that breathe are dictators and sinew
Anew would love the imagination to continue…

Reality is to castle built on air
Ceasing distress, recklessness are walled
No free space for magma to work
Nor crawl if snoozing volcano arouse

Bated, all matters shall turn wombat and kangaroo
Armed, in their pouch they shall protect their kindred
No striving, please be ready to starve to death

I forgot,
Trees shall grow tall
And fail to fall
A perfect world
What a war…

A world life would ask of
Where privilege would be thankful
To God
Him we shall see not his rod,

A world where a father sins
Shall be to him alone, yes 'tis his
Why curse his seeds?
A world where righteousness shouldn't attract a Job

Assorted and unique, time would be haggis
Rain and sun shall shower
To flourish-Day-and-night shunning all hitch
Do God want this mild dish?

Science, technology, biblical and fetish
So many parish hands spoil the dish
Frankfurter, Weeny-weenie out of the perfect world
What a war…