Where The Fault Lies Poem by Haruna Garba

You wouldn't have known
If the blend had remained un-sifted

You wouldn't have known day or night
Or what tonight had come in to focus
In the great Akasha

There's Old Adam still green-lipped
Right below the old sol
And the crook-ribbed with nipples
Suckling her manifolding lots
Abel rose
Then Cain fell
And the Sculptor planted pity
After the great flood

So the remaining glow receded
Only flickers twixt heaven and earth
Which as they functioned
So did those behind the breasts
Didn't the host denounce preference
Over the former house of bondage?

Man, your are such a user
That meddles bereft of knowhow
Self-medicating adversely
Now you lie at the surgeon's mercy

Now deranging your appliance
It only flickers effecting no motion at all
Thus arousing the meander's countenance

Brother!
The fault lies in the fruit
Fruit mothering all sensuality
Rooted in our faulty soul