a thought of my mind


hill angel west

to the ill angel west
of the immaginary coast
i write from evil desk
to tell you with no boast

that the world evil
is coloured than crimson
looks like the devil
uneven as stetson

though the water looks lipid
but the taste is of blood
though the sound peals lucid
there is quescence like churchyard

its really our evil that made this so.




Poetry by Fawole Babafemi
Read 572 times
Written on 2006-11-18 at 09:30

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