Fumes of the Grave
Down the aisle of nowheredanger strolls in red
belligerent pulsating forest
pregnant with rapacious tendency
and raped morality
Benevolent escapist
trapped in temperamental prison
willful reluctant endorsement
to be in Ephesus
here where the flickering flame at dusk
caressed by wind of unchangeable changes
Body riddled by seven holes
numbered keys
for the opened closed gate
of a night,a night
the Sun ought to rise
Poetry by chuma okafor
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Written on 2009-06-15 at 10:46
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