Desires screeching and skidding before my tongue,
Blood is food; abound in my poetic incantations.
Leviathan misery on the faces of savages,
Roaming in telepathic hallways, holding axes.
Wanton shrills and screams defile the serene aura,
Oh the shame! The shame of inconsistent wailing,
The rhythmical bending of tones – How? Hallelujah!
The swollen lips castigating muses presence,
Arrgh! The deserted village – sweet agonies!
Casket shapers smiling, begging for more,
Their skills emanating along the Behistun corridors,
The epitaph, solemnly Solomon’s calligraphy.
“Shed me the wrong,” Medusa shouts in howling sounds.
My adamantine friend – the orgasmic death.
Rains, peddles and subjects his wishes in unadulteration.
Stop me! The expansive grave, melancholic on my absence.
Hubris deviated and my chin boundless,
Cerberus sight, zoom me home – a practical joke!
Chronic shadows echo insurmountable laughs,
rotten grunts; my tongue sets the divine altar.
Deviated answers; my crude justice – nonchalant.

Prudential trumpets serenading the sacrifice,
the cryptic smiles from pandemonium.
Retarted slangs “Witch – pen who the obituary.”
My surgical aura scything on loins and poles,
Mortification, hold on – morgues beam in anticipation.
Sweeping rogues on wheelchairs, head drooled,
swathing autopsies, Oh the clarion call – spare me!
The gist, sickening griots; hullabaloo.
Jumbled processes, veins rapture on my twist,
Antiseptic blood cleans my soul – an elegiac vagrant.
Writing holy sonnets in epitaphic signs
Go down – sink deeper, the ropes must be left.
Scalpel massages, the tongue cleans it all,
My gothic attitude alleviates my thinking.
Granting guide stones upon me Oh Georgia….
Hearken conundrum! My Babylonian tower,
Sit me upon the pyramids apex and recite the rosary.
Vanity aloft in calculus, to Zenith – solve. Death!
Who? Me! Blasphemy, hypocrisy, superiority,
my ghoul nature, this time with God’s pen,
Initiate my Biblical meekness – Yelp me!

My heart safe in Scylla caves breathe me, pure –
Kit Mikayi, weep me not, my conscious. Friend
Raindrops dig not a grave for me – the ants! The ants!
Gloomy neighbors, fire crackling, still reminiscing on life,
Lips smudges, my volcanic fragrance,
Washes the misty morning – fixing unhandled sutures.
Thinking, stringing cellos – Oh the melody,
Still pleading my plight, why taste my own blood?
My gigantic lycan test – the sun’s dominance,
my eulogy; a vampirical beast,
and upon my tombstone – ad infinitum, ever present!
Golgotha treading, skulls scampering on my sight,
but upon the Holy cross, nail me!
From now to zenith, cleanse me!
Hey Alpha and Omega, hades not my home.
Owl soups strangle me, hold me!
Remove me! Remove me! Untie the blindfold
Oh the divinical call, Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!
Grant me the palatial home of the nightingale,
Sweep me to high heavens – make me pure.
Holding the promise, yours Oh Lord! Rescue me.

© Eddy Ongili 2013


4 thoughts on “A DIRGE

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