I'm an abstract being
Made flesh on the lips of men
Where my whole beign is music sent on errands
With the strings of guitars
And the keys of pianos, playing solo
Into the ears of the night.
My body is the song you sang off key
A pitch scaled in pain
A song for you/for everyone/for no one.
My body is a requiem sang at gravesides
Where I'm butchered into bits of scary tones.
I lose my left leg to the choir of aged women
Who sing graveyard as glave lad,
And to kids who dice my tummy into
...Oga adiri gi mma
Yaba yan nne kwa...
I am survived by the family & friends
Whose lips sang me like serenade
As though to entice heaven into accepting a soul.
Am I to accompany the dead beyond?
& hope when gone they don't think me dead?
I am but a messenger in songs for the dead.
I'm a liquid being fleshed into music
On the lips of lovers to their would be love
I meet hearts baked with heartbreak &
Hearts held like cobwebs above fire.
Hearts trashed with all freshness in the bins of playboys &
Hearts deflated between the boots of my hoods Cr7
Yet i see these hearts drying /dying /applying
For true (new) love behind the fence of pride.
On this errand I give my all
In them is my real essence felt. Love.
