For clout

For cloud

For clap

For class

And cash

They clash

And crash

And slash

And slap

And cut

And bleed

And blab

And block.

For bread

They break

And wound

And kill

And steal

And mock

The poor

And smash

The gate

Of fate

With Faith

That’s fake.

For jobs,

They lie

And plot

And cheat

And hurt

And blame

And game

And bite

And mock

And cut

The man

Of truth.

They failed

And fell

And gripped

With guilt

The heels

Of him

That’s faint

And weak,

This week,

With wigs

So thick

On heads

Of ticks.

With tricks

From hell

They cheer 🥂

Their deer,

A dear

In pain

The life

In vain.

The hall

In all

Is hauled

By calls

Of owls

That crawl

At night

With beaks

Like swords

To hunt

Tall boys

With balls

In fields.

The ball

That boils

Like eggs

In pots

Of porks

Is boxed

By boys

In fields

Of play.

They pray

Like preys

In bush

Of hell

But God

Is sick

Of dogs

In sin.

In times

Like these

When poems

Are scarce,

To write

In twos

Is peace

Of mind.

©Eyoh Etim, 2023

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