Meshack Dasco

Many abusers of it will pay
Without apology.
If you think it is cheep give it
Without negotiation.
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Only to trust God with our faith
Only that is what might be needed to see
when the spell of darkness falls
Like the gurara waterfall.
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verily the seed of evil has been sown
with its sad sunken eyes all opened
but such a great seed of evil who can kill?
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This sonnet never w's it created to woo a maid
But to let out the shame of lust and how it's paid.
How great and small fall under its spell nev'r to rise!
And as the urge to do and be done rise - so the price.
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Be gone, fury and fear:
Life has much to offer.
Halt, thou tempest! an anchor I bear -
As God lives -yielded I to His order.
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Nebucchadnezer never was wise till he became a beast -
A beast God made of his folly to chastise his boast.
His heart never was God seen till exile broke his stiffness to dusts-
&
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To take care of thy very heart how difficult it is!
yet twist-and-thrust thy heart seems for a bond.

To be bonded to a woman thy empty belly rumbles after.
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heart could be so heavy
especially when it's filled
with stormy wave of life's tides.
I wasn't sure of the scale
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The eye that sees via a lens
Even sees not well when the brain is tensed:
What‘s the gain of seeing via eyes that are densed?
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No pain is as squeezing as their sores:
That spread all over their cores.
Yet they multiply more and more,
As if their sores are free of pain and spore.
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Traveling and
Meditating as I look out of the window, and
I saw nothing but a light-ball Walking like a snail unharm
Down to its big store.
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When I feel like respite has greeted
My soul,
Wave like a roaring lion greeted
My soul.
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Heart becomes hot in all
When I imagined them all
My liver weep the gall
And no one
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Give me your heart of flesh
And It shall learn discretion;
If only you can give it to me wholly,
Thou shall see how free
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If you do not love me,
I say,
If you chose to love me not,
Just dare to remain idle
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when I was lost in the sea of thoughts
I was only chewing the cuds of Aremu‘s words
which kept on ringing in my hollows
like the tingling of a cymbal in deep-night
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never was he a wrestler
but he fought well with his heart
until he yelled his pain:
yea! my hip's been pulled out apart
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What did you see:
A grey-haired seer?
A time-worn looking grandpa?
A founder of what all 'raws' called cultism?
...

while thinking loud on a metaphor
that best fits the word -selfishness -
cancer fits.
...