Crimson Script From War Poem by Chibueze Oscar Osuji

'Tis time the aqueous ink turns colour red
Rub xylems from the liquid of the dead:
What colour does it bring?
From that goring spring.
The earth rotates blood throughout the season,
All latitudes have a drop of crimson.
Letters written on broken skin;
On the bare back they are written.


Grand curse for the day the sword met the spear
Grand curse for the night chill'd breath left a dear
Grand curse! grand curse! for all
No one thus seem to small;
Here again the vultures harvest their grains
Dead, the brave got more than what he bargain'd.
Long live cowards that ran away.
Short-liv'd the brave buried this day.


Hermits in their serene world live longer
Warriors in bloodthirst die from war hunger;
Crimson scripts ev'rywhere
Crimson scripts over there.
Telling you the up-rising tales of war
Yelling thus ''War is coming to thy door''
Don't join me in my hiding crypt
I bear the gore of crimson script.