Jolomi Amuka (Lagos)
Curse Of The Black Gold
Betwixt the firmament, and light's unerring speed;
Eros cries foul.
His quiver quivering
As greed mocks his valiant attempts with a rebarbative roar.
Broken slings, misplaced stings, lost wars-
And former triumphs becoming mere shadows of what once was.
The curse of the black gold,
The magical straw with an unending hole;
Nostrils flare wide, eyes bleeding red-
With an impeccable lust for domination.
Poisoned by familiar blood,
Bled by the enemy's son.
Now his head, a bountiful bounty,
Should someday a favor be required.
Foreign bells are ringing.
An alien hand has dealt,
A bluff? Not yet. But maybe.
Hence, my invitation to you; watch and see.
Comments about this poem (Curse Of The Black Gold by Jolomi Amuka )
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