Scolding Miracles Poem by Lihle Shezi

Scolding miracles;
Faith on the march
Surreptitiously.
O' my covetous pens and earth.
Can a mortal man
Hoist it from the pit of death?
A drunk man said;
'Hocus-pocus my young lad.'
Was she not in
Possession of eternity?
Bob Kaufman said she was;
And was married to the
Syncompation of Jazz amenity.
They 'slam Jam' her into
A coma.
And made the grave of Shelley
Her resting place, a home.
Poetry is Dead;
Poetry is Dead.

Would not corpus(pora) of dead
Poets grief
Upon their afterlife belief?
And may be speak with her
That my heart will be a final eyrie.
That melancholia verbs
Will facade for her pyre.
Odious to anthologist who
Cuddle her fossils.
For, the future generation
Might disagree on her 'Once
Upon time'.
That she was once celebrated
In William Shakespear plays.
Where the whole play
Was a punchline.

Thought before i grave
I would see God kissing your
Forehead, but a sashay is a sashay.
Elysum is only a spark away.
Please tell your children to flower
me upon your grave
as a gift of an afterlife bliss
each time you smell my body
soaked in a solidified myrrh.
If only moaning birds could
bring you back to life
because it is a strife to wife
a dead child.