Songs Of Nakedness Poem by Nichola Okoro

In nightmares you’re an insignia of omen
As the child astride modernism, you‘re sophistication
To the censure of morals, you’re so obscene
Not even hypocrisy could feel guilty any more
The age of hypocrisy makes you her adversary
But there are native lands with no cloaks
March on this land which ostracises you
You become relative as age intervenes
Some would always solicit for you
II
On your arrival nudity was holy
Your departure the earth’s occupants furnished you
Except this follows you as you cease
This song of nakedness
You’re an encryption to the ages
The dogma sees this stench
That one instinct, the rightful heir
Shall interpret this will