The Whimpered Whisperings Poem by Adeosun Olamide

Descend atop soul sanity mask in madness
From above heaven whose eyes within see
Beyond shores existence laid me
Burying me in ere twain
Gusting world mine to world hers

Up on thoughts, string illusoriness
That separates' from us you
And yet makes special, unique, different' disease
Whereon shame appears to dearest
Nor disappears aloofness

Some trade life worthy not exchange
Which fates gift up on lowly
Fashioning life on path mystery
That rose on desert air rejoice in comparison
The streak life in death

In clamors unknown, made' only my notice
That leaves muttering to yours lips
The bind ye little gods, with power over shoulders weakened
And in clatters picks paleness over beauty
Ignored the within, letting it wither perish


Conflicting thoughts, utterances
Listening fragile, mind busy
Above lamentations eyes blinks
Away freedom from shame, with wings vulnerability
And yet price expensive as sink into clumsy alienation

As trailing moving ants smiles rewinds reminds
Of remains memories, and of its blankness
Leaving in shores unwrapped, uncovered
Leaving not a cord of reasoning
Which, what I with heart half, ripped soul, aging body?
What not if empty not?

Like red rose tossing winds wild, with fragrance lost
Of blooming style, wearied and sucked of blood
Like it, my heart ends
Of trees heartbeat I hear,
Of leaves veins I feel
Towards stars, I see wires
And root neurons

When again the commune of breeze
Or the romantic touch of night sun
Or sight the noon star, the night rainbow
When again, lesser be all afore

Let it the voice heard in the herds bleat
Let it the voice noticed in bees buzzes, in chirping birds
With clouds whispering me before it pours
And road telling where it goes
Night revealing it journeys as day
With love gossiping of coming hatred, disgust
And deeds, of rewards, sows, of harvest
With door telling where it passes
And babies, who they be
Have not you the words spoken?
That still fetters my ankles keep
That still locked between walls I

That I prepare for fallen night,
With garments sleeps I as I journey
For dreams sometimes of mourn, often to merry
If this, mirror held sway as I slumbers lumber.
I the might not of madness but fondness

Trickle, tinkles seconds away flips
As curtains a close draw
With theme, plot, setting absent
For even life mystery webbed reality
Through overgrown state journeys eternal
Beneath wordless voice perceive
The whimpers, whispering souls