Naija Poetry

Matthias Pantaleon

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Matthias Pantaleon

Saturday 18 April 2020

Glory

Holy don't live here no more

These days they desecrate temples

With unholy verses like the other room and python dance

If glory were to be human

She did wear burnt cologne like our priest

If it wasn't for heights

Plain lands won't feel so low

Got awkward feet; the miles ahead seem weird

Nothing wages power in this changing time like rolling dice

I keep telling you to seize the moment

Because yesteryears beget stillborn

This is for the passing years

The time when we had nothing to fight for

These days the sun sinks faster

We backbite; twice as swift

Lets not talk about the crown

Sometimes we crawl in anticipation of fear

I ate mine for lack of bread

Kept the Bible close because some pages cannot be ripped

We cannot build castles on our own graves

Or tell bedtime stories with grief-stricken tongues

Truth told in haste is short-lived

Whereas lies are tailored to outlive time

You are the shrine that housed idols

I, for one, dislike paganism

Thus, the opening passage that refused editing

I am like an epilogue without full stop

Simple diction, singular tense, single line space

The tulips that must grow well

Must first be well

I drank wellness to the brim

Problem is, there is none I can think of

Except the life that I now lead

Here is to the glory we never had

It takes round peg to fit into round holes

We are like cone and pentagon forced into a square hole

And this mess, is what we make out of our miserable lives

But, I refused to be mistaken for garbage

Thus, I went west

Led by North Star

To eke a living out of plenty

You stayed behind

Perhaps to reply the letters I never wrote

How could I have written you

With all those distractions and ghosts from your quarters

It takes four feet to crawl and two to walk

I neither crawled on broken limbs nor walked on tired heels

This is what we make of life

Lets not talk of thrones

Some kingdoms are not of this world

I run with horsemen for lack of unicorn

As God is my strength, I overstretched the gap

Heard you became a rain maker for lack of dreams

Well, night rain cant put out my flames

You may want to go back to the drawing board

We are never too old for white chalk and blackboard

Except that time makes the heart of the wicked dark to new lights

In the same vain you set fire to my repository

You should know that some inks stain beyond the surface

And no matter what happen to my grades

I will not repeat this class with a broken slate

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Glory

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