Hang The Hangman, a poem by Ikechukwu Obiorah at Spilwords.com
M Ashraful Alam

Hang The Hangman

Hang The Hangman

written by: Ikechukwu Obiorah



You’re busy moving all your muscles,
Chesting the ball down on the rebound,
To hammer the crossbar with a shot
Like the breeze playing ball in the lea,
Yet the root of the world inside you
Is falling to pieces as slick as whistle.

The owls are hooting in the almond trees
Of your bones and turtle doves building
Nest with the black grasses on your head,
There are bags of troubles in your bones,
Don’t just allow the hangman kicking the
World from under you to ruin your world.

The hellion of the world inside you needs
The astringency of your tainted muscles,
You can make a wolf whistle to confront the
Spirit of your succubus and open his veins,
If really you have a believed abstraction that
There is a brawn in the finger of your fork.

Look at the bowel of time and pump energy
Into the tube of your powerhouse within,
Something has gone wrong with the oxygen
Of your humanity, but you can still become the sun,
Don’t continue to be in a coal mine of doubt with
A face covered in black, hang the hangman now!

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