OLAITAN HUMBLE -
PA'S DREAM (AMARANTHINE)
I.
On a peaceful night out
whilst I scribbled my thoughts
with a dye-based fluid on a vellum, I
sat on my disquietude
as though I were sitting on a lounge
II.
Mama had surmised I was far away
into the land of Nod or
that I was lost in time amid
my desperate voyage
[ but in truth / I had met the being of my pater's dreams / a spry senile / who wore a pacific mien / I soliloquized, "this really was what pa envisaged" / my eyes failed to wink / at the sight / of pa's promised American Dream // ]
III.
Alas!
The death bell has been rung
on pa's ingress,
& the Grim Reaper
possesses that wider palm
to swiftly cover pop's bright sun radiation
IV.
"what has spurred the
ceaseless mourn yet again? Is it
because of a pause—
a pause to the future?"
V.
Pa's legacy & dreams
coexist like amaranth—
infinite, immortal & unending. His
carcass, moved to a permanent sojourn
had reclined itself with lonesome but
his soul dwells in a world where
everything works in perfect harmony—
utopia //
TO CRAFT A GOD FROM A MATRIX
—After Mortal Kombat
I.
Call me Liu Kang 'cos the Princess is
slowly winning my heart over. Others met
their lovers at a diner, gala or their colleges.
I met my lover in the middle of war—crises
ongoing for centuries. Khans over Khans
failed to restore frith to the realms of man & the
Netherrealm. Outworlders vied among themselves
for eons—strivings without thrivings—seeking
the vials of souls. Cage, my friend, is one lousy
loud mouth who eats his own ears for dinner all night.
II.
Summons came from an Elder God, one of
our own from the land of man. We commenced
the rites by cutting right through our left wrists
to allow our blood drip into heavenly chalices, to sate the
thirst of the gods beyond, to get unclad before the Template;
the heaven-sent plague to complement the strive of man.
TO SAVE A GOD FROM EXTINCTION
pick a palette knife with your right hand & into
your throat it travels nigh
bring out salty fluids from glands that pledged allegiance
& appease the Elder Gods while both of your eyes
bear witness before all white linens stashed variedly
across the table of prejudice abound
& allow for a lie or two
stain these fabrics make a canvas & spread
it to the sky allowing your sixth sense speak
the language of the gods
maybe then theriacs will come forth
Olaitan Humble is a Nigerian poet and pacifist. He won People's Choice Award at Earnest Writes Poetry Prize Awards 2020. His works are featured and/or are forthcoming in Crêpe & Penn, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Giallo Lit, CỌ́N-SCÌÒ, Doubleback Review, The African Writers Review, EroGospel, Boys Are Not Stones Anthology II.