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We need to talk on masculinity. Wouldn't you agree ?

ICE CUBE

The pear tree at the children’s center park
Now isolated, its roots pulled from the playing ground.
The contractors had come from its back
Escorted by a barking hound.

This sudden attack weakened the tree,
Making its green leaves fall to the ground; all yellow,
To brown at ones and blown to the east sea.
By the side watched its only helpless fellow.

“Pain could never be shared,” He whispered,
“I know you would love to share mine.”
A tractor dragged Him along; Squatted.
Of course He was gone, but He thought He was fine.

At its peak nested hard beak woodpeckers,
Stubborn as hell to leave like the backing dog;
Together they went into a factory of blockers.
Trapped, He was pushed like a swiped bug

Into an Ice cube. Is that a dwelling place?
Fitted as planned, constructed for the dark.
Shaking branches. The woodpeckers knocking with no space
In other to create a crack to warm their back.

Was this to preserve Him; with peckers printing paint
Embroidered forcefully? Oh drummer boy!
All He wished for was a second to faint
But now, He was stocked in an Ice cube foy .

Dirge to Hephzibah Frank

Gomb Gomb Gomb Gomb
Has gone the traditional iron gong
Played by bleeding hands and stick comb
And sour throats from lost voices song.

Locked up in a burden box of strings.
Broken visions r***d by natural feelings.
When the box strings open, so
Revealing the point where broken hearts go.

Eyelids laden with dew now dim,
Darkling resourceful lips has gone mute.
Apart, leading to her departing mind cease to swim,
Gone is that phoenix heart which was cute.

No longer an inhabitant of air,
Paused are all songs surrounding her ear.
Going beneath the red mother, I watched
Leaving me with a wounded scene to behold.

This thoughtful ache still remains,
Gone to join zillion of souls in accumulation,
Bleading memories my heart retains.
Adieu, belle Choi, sleep on my companion.

U2017 set of NASEL Uniport



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God's Vacation.

Could he really go on a trip
To a kingdom higher or lower than heaven?
A flip clap or a quick zoom flap.
A section classified as deafen.

For prayers unanswered,
Cries wasted and unheard,
Iniquities blinking flash,
Offerings of pleasant trash.

It calls, oh!, Its sweet call.
I am an elite of this rill
A Carrier of this hunch
On it I feed four, including brunch.

My melodies are silent
Dreadful cunning thoughts wonder.
My conscience trapped in sins corner
Forgetting my skipped lent

This has caused his silence
Yet I brag of a clean redemption
While I live in sin camp detention
Which has caused God's Vacation.

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