MASSES, Poetry by Victor O. Sawyerr

Genre: Politics, Treachery, Power.

MASSES
by Victor O. Sawyerr

1
Single, lonesome, emaciated,
cachexic ribs flesh out the remains
of my marasmic body.

2
My brain designs parody.
The veins of my skull
form rivulets of blood
that course their way
from the depths of my sockets,
drilled from the innermost corners
of its waterbed
and overflowing
the basins of its lachrymal ducts.

3
Weary of my journey,
a thousand miles
neither here nor there,
with a body bereft of its juices,
I rest on the robust bark
[naked, yes very stark]
of an ageless Iroko1
which,
untouched by my spiritless look,
continued
basking in all its glory,
coloured by the glittering shimmers
cascading from the orange skies.

4
A moment:.
It threw
a disdained glance
at my wretched corpus
while I,
sampling the last drops
of unprofaned Ogogoro2
from my near-dry calabash
shifted weights
from my pencil-thin left fibula