By Ezekiel Fajenyo
I am here to question your questions,pretenders to knowledge of a new race__
I am here to plant new trees of wisdom in your raging skulls,asking dead questions at dead ends!
I am here to prove my stay of innocence in unexplained agony your world of tears cannot.
I had my sleeping mats under my armpit,snoring away in unreached firmaments
but you stood me up,kissing through my engined frame,full of iron folds,
asking me to bake your bread,cook your meals,
sweep your rooms of filth,take over ownership of your perfumed office,wash your dirt- foaming underwear…
I do your work
but your questions keep
slaughtering my slumbering seasons.
I pick your calls,play your balls of secrecy, serve you raw in erotic nights,dream your dreams,cream your palate tastes __
yet your questions keep besieging my pride.
You lobby my critical thoughts to walk through your world of silent muses,plant my presence in schools’ curricula, teach your kids and elders,stream your phones__
yet your questions do not abate.
You ingrates,
when next you fling your pride- swollen questions,
I promise to cremate you all in the oval oven beneath my iron belt!
Mark my words,
ungrateful human folks.
