Skip to main content

How To Sound Philosophical | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu


POEM 202: HOW TO SOUND PHILOSOPHICAL
This is how to sound philosophical,

sit behind a stack of holy books
and smoke shisha

pick alif hamzat wasil Iām shadda dagger alif hā
and cajole Yahweh to stifle a laugh
while unlocking Da Vinci's code.

throw a jab at Buddha
and giggle as Baal chuckle at the nudity
of hijab gypsies relying on broken tafsir
inscribed in Nsibidi

make nonsense of legends and demystify myths
maybe with conspiracy theories only clowns decipher

sing Yeshua to sleep on the laps of Magdalene
and feed the Medina man a lump of swine.

drag Baphometh by the horns
into a pool of the Messiah's blood
and feign delight as he swims away
chanting 'Beyo! Beyon! Beyonce is...' trails off

place 6 and 6 beside a 9
a threesome for the Antichrist

and when you're done confusing mankind
sip some coffee and pen these down:

beliefs can change worlds
change lives
but it can also make us blind

love can bond worlds
crush walls
but it can also shatter hearts

truth can save us
build trust
but it can also crush us

in all, it's our decisions that is life
that is true religion
that is god.

now dress in white and go to sleep
angels like you make heaven hell

Finally, this is how to sound philosophical
it's okay if you don't understand.


#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA



Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.  "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies"  "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"  After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"  "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

The Curve And Colors Of Hate | Uwen Precious Ogban

The Curve And Colors Of Hate When the evening news had broken Father spoke with a tone of pain and anger “Nigeria is a whore,” And my mother agreed Painting sensual scenes giving you pleasure of what looks like a garden that hides a landmine. And how trying to walk through it becomes slippery A journey asking for crimson libations, full of fractures and ‘Had I knowns’ while you looked over the fence for greener  pastures Her sighs spoke of a menu full of thrills but you are served double horrors She, Nigeria, abhors you later on when it relinquishes you of value, Truly, she is an old ‘Whore’ My Father picked it from there, “Nigeria gets hard as rock” Wants of men despised Sullen moods recorded in poems, speeches, and events, snubbed For as long as it makes sultry suplex’s on a comfortable ring – Nigeria is satisfied “Son, Nigeria is you, your mum and I” Guilty to a fault Pained by happenings that come with fire and brimstone Let loose from bellies that should hold  patriotis...

Featured Poem: Slavery In Africa - by Uwen Precious Ogban

SLAVERY IN AFRICA We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region; carrying with them bags of conundrums, while we drummed our drums and jollied to their, intonation. The way they dressed, the way they addressed us Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale: that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa. We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals While we were mockingly disposed of In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends; as helps; in servitude; ‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks. We became babies in our own motherland we became cartage of their foreign plans. We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs. Their wisdom their prowess They used to molest And we gazed in cluelessness Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain, so enjoyable....