Writuer

  Serpents of lust Never in love. Eat their words And you hang in the sword Their sarcastic grin,  A shrouded act of the mind. Deeds are staged Acts are faked. The face that beams at your glance, Bears the tongue that defiles your ranks.  Get caught in their feat of deceitful symphony And you inscribe the epitaph of your melancholy.  Humans, yes humans! The harbinger of the devil The trustee of his evil.  Patrick Ekong ©️

The tax master With a big mantra A collector of sweat dipped in bl00d A clothe of misery stained and clots.  He collects with no remorse Mining without a refund, His debtors' wept As the tax master sleeps.  They toil to death While he grin at their sweat Cartoonist - Mike Asukwo Patrick Ekong ©️

In the farm band , Mr Fox holds his title so dear. He will rather sacrifice the peaceful coexistence of the Pink Head Farm for a title ceremony in his honour. The farm infrastructures were decaying and even his closes allies were worn out but Mr Fox pays no heed but to his titles.  In the sunset 🌇  behind the farmhouse, he had assembled pigeons and hares to demand that they made him the lord of the farm even when he was so hated by all animals on the farm. Mr Chameleon, his long-time friend once recounted how Mr Fox swore never to let any other animal on the farm stead milk the cows even when such an act was to the development of the farmhouse. Years as an administrator of the farm, older animals on the farm had tales of how Mr Fox's numerous titles hold no importance to the farm as no animal has been tutored by Mr Fox to become an independent animal on the Pink Head farm but yet Mr Fox will wax his tail at every opportunity to milk the cows or count the eggs. To be continued...

  I walked to dad after my graduation ceremony. I couldn't let my joy of finishing High School consume my dream of becoming the youngest Aeronautic Engineer. This has always been my dream.  What really ignite my dream was the mystery behind the movement  of heavy metals in the air when I was young. I really wanted to unravel this mystery. It has always been my dream ever since my old man coloured my ever yearning idea of becoming an aeronautic engineer. He had told me that I could travel to any part of the world, meet with people of diverse races as an aeronautic engineer. "Dad! My graduation party is over and you promised me that if I should make good grades in my high school, you were going to secure admission into the university of my choice to study aeronautic engineering."  Dad... What next? I asked inquisitively. My dad, a kind hearted man who always wanted me to have a go at what ever that will make me happy, smiled and said,  "Son. You know I will always...

  The recital of Hades scared the earth. Its uncertainty froze the soul. Dark, dusty the path to this chanciness we bemoaned. Doomed, the wake of death, A mysteriously strange it felt. The noise of the numberless, In their countless Eerie, strange but gloomy. What an untold journey of a living mortal that detached the being from the grips of her soul. Hades walk, a long walk, and may we never walk till old age.

With a protruding sac, For procreation's sake. I am a mother. the sacred temple of life, A window to mortals' trip on earth. I am a mother. With a swollen sack of semen, pains gained in the ninth month. I am a mother. The laps that carry Kings A sofa for my offspring. I am a mother. Whose love never waned, Even when they go insane. I am a mother. The belly that bore our Lord The teat that fed our Christ. I am a mother. Whose raiment's edge you lean, To take your first shaky cruise like a lame. I am a mother. A heart that pounced at your cry, A sleepless night to dab the teary eyes. I am a mother. Whose happy ending reclined in the success of my progeny.