Haunting
a few things music in me: memories
quagmiring into murk, silence, wildfire,
embered dreams, empty shores and the debris
of prayers that caught the wind of God
-’s breath that won’t cure a ghost, because,
unlike the crucifix, there isn’t a confluence
with God’s wands of omniscience. one thing
I’ve learnt is, unlike boys with abstract banes,
mine is concrete and lives in me. burns and
churns me into poems, poems push me
towards the edge of my body where I try
to lull a cremation to sleep. To not run
is to become brimstones, to run in fear
is to get lost, so some days I camouflage
into the bitsy light this place offers--
metaphorical icicles pour into poems,& I
shut out every sermon on purpose. Say I’m
not the last of my kind in the turbulence
of these kerosened bodies, which is why I wish you
rain as much I wish myself. my memories will
kill me before God does, so there are times
I fall back-first into dreams of litanies and
rum, to nurse the dying daffodils in my
stomach into songs that grow out
of my desiccating body, and become light.
BIO:
Muhammed Olowonjoyin [TPC III] is a member of The Poetic Collective. His poems have been published or forthcoming in Poetry Column-NND, Stanchion, Brittle Paper, Quarter After Eight, The Bitchin' Kitsch, Aôthen Magazine, TSTR, Acropolis Journal, The Decadent Review, and elsewhere. He tweets @APerSe_.
a few things music in me: memories
quagmiring into murk, silence, wildfire,
embered dreams, empty shores and the debris
of prayers that caught the wind of God
-’s breath that won’t cure a ghost, because,
unlike the crucifix, there isn’t a confluence
with God’s wands of omniscience. one thing
I’ve learnt is, unlike boys with abstract banes,
mine is concrete and lives in me. burns and
churns me into poems, poems push me
towards the edge of my body where I try
to lull a cremation to sleep. To not run
is to become brimstones, to run in fear
is to get lost, so some days I camouflage
into the bitsy light this place offers--
metaphorical icicles pour into poems,& I
shut out every sermon on purpose. Say I’m
not the last of my kind in the turbulence
of these kerosened bodies, which is why I wish you
rain as much I wish myself. my memories will
kill me before God does, so there are times
I fall back-first into dreams of litanies and
rum, to nurse the dying daffodils in my
stomach into songs that grow out
of my desiccating body, and become light.
BIO:
Muhammed Olowonjoyin [TPC III] is a member of The Poetic Collective. His poems have been published or forthcoming in Poetry Column-NND, Stanchion, Brittle Paper, Quarter After Eight, The Bitchin' Kitsch, Aôthen Magazine, TSTR, Acropolis Journal, The Decadent Review, and elsewhere. He tweets @APerSe_.
