Musa loved Obi.
His fantasy garden was planted by Obi.
They were a pair of eyes that blinked together.
They sang songs of forever.
Musa was the hibiscus in Obi’s childhood dreams.
He was the pink rose that ripples with beams.
They lived in a secret musical garden.
The joy they knew may not be found in Eden.
Then time built years;
And years beckoned on society’s demand of tears.
Musa married Mary.
While his bond with Obi was not yet weary.
Henceforth he breathed with one nostril.
A life of no thrill.
Mary was the wife of demand.
She was the obedience to a standing command.
She was society’s only way to Paradise.
A man’s name must never be thrown like a dice;
So a man needs sons;
Sons that must have sons.
The circle must never break;
Despite the many sons it will break.
Mary’s bosom was like a pot of soured soup;
The stinks repelled Musa and he was unable to supp.
But thanks to Viagra that he swallowed in high doses;
It made him sport on her as his numbed eyes closes.
Musa had sons without love;
Grave stones, name keepers that do not move.
Musa was a secret in his Household.
Obi still held his heart like a stronghold.
Musa had him in his nightly prayers.
His loneliness grew in rapid layers.
His heart wailed but he silenced it to a hush.
His face was dark and graceless like a burnt bush.
His mask became his life.
He was broken and Mary was a sad wife
©Felix Kalu 2017.Have something to share? Ready to tell your story? Contact us.