Over the plague
On the corridor of exodus
I see the muse
On trial of fuse
And all for upfront capture

Muse muses to we
The niftiness of the whorl
In the municipal of fingers
On certitude of cathedra
And all for maxilla of truth

Muse musics not
Lack of hap
But like of kismet
For the whopping star
In the immense sky

With grander forth and forth
Muse lasso the moon
All to triumph the
Molecule of uproar
Crypted in oceanbrin

Of blurry pellucid virtue king-doom.


Folders, Files and Letters.

Rolls of all 365 dawns
Umpteen of gowns on the streets
Many legs in trousers
With folders and files
In search of distributed seats

And you blame heads who
Beg for nairas and papers
With guns and human-knappin’ gown
Blame the fat shadows
That sings ‘freely I have’