The mirror
My reign shall never run forth.
My story shall never get lost.
My dreams shall never die .
My ambition will go high and higher.
The dreams of a minor
Sounds lighter
But it keeps oozing
And owling
Like a lost falcon.
It owl and owl until
The quest I remit
Ferry my name from dust to dawn.
My seeds shall grow in your
Garden with your weeds.
I shall eats in your table
With your special obesity children.
The words I spit shall rains
In your intellectual brains
Until it finds a theme to match it.
My dreams and themes shall share home
Of archive with legendary
History of your ancestors.
The song I sing in parade
Shall nurse your wounded heart,
Broken hope and lost,
Dreams and ambitions.
My wisdom shall nurture your
Amateurs, young celebrities,
Philosophers and idealist.
The dogs of politicians and the animals
Of politics, don't desturb me,
Or rape me like you rape the nation and its defenders.
Wait for me to laten
Because very soon I will kick my mothers womb
And grow to a man of virtue.
Then your stick shall never shoot me.
Your bullet will not pierce through
My protesting heart.
. ..birthday poem for 24th birthday of ocen micheal
My story shall never get lost.
My dreams shall never die .
My ambition will go high and higher.
The dreams of a minor
Sounds lighter
But it keeps oozing
And owling
Like a lost falcon.
It owl and owl until
The quest I remit
Ferry my name from dust to dawn.
My seeds shall grow in your
Garden with your weeds.
I shall eats in your table
With your special obesity children.
The words I spit shall rains
In your intellectual brains
Until it finds a theme to match it.
My dreams and themes shall share home
Of archive with legendary
History of your ancestors.
The song I sing in parade
Shall nurse your wounded heart,
Broken hope and lost,
Dreams and ambitions.
My wisdom shall nurture your
Amateurs, young celebrities,
Philosophers and idealist.
The dogs of politicians and the animals
Of politics, don't desturb me,
Or rape me like you rape the nation and its defenders.
Wait for me to laten
Because very soon I will kick my mothers womb
And grow to a man of virtue.
Then your stick shall never shoot me.
Your bullet will not pierce through
My protesting heart.
. ..birthday poem for 24th birthday of ocen micheal
2018ocenmicheal@theshaowwordsafrica-poetry

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