Musa loved Obi
His chest was his ruby.
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 sacred 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 may break.
Mary’s bosom was 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 with a hush
His face was a burnt bush.
His mask became his life
He was broken and Mary was a sad wife.
Written by Felix Kalu