Poetry: Nobody Woke Us Up!!

 In my room there’s a village. It has trees that are as old as my King, rivers as wide as the legs of Ashanwe the prostitute. I can tell you of the hut that doesn’t look like it is having a good conversation with the ground. There was something about its people. They looked asleep.

Whenever the moon spoke was when you knew it was night. Chickens told the mornings tales of how many snakes found a warm holes.

Then came a day the creator came to visit
he brought the strong winds of the sea, farted so loud, they thought of a thunder. While trying to light his cigar they saw lightning. He saw the fear brew in their sleep, and left with laughter.
In the future, children spoke of the parchment scroll that had the color of the ground, it had little scribbling on it but no one could read like the creator. So it has been for years to come that on the day of fireworks in the sky, nobody was awake when the night dropped a seed, an artifact, a book about us. A book by the painter.

Ruddapoet