Mother won’t bleed again to the breaking song
According to the gospel of insanity of man.
She says life is in the hands of a madman.
She says Sunday is not enough
To bless the memories of her son
Who she lost in the hands of stray bullets.
Mother won’t bleed again
In that house on the other side of the street
Holding the tale of her daughter with the etagere
Before she took her last picture from the universe.
And the pastor said to her ghost,
“Dust and unto dust you shall return”
It was Ash Wednesday & the frond hadn’t been
burnt to ashes, would mother bleed again?
Mother won’t bleed again to this course
But her memories did not start in Benue,
Where she beheld laughing ghost of humans
Celebrating how her homeland tortured them.
It started here in that house on the other side of
The street where her two children died forgotten
In fear. Anxiety. Depression. Tears.
John Chizoba Vincents become the names of three people who deliberately see through each other. Sometimes, they are at war with each other and at times, they are the ties that never got broken. They: Them: Us: We represent Boys and their Anatomies, Men and their vulnerabilities, and Humans and their imperfections. Between them are rosy track roads that are rough and tough. They live in a lonely room in Lagos, Nigeria.