The Golden Garden Egg Lane Poem by Simpa Omoluabi

Slaughter at the golden garden egg lane
Ignites the dark flavor that is dormant
Miserably in a tune rising descant
Played to matronly minds going insane
Amid a counterpoint losing focus
Ostensibly with a black rain chorus
Moving stuck-in-the-mud thoughts like a snake
Out of a ghost torn climax comes awake
Looking towards a thorny rose Mary
Unexpectedly burdened to carry
Aromatic commandments to dead ends
Beyond which the days of our lives are weekends
Insuperable with senses of lust
Burning in the blood from cradle to dust

Copyright © The Golden Garden Egg Lane by Simpa Omoluabi