a superstitious sinner

one, two ,three, four, five explosives fastened around,

his waist is timing the countdown to doom

as the busyness of the market place drowns its ticking

and three, two, one,blast!

the market now is a store of funeral piles,

unlike the befeating burial of a complete man

so many bodies are headless,having been disjoint

by the anarchy this superstitious sinner creates

one,he thinks he is going to reign in heaven

two,he thinks the soul of the heathen,

shall go straight to the pit where he shall find himself

three,he has taken his very own life,

and shall be damned to the darkest deepest dungeon

— emeka ozurumba, Oct 06, 2008

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: Nigeria , abuja

Favorite Poets: christopher okigbo, wole soyinka, gabriel okara , odiah ofeimun- john keats, p.b shelley

Critiques

Rett

17 years 8 months ago

emeka

Remarkably astute write. Depiction is terrific. These people have been co-erced into believing a falsehood perpetrated by those with a corrupt lust for power. They violate every tenet of their religion to destroy the innocent in the hope of destroying a few. Life no longer means anything to them and their belief has become a religion of death and corruption. Isn't it odd that the zealot who perpetrate this madness of the Dark one himself are never the ones to carry out the destruction they so crave? Very well said and a very good write! Respectfully, Rett: "We can all be thankful that Picasso wasn't a plastic surgeon." Rett