To Sodom I return again,
I build it from its ashes.
And from its tongue of black flame,
I mould its broken bricks.
With a golden fleece of fleeting Memory,
I bring the men with their tiny desires.
I am at Gomorrah, unending the black desire
Locking the angels behind Bars, creating new ones
Among the men in apparel of strange desire.
Love is a fleeting fantasy here; dark desire and Shamed
Conjugal, man man.
Long road though, Sodom is handsomely here.
Always here, never gone, and the angels are
Behind bars. Man owns man here, not there though,
Beyond the sea. But here.
************
Post image by Kerry James Marshall via manufactoriel
About the Author:
Ifeoluwa ‘Dele graduated from the university of Lagos, Nigeria. His poem was published at kin poetry journal. His poems also appeared in “Footmarks: Poems on One Hundred Years of Nigeria’s Nationhood”
Chiziterem November 09, 2015 14:40
This poem is certainly something. It's aim is to intentionally aggravate the audience, and them get them to really think about it and see what the poet is really trying to say. I just stated the obvious there, didn't I? But I have a question- "If I'm reading this poem right, aren't we there already? Like, have we not successfully locked those angels behind bars?" I honestly feel we're at the stage of almost throwing away the key.