Iwuagwu Ikechukwu
Shackles
The boulevard of all mortals herein
These prancing soles kissed; clad in agility
For a score, quadruple times perhaps –
Our wishes wrestle with que sera, sera
My cranium enshrouds a debate, of the anvil and hammer – ad infinitum, a dance of life’s
intricacies. Grotesque its entrails,
pretty, its robe. The mind licks the vast boulevard in feline prances.
muffle those myopic lids for this distant tour…
A decade,
The breath is a decaying cotyledon, wrestling mother earth’s rind. Chimney puffing curiosity and
vigour. Paradise is hell to these souls
A score,
Exuberance escapes active pores, sexual tension to tame like ibexes on heat. Juxtapositions of
varying degrees prostrate for discernment. Unchained a little. Sneak peek at freedom, slavery to
religious, ethnic, tribal and societal dictates – initiation
Two scores and five,
A dire desire, flaming up a charted path to turn the hands of time, maybe. Lores descend like
concentrates. Expectations mount the apex like snipers – of nuptial, of loin fruits, of stability. The
flame transforms against the sunrise and sunset into palls of ash.
Three scores and a decade,
Regrets wrestle reality. Responsibilities had ridden and worn out the rear like medieval knights,
yoked to a tryst to reputation unending. The epilogue draws nigh from the horizon. The curtain
could be drawn …
Four scores and ten,
Biceps enfeebled, freedom is slavery, the reaper – an aide, set to take a swipe following fate’s
flimsy fantasy. Life, like Iyaz’ replay becomes a montâge; oil on canvas…