The Poet Died By Suicide – Written by Membis Okorie Chukwukamma
He was at the edge and he knew it
nothing else to live for
so he drank it
a bottle of sniper mixed then a juice
if he must die
it wouldn’t be all sour
too many things he can’t explain
broken heart he can not fix
it was a journey he had to embark
deep down he smiled
he made his mark
dark smoke all over the cloud
dimming stars and disappearing rainbows
he had had enough and no more can hold
unto life like caterpillar on a tree
the suicide of a poet
whose whispers were melodies in chords
and desire for a new world
he was the change that had to change form
so he change from green to pale
like leaves in harmattan
had a girl who deeply he loved
ashamed to look into the eyes that makes him proud
he was heading to his end
he knew it, so he tried to give it all out
and die empty
he is not to be mourned, he was a fine poet
he died by his hands smiling with tears
and when people did mock his ghost
he scared them like hell in darkness
the sun knows not how to shine
he made his spark to glitter brighter
didn’t have the best of life
but was the envy of a thousand souls
died for whom he should live for
and buried with wet pieces of poetry
The End.
© Membis Okorie Chukwukamma
Connect with Membis Okorie Chukwukamma on all Social Platform via @Gurldvibes
CHRISTMAS FLOWERS
You know it’s heaven or way beyond
when you give me some dirty stunts
with a sip of intoxicating juice from your lips
a mixture of love and affection deep
served in my most insane state of mind
when nothing but your body counts
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