THE DEVIL’S AUTOGRAPH

With a hiss of rhyme, the cobra speaks
In a sole of time, the heart breaks
The door of the mind is closed
As visiting hours becomes late
Ways are out of the road
While weeds creeps on coal tile
The time hates the clock
Each moment is judged by a tick-tock
The oxymoron of life is paradoxical
The values of truth, is ironical

The Lucifer’s signature
A fame less limelight
Hidden by spotlight
On the world stage of play,
Roles tend to be forgotten
Hardship lies in generosity
In giving, hands are lost
Crowded in isolation
In solitude, regret is born
And the infant sleeps in coma

The serpent catwalks the runway
In melody, Rhythms fade away
Sounds buried in drums
The peacock lives in vintage
The windows of life,
looking for sunlight in daylight
The rhyming stars, writes a free verse
In stanzas, lines are lost
In the epic story of life,
Death wrote an epilogue

WRITTEN & EDITED
BY
KENNETH OODEE