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A Story of Rambling Clichés


poem, vanity poems, poems about life and death, interesting narrative of Emeka, read, enjoy, Readersketch

This night sky is not a muse. It is as unremarkable as a rabid dog resting by a refuse dump. The moon lies abandoned, a phosphorescent kite cut from its strings and let adrift; a half eaten wafer from the priest's communion. From between the prison of my toes
your legs are your limitations.

It looks like an official email saying yes but I can't remember what I asked, my brain is wet cotton wool and I can only think of touching my tonsils and then my windpipe, wondering why we brazenly thrust an open invitation to death's warm kiss. But I understand this is how it is, I once got a tiny splinter of wood under my nail and knew why people wore coats of thorns and daggers. I wonder how many secrets will die in my throat and how many will die in yours, what the world will never know until we tell it, how many are untold, how many are forgotten.

St. Joseph teach us how to die!

I don't know how this relates to the bland sky but I know that it does not remember the man who wore a smoking jacket beside a petrol tank. You forget that the night stars are orphans that ate their parents to live and look pretty for you.

"A story of rambling clichés" is a brief melancholic meditation about the meaning(lessness) of life especially viewed through the lens of death. Written with a prose format, in obtuse, abstract language and tightly packed imagery. It ends without a resolution.

A Story of Rambling Clichés

©2020 Moses Chukwuemeka Chimeremeze. All Rights Reserved.

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