SOULFLAME MAGAZINE

  ATMOSPHERE A reflective and philosophical atmosphere filled with beauty, pride, comparison, and emotional awakening. The poem gradually shifts from admiration to correction, exposing human arrogance and reminding readers of the equality hidden beneath appearance. THE CRITICISM This world is a savannah  That gives life to only the daffodil.  Wales loves her, and guys cherish her.  They admire the blooming petals  which pops out of her natural attire.  God did adorn her  with worth of sparkling shore pebbles  which diamonize the Pacific shore. This world is a stream  That gives joy to only the lily.  How joyful she is to duel in the land  where nature nurtures just one creature.  She smiles all day long.  Everything is sufficient unto her- the water, the sunlight.  She uses them at will. This world is a rural backyard.  The only plant grown is a vegetable A high-yielding pepper plant.  Every leftover residue...

THE BEAST IN PRIESTS The priest Is a beast He tears every woman apart. He will never give But he will always take from the poor. He purchase But will never pay for it. He begs more than a beggar, He preaches against being a sluggard But he will never work. I am a priest Who suffers the people to do what I preach And not what I do Because I pick where I never kept. For miracle's sake, humans have been buried alive. For the sake of fame I have walked naked in the night. And for riches, I have been disconnected I have lost a washer and a bolt Which binds my senses together. Woe unto me for I am a man after my belly. “Woe unto me for I am a man after my belly.” AUTHOR’S NOTE This poem is inspired by critical observations of religious leadership and moral contradictions within spiritual systems. It reflects on how some individuals who occupy sacred positions fail to align their actions with the principles they preach. The poem is not an attack on faith itself but a questioning of hypocr...

  FEAR OF THE UNCERTAIN Get me a new chair That which I sat on is inconvenient. I am thirsty But I am okay. I am hungry But I think I am fine now. Where is my entourage? This country is too slippery for my liking. My soul runs out of refreshment But I can not find my doctor This food must be tested Life is too expensive. Poor soul Keep distance Man is a beast when carried away. And you are neither exceptional nor trusted. I was in trance And you were my antagonist You shied my soul With a gun barrel. All I want is that You stay clear of the house. Never shall my foot raise atop the soil that bred me I heard wizards snatch breath From the living and give them home yonder. He is far from the truth And too immature to understand that A witchery is a wound A sore that one must travel with. I must hide from mother. After decade she sent him a love letter My loving son Every day I visit you in UK And I must say it is lovely To have three wonderful grandchildren. You see! My son, the way ...

RHETORICAL Have you ever thought of those still asleep Because you needed the pavement? Have you ever thought of the blood shed Because the throne longs for human sacrifice? Have you ever thought of those lives lost Because the election needed money? Have you ever thought of humans butchered Because you flipped pennies in the air? Have you ever thought of families ruined Because the husband voted you and the wife another? Have you ever thought of children disowned Because they refused to vote for you? Have you ever thought of the commotion in church Because my candidate is not his? And so nothing he does Looks good to me, he is my foe. Have you ever thought of destinies exchanged Because you exhausted yours? Have you ever thought of how wayward these youths are Because they lack tomorrow? You have forcefully taken what is not yours Have you thought of that? You have built the church with blood Have you thought of that? You have cast the pillar with human heads and Miracle sleeps in the...

BUSY SOUL Like I would say We've got ways to pay We see it not a delay Monday Tuesday Wednesday Name the days It goes again this way Suffering comes in phases It could be as though you are busy Working Schooling Killing self and burning candle Like reading over probation Like escaping mortuary To the sanctuary praising God I know of a priest who is busy He is never dizzy anyway Neither is he moody He is just friendly Too silent sometimes like an Egyptian Mummy But not lazy anyway I understand his way He wants to be Holy Yea I really give them my love They pray everyday, times without number Fast like I will do in the absence of food Supplicate like job Interceding as if he fathered them all Eyes still fixed on his job Not to be haunted by the watchdog I know of a politician who is very busy He has a lot of money But still not okay He haunts with many Sleeps with Penny Make merry With Mary Which we know he won't marry Like my friend would say- "I am a political Messiah Who ...