The Temple Will Be Empty When We Wake

 

A cent for a soul

Black market that grows green in our belly

We taught them how to hang a crucifix

The shorter side is the head of the saviour

So it stands aloft, pointing north.

 

It astounds me how black candles put out darkness

Like a lizard eating the carcass of a crocodile-

Her sibling from another mother.

We sold them little lights in burning wax

And told them skulls on crossings are glyphs of Satanism.

 

The war is not carnal

Not the clashing of metals and throwing of daggers

We taught them how to stay up at night

Speaking strange languages, screaming and groaning

For sometimes God feigns deafness for silence.

 

We told them hell is a dungeon of pythons

Knowing men fear reptiles

And sinners are dry leaves floating around fire

Someday, they shall merry in claws of flame

So we taught them how to love hating the flesh.

 

Bring all treasures to the holy place

We read them lies from the book of truth

Metamorphose into ticks under their furs

Eating them of the sweetness from their sweats

We pray before we prey!

 

But someday, in decades to come

They shall begin to see

That God is neither beauty nor beast

In the fanaticism of religion

& in the tongues of false prophets

Then when we shall sleep, and wake to an empty temple.

 

 

On your road to Damascus

 

I am a soldier walking in the body of a poet.

I save cities from boys like you.

A raven perched on my winlast night,

It carried your name and a story

Of how your mother ran into water when you left

Hoping you’ll take in a bit of her every time you thirst.

 

Your fathers were no better men;

They bored holes in their hearts and filled them with rum

So they could crumble the bottles into pieces

And throw them at the masses all night.

But it wasn’t long before the city was set on fire.

They all sat by a river, mourned and watched their Babylon fall.

 

Every wall in hell has its shadow on your palm.

I saw you squeezed them on the heart of a young girl

Whom you bruised, and led into womanhood.

I watched you grip them on what was never yours

And dipped it into a purse full of lies and deceit.

I saw devil every time you left a loophole on your skin.

 

On your road to Damascus, I am your saviour. 

You will not make another Babylon

From this Zion!

 

Micheal Ace Author at PAROUSIA Magazine

Biography:

Michael Ace is a Writer and Poet from Ibadan, Nigeria. He has authored two poetry chapbooks titled ‘Sermon From A Stammerer’ and ‘Scarlet Silk’.

His poems have also appeared or forthcoming on Praxis Magazine, Brittlepaper, Lunaris Review, Khalari Review, PIN Journal, WRR, Tuck Magazine, African Writers, Wildsound Review, Peregrine Reads and elsewhere.

A Christian and lover of true Gospel. He is a Computer Scientist and Programmer but with a great passion for Art and Literature.

He is the Editor and CEO of ACEworld Publisher.