The Odds

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The Odds

By Chisenga Malama


Time is running, Like Mr. Bolt

And contemplating, Is now or never

Because putrid is all over,


Stand like a Pyrex

Simply stand straight

With no pyretics

Against the rot


For the note is slowly dying

and pillars are slowly placating

And Now


Viragos are like vicious vipers

Rapes and lynching’s

Are virally virescent like a virelay


Be impotent not

Be a casualty of power not

For catacomb is casuist goldmine


But the energy of youth be enlightened

For humanity, has been looted and squeezed

By power, abuse, violence, greed and corruption

Be not warped or warpers.


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