By Chima Paschal

Hypocrites

painted masquerades
the apparel of charade
seductive lips of the pulpit
pervade like a damp armpit


they grab the front pew
like they're the chosen few
with their big and giant bible
on which they noisily babble


their "hallelujah" is the loudest
mouths of prayer are the widest
with flamboyant dresses in gold
they're like the Pharisees of old


they'll give you the golden kiss
but behind every kiss is a hiss
don't run into their embrace
it's warm but has no grace


sainted simpering sinners
who trumpet like winners
parading the wiles of the devil
they live in vile and veil their evil


they'll be like a weeping wino
when whirling wind will winnow
with dust of rage that voices the rains 
and fan out the chaffs from the grains

Black Sun

black, black skin
fashioned from sifted warm clay
embellished with the strength of faith
modelled on culture and moral rectitude
adorned with the beauty of sunset


black, black skin
the African traditional silky attire
threaded from the hands of dusk
tailored with artistic dexterity 
and worn with pride and modesty


black, black skin
the essence and verity of true nature
natural like untapped palm kernel juice
ageless like the truth of the tongue
unwrinkled and forever unblemished

Chima Paschal is a poet from Lagos, Nigeria

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