Citizens Of Hell

by Kufre Udeme

Once, it was a structure of miracles
Full of scenes inexplicable by the laws of nature
Set like a hill in major lucky cities
With the assembly hall in the town of Jerusalem.

Now, like weeds it springs in every path
Go to the White House or Aso Rock
There are altars in the heart of the Government
Explode a trip to space, or be rooted beneath the earth
There's nowhere without pulpits, for men of belief.

In China, in United States of America
Temples grow with tiny sandful units
Like electric poles along the streets of Lagos
Creating danger for the shapes of our towns.

In those days Priests were divinely called
As stainless as the manna of Wilderness
So they were to be rods of the Highest Order
But today, even dogs at the market place
Throws a selfish aim to light a mass.

Money-motivated Priests erect stores in temples
Casting olive spell upon the congregation
Enchanting them all to brains of goats
Innocent fools, their ears can no longer spot
Which of the jerking ghosts is holy.

Scribes and Pharisees are now the Apostles
And the Egyptians have become the children of Israel
What more is there to know?
Or that the gospel is now in the hands of the Sadducees?
Or that the Publicans are now the majorities in the Kingdom?

Erudites of the good tidings, from the jungles of Africa
Quick as tropic lightning, bring the jar of truth
Empty it upon America, Asia, Australia, and Eroupe
You can overlook Antarctica, it might be the foundation of hell.

Make the Jews know, O sons of gods
That the ever burning wax is running short of wick
Soon, very soon, darkness will fall on the temple
Like a black paint upon an old glass.

There will be no mercy for hills and valleys
All those who have scattered what was organised
Will be issued a flaming yellow passport
Not by the Twinkling Golden Kingdom
Preserve for mortals of the Lamb's Morality
But by the Baseless Rift of Burning Brimstones.

The imagination of man does not exceed the degree
Of how much it will surpass the agony
In the burning furnance of Nebuchadnezzar
And there will not be a drop of water to tame the throat
Even death will no longer be the foe of life
For the passport will crown the spoilers permanent citizens of hell.