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By Dami Ajayi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Man with the bald pate
Is Ward Seven. We
Are mere gate-keepers.

Ro-ma-sin-der
Isn’t that Upper Room glossolalia?
But Keke says it’s a synonym
For God, the answer to all things

The beauty of intactness
Has made science God’s aficionado
But bantering angels commit glitches
That seep right out of God’s showroom.

Like a set of identical twins
Who need Haloperidol: halos
For pretty dolls.

Out of context is a
New differential for intactness.

But who will buy reality’s wool?
When silken fantasies cast silver
Spangles on man’s consciousness.

Let my mind also play tricks
On me, make my wishes flagellate
Like wands at the magicians’
Conference. Anything but Haloperidol
For this schizophrenic poet.

Ro-ma-sin-der
Isn’t that Upper Room glossolalia
But Keke says it’s a synonym
For God, Not the answer to all things.

The above poem is Verse VI of the poem, ‘Clinical Blues’, in Dami Ajayi’s collection of the same title.

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