The wolves Disguise | by Awonke Zoya


I was writing , writing a poem 
The words became something of a melody. 
The harmony not quite making sense .
Untill I realised every word ,every parable was the definition of Nolen 
Just thinking of him made me breathless
some find weakness at their knees at the sound of him but I was getting cold feet...
Not your usual though ,my tongue was drowning,choking  and downing his semon forcefully

While on Sundays he woke up brushed his filthy mouth 
Preached what he dared never practise 
As the congregations more like nations applauded 
"what a beautiful sermon bishop"
He was "anointed" so they said 
They were either hypnotised or brainwashed by the illusions they had
They thought were miracles
They bowed before him ,kissed him at his feet 
 Put him on a pedestal like he were God as he violated their daughters ,corrupted their sons polluted minds, misleading them .

They were  not blind to not  notice or differentiate right from wrong but he blurred their visions with brown envelopes .
He was the actual terminator not just a bed time story for he had everyone that trusted him in a scope 
He was playing God with his holy notes
With our names scripted ,counting our days before our chickens could hatch,
burried us one by one like a hatchet
And without fail we never noticed and that was the catch ...
The more lives lost the deeper his pockets .

 He was as good as a designer as he never failed to patch anything up 
He wasn't your usual criminal
He didn't run when things got heated instead like a chef he did touch ups with every diabolical plan and mishap 
Making sure it wasn't too sweet to convince 
Not too salty/bitter to swallow 
Not  too dull  to the eyes but just creamy enough to put the cherry on top 
He was indeed what I call a top dog 
He was in his element at the expense of innocents but Maybe not too innocent to go unpunished 

He was never caught but everyone who believed in him became collateral damage
As we were all on his menu 
Where  his pythons laid ready to devour 
 He was a tad too short from his seasoning... bodies turned into skeletons all dried as he drains them like fine wine 
More faces hung up on the streets and he gains even more power 

By A. Zoya

I was writing , writing a poem The words became something of a melody. The harmony not quite making sense . Untill I realised every word ,every parable was the definition of Nolen Just thinking of him made me breathless some find weakness at their knees at the sound of him but I was getting cold feet... Not your usual though ,my tongue was drowning,choking and downing his semon forcefully While on Sundays he woke up brushed his filthy mouth Preached what he dared never practise As the congregations more like nations applauded "what a beautiful sermon bishop" He was "anointed" so they said They were either hypnotised or brainwashed by the illusions they had They thought were miracles They bowed before him ,kissed him at his feet Put him on a pedestal like he were God as he violated their daughters ,corrupted their sons polluted minds, misleading them . They were not blind to not notice or differentiate right from wrong but he blurred their visions with brown envelopes . He was the actual terminator not just a bed time story for he had everyone that trusted him in a scope He was playing God with his holy notes With our names scripted ,counting our days before our chickens could hatch, burried us one by one like a hatchet And without fail we never noticed and that was the catch ... The more lives lost the deeper his pockets . He was as good as a designer as he never failed to patch anything up He wasn't your usual criminal He didn't run when things got heated instead like a chef he did touch ups with every diabolical plan and mishap Making sure it wasn't too sweet to convince Not too salty/bitter to swallow Not too dull to the eyes but just creamy enough to put the cherry on top He was indeed what I call a top dog He was in his element at the expense of innocents but Maybe not too innocent to go unpunished He was never caught but everyone who believed in him became collateral damage As we were all on his menu Where his pythons laid ready to devour He was a tad too short from his seasoning... bodies turned into skeletons all dried as he drains them like fine wine More faces hung up on the streets and he gains even more power By A. Zoya