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
Academy of the Heart And Mind 