What if humans never existed?
What if paradise was just a frame of mind?
What if hell was never as hot as we were told?
What if the sun was a prisoner kept away from earth with story untold?
What if death was a rescue mission from this troubled world?
What if many could be said without uttering a word?
What if Jesus never died and Eve never ate the damn apple,
Satan never left paradise and the Revelation just an imagination of what could happen?
What if Pa. Joseph never died and his smile never disappeared?
Francis had a weak kidney. If I had given him one from mine, would he be here competing for the longest beard?
What if love could be felt and not traded?
And without conditioning, help rendered?
What if my pens never bled these thoughts and are left dead?
What if this piece never existed?
Father told me to stay away from Uncle James. What happened, he never said.
What if AIDS never existed, would there have been another reason to give no aid?
Pastor preached about suicide not being the solution
But how could he understand when he has never been a victim of chronic depression?
Father used to say “love shows up with a mask”. You never know when it comes
Mom always says “the climax of comfort is not love, home is”
The bible wants me to love
But I wonder, what is love that it leaves so much confusion at my door?
What if it never existed?
Last Sunday, I sat next to a soldier’s wife
Her eyes were red and are knees were weak from praying
Combatant Kenneth left home four years ago to protect the inside from the outside
Could he be dead? She hopes not. Everyday she’s praying
What if this piece is meant to do nothing but disturb your peace?
What if this pen only laments about our weak ends?
Teacher once said “success is only for the selfish”
Never cry at all. If you do, do so in the comfort of a cool Mercedes
What if success was never about my surrounding but my state?
What if the tears were to serve as therapy?
What if my cracked voice is the key to help from above?
John used to say “this thing na scam”
But I stay up most nights asking, what isn’t?
What if things are not what they seem?
What if that nonsense is just an indicator to the limit of your thought?
Cousin Tope once said “the joy of a man lies in the heart of his wife”
Maybe that wasn’t applicable to Mr. Ezomo
What if Adam was a woman who got pregnant to give birth to Eve?
What if the union of man and woman never existed?
What if the urge never arises?
I was forced to sing “twinkle little star”
As much as I never cared, I was forced to wonder
What if the height was just an illusion,
And the star was neither little nor looked like a diamond?
What do I say about my obsession with these cold dark thoughts?
What do I say about my obsession with poetry and how in my mind it trots?
What if this piece was just an echo in my head?
What if poetry never existed?
And this piece?
Never written.
[Solution]
