This is Ijebu-Ode
Torched by day, ashed at night; Dawn carved herself a silhouette.
Tarmacs caressed in rash horniness by asphalt and degraded rubber,
Heavy automobiles, the terror of matter.
Bicycles on the highway, the journey of a thousand miles.

This is Ijebu-Ode
A bowl of sleep resistant warriors,
Monopoly of trade, friendly demons on wifi.
An Apple, they say, keeps the doctors away,
Tongues out for a stench of update, the essence of format.

This is Ijebu-Ode.
Pretty in damsels and damage.
An amazement for every stare, slaves of patience.
Of nature's pretty, wrapped in satisfied expiration.
Thighs and holes, merchandised, soft words, real soft words; a bed of lilies of the valley;


© Xavier Clann