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JOURNALS OF AN AESTHETIC RENEGADE IN THE TIMES OF RENAISSANCE
Did I petition for this inferior firmament of the Adam's Haven?.
Perhaps an amnesic transaction had ensued behind closed
doors or a blackmailing collateral like a noose waiting to hang
the ensnared craven.
Gallivanting on the highway to hell,the lone musketeer hums a
forsaken hymn of "carry on my wayward son" the yearning
melody provokes the Schizophrenia's condemnation.
All said and done antagonize the nothing said or done as the
precocious urchin stares on into the boulevard streets of the
forsaken rotting animate abominations.
Barely clutching onto the balance of the careening hands of
time,the ever watching eyes of the quiet spirit calculates the
erratic pulse of the zapped energy.
Into the usual escapades of everyday,the encounter of the
undertaker paralyzes the rebel lion of the wildcard,the reality of
death at the drop of a hat coerces the savor of it and the living
to the full fill.
Hardly cloaking,the genetic make-up of the two faced fiend
struggles to conjure it's vanishing act in the light of the sun rays,
the dread of the find of it along poetic prejudice by it's victims
lingers on its mind.
On the banquet table lies a revolting assortment of delicacies
and diabetic sumptuous dishes after it's kind,enticed by the
splendour of it the helpless parasite of the glutton craves for it's
untamed spree of feed.
Captivated by the rainbow color paint of the driving
bandwagon,thou jumps into it without an afterthought, while
peering around, the notice of pairs beckons a nostalgic desire
of the estranged better half.
The reinventions of a coincidence of past lovers was the ideal
at the premiere yet the darling stalked off the designated tracks
weary of the harsh karmic love cycle and into another's
embrace"Where refuges my love",the deserted rhetoric cries.
Snatched from thy slumber, a masculine quizzing tone of ;"who
do you know"vexingly raptures the veins,nay astonied by the
threatening pent up muscles of bullying brutes eager for some
fray, the odds of the ignore evens disappointment.
Black shadows hover the citadels of the South end,marring
black cloathed damsels and hags suggests the dress code
exclusive of either a mass funeral of some opulent cutthroat
aristocrat or a depressing cult?.
The infamous chatter of "call my name and I'll be there"tickles
my curiosity to talk the talk yet somehow strange to find the
same company of silence,is there a hint of a prevalent stalking
spirit of hush, somehow an unmentioned deity.
Horsepower cars, spinning yarns,tall towers, glamorous
diamonds,the vanity of the cutting edge inventions of the
intellectual and analytical shifts the paradigm to a much
tolerable bearing yet their nature stirs vile.
The multiskin of the distinct tribal cults craves no
justification,such glittering segregation of a so-called class and
the indiscriminate strife for racial supremacy holds no bars nor
conscientized deter.
Bathing in these deep trenches of senseless competition of
allies and foes, the loyalty of the masses tests positive of
malicious envy ,betrayal and sinister loathe, thereby abetting a
wildfire discord amidst contagious deficiencies.
As the abhorrence debilitates,the once before masters watches
on at the self destruct of the present day man that boasts of
astounding feats of progression, yet the ultimate question of
the day interrogates;"how much more and at what cost, thus the
until when does it beseech restraint?".
Finger combing the tangled hair,the pluck of the grey strand
startles the dawn of the old age,the superstition of a totem of
wisdom should delight thou yet the man in his prime cannot
pinpoint his heartfelt attainments.
Floating through the heavy currents,I did my bid to stay alive by
sailing through with gritted teeth and clenched fists,love and
hate,life and death, black and white, the protagonist factions of
barrier in it's immaculate virginity couldn't need an acid test.
In the nature gallery,thou feeds off the raw inspiration,the
repercussions of it lay in colored animate on the white canvasamidst the outstanding melancholy tunes of the opera sonata.
Playing on, the booming onomatopoeia of the exquisite singer
whistles surreal to the yearning eardrums,still with tales of the
damnation of the mankind deprived of a ray of hope, despair
plagued on the many like a fatal virus.
All in all,a saving act from the deadly fall is of the none,the die
is cast and the victorious six even lies in the clutches of the
man with the last laugh,the life well lived or neither is of no
relevance,the worth is the hope for a remembrance by the true
love of our lives.
Alas!!, in the morbid catatonia,the corners of thy mouth widens
still with a maybe the best farewell laugh of reassurance this
life of obstinate rebellion could have ever conceded.

© @Opoku Francisca