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Three Poems by Abdulmueed Balogun

  Covered Where are we to go from here with our immature dreams?  Swinging to-and-fro around the neck of aspiration  and with our minds, frail like spider's web,  yet to mature into the fullness of a grown man, what are we to conjure? Who will be there to stay with us  with our worries ginormous as a blue whale and our minds wallowing in tumult like a disconcerted home, who will tame? Which road will hope tread to  come find us and lynch forlorn — the new sun in the sky of our minds, who will dim its shine?  from which pore will the feeling of wretchedness  ooze out  among the multiple pores on our sullen skin? I long heard that answers are huge mysteries covered in  array of uncertainties and that only time can unveil the road leading to their demystifications. Daylight   Their cries — orphans groping under the root of darkness pining for light of liberation  to scream like someone who sees a ghost in daylight. Dear God, will their cries ever vanish like spiraling smoke? Their pai

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