All dressed up, bottom box
frills, thrills and booyahs!
No party though to go;
But appearances, keep thee up.
Your thoughts are fat,
my understanding, thin.
Grandiose ideas thou have,
manifestly minuscule in truth.
Great mansions you promised,
but no land is in sight, anywhere!
Ghosts of the past, they are here,
awoken from fitful slumbers.
You feign wealth when all there’s
to see are books, well-cooked …
Still, you swagger along,
charming pants off people.
Cookie jars a-running!
Tired am I of your
jug of jarring juxtapositions.
cold, nay hot; heated yet wintry,
in an endless rigmarole.
Successfully, you’ve made
virtue and vice mingle together;
at home with sin and penitence,
surefooted in the art of double speak.
Are you not spent,
is your power not sapped?
How many seasons must we endure?
Thou purveyor of inconsistencies?
©️ Adewale Adeniji. November 2019.