3 Poems│Abuoya Eruot



there are days you wander in between trunks of trees in the darkest forest imbedded in your veins. you wished plucking your two lens out of their sockets; wanting not to behold avid zombies climbing the stoops of your spine. sometimes you’d make a wish of escaping from the cells in your body. for your body has become a thing that’s too heavy to be carried by your tongue. so you can’t call its name. home no longer inhabits your mouth. for your body is not yours but a property of a different creature: you. there are days you begin to live betwixt two extremes— you can’t lie on your back neither your belly nor sit on your buttocks. other times you offer prayers for the ground to move its two lips far apart & consume you. or best, the earth and everything be crumpled up like a piece of paper, including you.

Lovely Death Race

relationship is a lovely death race
a horror film 

in Monrovia,
falling in love with a girl means you inherit

all her troubles and distresses.

on valentine’s day,
a girl sews her lips to her man’s

and demands: 
he sucks up all the filthy things inside of her house & make it his

suicide is a faceless troubadour:

give a boy love
and watch him choke himself to death.

the quickest way to end a boy’s life without serving him pain
is to give him happiness: a girl he loves and so desires

a lifeguard once drowned himself
because his lover asked him
to be water
to fit into her very life threatening     suffocating container 

fact: relationship was a smooth seesaw kind of thing
where two persons seated on it/ lift each other one at a time— 

u n t i l

it came to my country
and became a one sided bullshit!

Drowning Soul 


this body is good
from the outside:

smiling to heartbeats of pretense
dancing to random beats

and to every random of nature it dances
deep down the corners of this body 

lies pits deeper than the great rift valley
engulfed by quiet laughter


this body is a container 
of joy and bliss
torments and neglects: 

this body has refilled itself
it is cracked
suffering the kind gestures of tornadoes
it is a map of potholes, scars and bruises 


this body is shallow

with the head almost swallowed 

by ravaging depression
this body is sinking:
nobody cares

wave your hands above the head

Abuoya Eruot writes from Paynesville, Liberia. He’s a budding poet and a worshipper of music, who gathers muse from personal experiences, happenings in society, and nature. His works have been published in Praxis Magazine, Eboquills, Odd Magazine and elsewhere.

Lake Adedamola is a poet, writer, and editor with Nantygreens, who's worked with several other literary blogs including Brittle Paper. He has, since 2018, served in various capacities on the Lagos International Poetry Festival, LIPFest, team.

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