Warheads of my Tongue by Akwu Sunday Victor

Warheads of my Tongue

Akwu Sunday Victor


I know not how to sing again

Sing again after my song was stolen

Stolen by the wind at dusk

How can I sing when my throat

Is threatened by boils--

Boils that have appeared as cracks;

Crack on the lips of an orphan in harmattan?


Well, I know I cannot sing, I can't sing

I can't sing for my throat is dust-filled

When I sang for them, the blade of my voice

Broke the embossment of brittle dust

And stood above the wailing tongue of the bereaved.


I cannot sing again!

Songs are not sung on an empty stomach.

I have lost my tongue

These breeds of liars,

I know not the nomenclature to affix them.

How can I know when hunger has built

A nest in the crevices of my stomach?

While canaries of rage invade the green field

Of my mind making me go gaga?

Who is there to play the flutes and stringed

Instruments for my song to fly upon?

We are all hungry and our sun has descended

Behind thick shrouds of clouds.


How can I sing a dead fetus of a song?

In my songless state spearheads glide

Through the horizon of my mind

Arrowheads with tail of fire fly

Like fireflies through the dark terrain

Of my Matthews twisted mind

When hearts shall be infested with the warhead

Of my tongue and the dormant seeds begin

Stirring, then will your sleep be clawed

Out of the graves of your eyes

Then shall the sun smiling over your skyscrapers

Be pulled out of the epicentre of the sky

And thrown into the intestine of Hades

Hades burning bright sulphur will of our anger

Anger stirred by epochs of broken promises.


Akwu Sunday Victor

Meet the Poet

Akwu Sunday Victor holds a degree in English Language and Literary Studies. He is presently a post graduate student.