AT CROSSROADS by Ayoola Goodness

1. More than Conquerors
Fiercely I launched
A great sense  of strength
From the foundation of my soul
A burning factual upheld disposition.
More than conquerors!
Not at a loss punched
Were my fists extended from every breath
Exhuming every buried goal
To arise to the new glory occasion.
More than conquerors!
Bringing down every stronghold
At a swift and exalted speed
The sword and these many fiends
Brought down by a divinely filled fearlessness.
More than conquerors!
My tenacity is like the finest of gold
A pure newness of a healed bruised reed
The light of happiness  in the eyes of friends
In the air of a victorious oneness.
More than conquerors!
The shouts of victory
Covered in the garment of glorious voices
The scare of shame and reproach
And the death of the springs of death.
More than conquerors!


Streams of indecision
Confusion at its peak
Disturbed distorted thoughts
Conflicting ideas reiterating.
Deep wilderness of darkness
What why how when?
Questions teeming inordinately
Many open doors
Right one not sure.
Like the rattles of leaves
Echoes of instructions
Temptation beats aloud.
Fast tracks…glittering fake golds.
Daymares and nightmares
Counselors, rights and wrongs
Patiently declining glimpse of hope
Lost into new bought search.
The old path goodness
A good sure cure
For a point firm and certain.
Are you at a cross road?
Tell it to Jesus.
The neon light caught a radar look
The heart stopped then a trailing thud
Cruising hot the blood in the  veins.
Lifeless as a fish on a hook
The feeling is now strong and odd
A welcome to pleasure, pregnant with pains
Then this hearty ambience
Alarmed of nuptial vows
The ring and the ringed finger.
Below burned a wicked silence
Close was the demon in the slit blouse
A wrecking thirst and a rude hunger.
The willed of the heart to heart
At the embrace of a seductive fire
And this thief must not be love.
Slithered was the godly art
For loud and clear was the growling desire
A harshly beam and a fiery rove.
Netted in her attracted hue
And a loss of the sacred commandment
A captive of a nude beckoning sermon.
Left in the fumes of rue
In the arms of a painted enchantment
I have slept with a demon!

Ayoola Goodness


Goodness Lanre Ayoola (b. 1989) hails from Osun State, Nigeria. Some of his poems are featured in various online literary outlets. His poem ‘sound of a needle-drop’ won the Peregrine Reads Patriot For Change Creativity Contest, 2015.He has a B.A (ED) in English and an NCE in English and Yoruba languages.


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