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Don’t Call Me Mad : Churchgoers


With millions of congregation

Dancing from corner to edges

As the choristers sings; rock of ages

-With sweet surrender voices

Curative surely is for the deaf

To the left, surprisingly my twin-wings swings

Not intentionally or by the act of the whirling winds

Nor the hatred in the tune or song she sings

But for the entire things the bible call sins

Looking through their eyes

I see ruthlessness in their hearts.


I see things heavy for an angel’s eye

Swiftly I swerved my eyes up and down

To the shining roof and floor

And then the well-furnished temple

There goes a rhythm

“Ride on pastor”


The preacher perspires right on the alter

Blessings with no curses he dispenses

The sermon he delivers has the power

“Time is near, change from your old ways” he warns

My white eye turns red

“Emotional” you may think

But the words he says

Are falling into the ears

Of a wrong parishioners


In the middle of a million worshipers

The medley of loud thoughts

Hits my ears

Not even one of them all has a clear mind

The preacher also is a supporter of no just

Dear lord I’m outnumbered.



Written by Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

© 2012: https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com




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