By John chizoba Vincent

The sun of Aleppo will not

Smite you by the night of war;

for you are the toothpick stronger

then the great wall of China,

you are a king of the night

Music in your head is grace,

love is sweet in your mouth,

Stars seen in your eyes are

the celestials of the heavens;

your muse is the god of perfection.


You are the art in appreciation,

you are the streams of knowledge,

the movement of your hair by the air

is the orbiting voices of the angels,

the earth cannot even home your skull.


Dance of your feet are tale of love

writing from home to home for peace,

your beads glitter and glow for sanity.

Moonchild, moonlight of tomorrow,

We are the song of your yesterday.


Moonchild, moonlight of the gods,

Through your destiny we can build,

Yesterday made us a fool; fools

Pocketing our groaning lies to fault

Come, take us home where you live.


About the author

Bada Yusuf Amoo