The word of GOD is simple simplified even for the grieving eyes
It says what it says
your life is as sure as your knife
the word of god is water thereby quenching the taste
that burns from not knowing
The word of GOD is not written for reading only
what happens when the darkness comes
And Scriptures become blurry
We have to recite from memory
these are penury times
Demons persist and nightmares tell tale signs
With feigned cat o nines
Lies flex their fines in the heart of man
And the earth is sad Wash my hearts spit by the living waters
Saying songs to the gongs hollow lungs
Flicks of scenes divide my heart
In thick and thin
The word of God is not a grave
Do not bury yourself in it
It is for the living
be merry with it with as many that seek it

Razaq IVORI is also known as an African masquerade poet, who hails from our sub-colonial repressions. “He huffs and puffs in 'their' language but never uses their words.” His profile is usually done with a short tale. When he was 15 years old, he visited his grandparents in the village on summer holidays. On the fourth night as he slept, strange men bundled him and carried him outside in the dead of the night from the hut in which he slept. He was ferried to a place where six older men sat around a fire. Strangely enough he never thought of screaming because it was obvious they were family but simply didn't know how to send an invite. They took turns reciting strange words into the flickering fire, using his native tongue turn by turn until his turn. He couldn't speak a word of his native language let alone voice out in the deep incantation the men were using for their spells. Yet he opened his mouth and until this day never shut it. He could be seen on twitter @ivori_1stpoet and Soundcloud


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