Holy Ghost is a poem, evidently. But what is a poem if not a liquor made from the soul of its writer. Here, this liquor of mine wears Miley Cyrus’s fragrance. Mark my words, this text deserves a fugitive look, at least, for it gives another piece of the puzzle of my multilayered psyche. But beyond this, this poem is Woman Adoration at its best!

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Vitrine de Poesie

What if for a min I were some shade of some Olympian Entity

The Heir of Poseidon now rightful to shake Earth’s foundations

For the hell of it and for the high of just seeing you unadorned

Wouldn’t I tattoo upon my skull and bones the zests of your Zion

Like that Nephilim from Nazareth dead and back amongst the living

I found in you my second-life purpose I despise what is living

Can’t deny I long for your kissing can’t deny I’ll pact for your loving

For your whispering upon my ears for your caressing of my neck for your adoring

Hate the stranger I am who this vehemently dares worship you

Hate me the more I write for I’ll pray deeper that apostasy called you

The ins and outs of my Sprite will be wasted before the Lord of Hosts

For in you I found my Holy Ghost

And my Hail Mary and my Living Water and my Holy Grail

And my My-oh-My and a fiery Comet that made the sunny Star of my Destiny derail

— Gilles F. Dogbo


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