by Pat Ashinze

In the sky, the clouds get stitched into a circle, a portal, and black vultures fly out, and I watch in awe
as darkness descends upon the face of earth.
I am the prophet. I am the messenger of the high gods.

Cactuses grow thorns,
every man drinks from her succulent bosom with such ease it leaves her empty and thirsty.
Her spicules are for survival.

Pat Ashinze is an hybrid of two major Nigerian tribes: Igbo and Yoruba. Writing, to him is the only way i can talk without being interrupted. He is fluid in his writings, revolving within the axial stream of poetry, prose and what have you. His works have appeared on The Pangolin ReviewCulture Cult Magazine, Kalahari review, Merak Mag UK, Kenwood review, Spillwords,  Piker Press, Kolkata review, Madness Muse Press, Mojave Heart review, Blognostics, Dissident Voice, Vox Poetica, Academy of Heart and Mind, Writers Newsletter, Tuck Magazine, I am Not a Silent Poet, Communicators League, Motivating Africa amongst several others. He recently won the Inaugural Writing Championship contest of The University of Ilorin, Nigeria where he’s also currently pursuing a degree in Medicine.

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