A VERSE THAT IS NOT A POEM FOR DAGGA by OKO OWI OCHO

I wanted to cart psalms from the scripture of my mouth. Write a poem to celebrate this day, but like before, I failed again. So I resort to my escapist style of writing what is neither poetry nor prose. Dagga, I merge you into genres (Is this line a poem? Can’t a single line be a complete poem?)
I picked my pen to write a poem and what came out was a bible quotation. Bible quotation to celebrate Aj Dagga Tolar? But isn’t that the beauty of poetry? But maybe that is where my failure to write Dagga a poem began.
“And God said let us make man in our own image…”
Genesis 1:26

God is draped in dreadlocks
On his head is planted a continent of rough angels
In the song note of September novena
I sing you from the choir in my mouth

I wrote other lines that I threw out immediately. The four lines could be a complete poem, but how can I sing of Dagga from the choir of my mouth without linking the battalion of stars that surrounds his life and throne of deeds? So I stop the poem to write a biography, a book review and an autobiography. Like a God that I mentioned him to be (it is the freedom of a poet to either capitalize his G or not) and how he weaved my destiny through soft and hard trainings.
If this is prose, it defies narrative techniques. Because it talks to you Dagga. So when I alternate I(s) and you(s) and Dagga is being described by an omniscient, it is the freedom that I enjoy.