Clothe My Feet

What to wear up to stage
Shoes to fit the new age
Kicks that show I kick it
Will the camera catch it

Crocs are so my favourite
When my passion’s burning bright
I’ll be slaying tomatoes
Body art to my toes

Sandals used to be enough
Multitasking through the rough
Who cares what I clothe my feet
As long as I am gospel fit

The Niel Quchi
© 2020

In Sickness

You were supposed to have his back,
Be his anti-body in this sinful world,
He broke the tablets of our hearts,
When he left us for you,
You had him looking above this cloud,
This cloud of flaws hovering over humans,
You were his mentor; a star guiding him into this Perfect life,
A view obscured and inverted to our hearts,
But a clear and perfect reflection to him,

He never for once ignored your call,
Remember when he housed you with his sisters; Mary and Martha,
He never for once judged and questioned you,
But when he needed you,
You were far from home,
You could have used one of your tricks,
To race against time and space,
But you didn’t, instead, you chose your work over him,
I guess he was always a second choice,
A means to an end; the path to our hearts,

Four days! He has been dead,
This tomb now clothes his lifeless body,
The passage to the afterlife,
And here you come with your twelve,
Wearing sad faces and tears,
Like a kid who lost his candy,
If only the news of his sickness,
Had quickened your feet,
To behold your friend on his sickbed,
Maybe he would have seen another sunset,
Maybe I would have felt his lips on my forehead,
Maybe his Aunt would embraced his warmth one last time,
Just enough for us to bid him farewell,
But you abandoned him,
You broke your vows,
The communion of promises you both shared with one another,
Sleep on Lazarus,
Your friend, Jesus is here,
To say goodbye to his dear friend,
Whom in sickness, he abandoned!

Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2020

I Can’t Breathe

So, you give yourself a treat
Basking in the Euphoria
Of Pizza, ice cream and Shawarma
With your dry throat
Enjoying the constant flow
Of a very chill Pepsi
As soon as they announce
One day fasting and prayer
…..I can’t breathe

All night Long
You had a one night stand
Twerking, rolling and standing
On a long thing
But when it was time
To spend one night
With the King of kings
The Creator of all long
And short things
….I can’t breathe

During the Pandemic
You were the Minister of information
The broadcaster of all Confirmed
And Death cases
Now that God has kept you alive
To broadcast His Word
And Minister to his children
….I can’t Breathe

Yes!
You can’t breathe in
The polluted air of Immorality
And exhale the Purity of Divinity
You’ve given your body
All the attention
And sentenced your spirit
To life in detention
No matter the balanced diet you eat
Your Life is not balanced
If your spirit man is not gallant

Beyond the seen
There’s a life behind the scene
Beyond the full feeling
There’s an in-filling
Where drunkenness is normal
And Doggedness is not carnal
Here, there are no neutral grounds
If your feet are not standing on a secret
They will smoke you out like cigarettes
Living too casual
Makes you a casualty
Your Spirit Life Matters

Uwe Etim
© 2020

Take My Hands Instead

One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020

Rape Rep

I represent the biggest scums of the century.
I represent one of the greatest threats to women globally.

Your body is already a beautiful battlefield. A rose with thorns torn apart by it’s blueprint. It is not enough that your body cries rose-coloured tears monthly, some members of my gender have turned your pores into drawers for stashing away years of frustration. Tiny portals of escape, from which they seek prison-breakthroughs. Scofielding along your orchards, fuelled by animalistic passions.

Do something
That’s what I’m trying to say
Show me I am worth the pain, give me hope to a fault; tell me life has a meaning

That’s what I read in your diary
I am what you blame for dying, greet
One of the biggest
scum in existence
Women, they fear me
My favourite victims
…Men mostly in prison.
I am traumatizing

We’ve got a new brand for the parents
Comes with the power to pay rent
Found out I am recycling
Let’s leave the topic quietly
I’ve come from an old day
People started that way
Ignoring any volition
But theirs, until…

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
Niel Quchi
© 2020

Lover

Your heart like an ember
I know you remember
The moments we shared and the lights that it rendered
The lilies we gathered
For your love was an anchor
It held us together
Even when I repelled and was attracted by doubt and depression

Your love is faith
It conceals the thoughts of my heart from the fatigues of unbelief
Your love is an ancient word, hidden in the bedrocks of my heart
Agape, a fruit Stemming forth from within
Being pruned carefully not considering any retardation to yield
Those lashes you took, for me
With a spear through your hips to spare this unfit
This is deep!
Chills through my body—you didn’t give in
You gave up when there was nothing worth fighting for
It’s finished, I mean I was finished
A recreated piece

Adethatwrites
© 2020

RESCUE

I found rags to cover up
I take the lonely road home
Trying to hold back tears
– Mum will be so angry –
I’m at the front door
And I can’t ring the doorbell
The door clicks open and Mum gasps
– What happened? –
– I don’t know –
I sob and drop to my knees
– Don’t worry honey, let me clean you up –
She picks me up and takes
Me to her bathroom, peels
The rags off me, picks out
The dying petals from my hair
And cleans off the ashes from
My body. She gently sponges
Me and shampoos my hair
I let out the tears
– I’m so sorry Mum –
– It’s okay honey, you’ll be fine –
I nod
– I love you, you know that right? –
I nod
When she is done, I look at
The bathroom mirror and touch
My face. I see the glow come into
My eyes, I smile and clean off my tears
– I love you –

IfiokAbasi Okop
© 2019