Rain

It will always come regularly
Anxiety & fear bringing all its disorderly
Sending minds sinking deep like anchors
And hearts into a place of rancour
Economies crashing like MMMs
Shorter mornings, Longer PMs
Success books now providing alternates
As we search for wealth secrets
Yet our Souls are still dry deserts
Aching with pain, looking for comforts
Even when prayers rise up like incense
And our expectations, filled with suspense
Yet the wait is just too long
Our faith might not be that strong
But then incense will becomes clouds
Roaring like lions making sounds so loud
Then It comes
Pouring down its blessings
Wiping off all our facings
The rain draining our Sorrows
Fill souls that have been hallow
Washing away all our pains
Making crazy minds, accurate and sane
Our prayers are never in vain
Because we are sure it will RAIN!

Uba Victor Isoje
© 2018

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The Fire of Revolution

If you truly want a revolution
You must be willing to watch your life fade
From before your own vanishing eyes

If you crave for the heavens showered
With bright red flames and blinding white light
You must care to be consumed with it

The rebirth you long for
Isn’t held in familiar bosoms
Is never at home with soft couches, tamed roses and sweet homely dinners

The freedom that’ll last forever
Is an intense joy and a harrowing pain
Stabs of rejection, and lingering loving embraces

If you truly want a revolution
You must be willing to watch your life burn
And glow

If you want a revolution that lasts forever
How about a death that scorches us into unending life?
How about Christ, Revolution Eternal?

Ikenna Nwachukwu
© 2018

WE, THE INDEPENDENT ONES

We are they that ride on the waves,
Of ideas, beautiful manifestos of the 50s,
The very spittle that our mother told us if dried before the 60s,
Our navels would rot,

We are the child born in lies,
A fatherless child of 250 fathers,
A child that reminds our mother of this rape called amalgamation,
The child who is half of everything,
Whose strength should be in being everything,
Yet one thing rules: the cancer of corruption,

We are this child in dependence,
To the blind, senseless man that knew how we were delivered from,
This very deep inferno between our mother’s leg,
We encourage ourselves with hopes in things,
Things our reality tells us can never be,
We are married to Religion,
These new Masters that promise us mansions and virgins when we,
Like the worms, cringe and bow out of this stage,

We are hungry,
Milk and honey we dare not wish for,
Our elder brothers eat honey,
They told us to pray,
If we dared stared too long into his plate, he would slay,
The nascent dream we have,

We are independent,
Masters of our own,
Slaves to our elder brothers,
Who constantly tell us that the rudders will be ours one day,
Yet make their sons our master when,
Need be…..
Happy Independence Day.

Chukwu Simeon Chidiebere
© 2018

CLAD

I have been a gladiator all my life,
Wrestling with both man and beast all these times,
A complexion of my scars,
The door to my mind’s wounds,
I scarcely knew a hero within these black holes,
Far from the skies,

I entertained spectacular foes for audience,
And my evening had unfolding shows that were popular for my trophy pose,
With facades of joy,
After which I was given the raw meat to eat with a glass of some bitterness to sip,
My pride servicing my red eyes,
With lots of grin applause as envy came as a plus,

Death was my inevitable choice,
A sting option, patient for it’s active chance to occur,
And so no matter the wins, the victims, the gifts I gave,
I was yet to please him dead,
I gave my rivals befitting houses of sorrows with my lying arrows as my wrath residues,
No morrows, as my bow bows them into my memories of victory stairs,

See,
I’ve been in this game for so long,
Long before Seth was born as another son ceded,
Playing with my breathe as my life solemn song,
Yet,
I had not gone passed the dawn of game seven,
And this was no Seth’s based ball,

The summer sage started,
When the first boomerang of teenage battle, unlatched my belt and I stumbled into some piles of dirty lies,
My chest cage got broken when I mistook the right turn for the rest, having the same look as the dust after hauling down to the earth,
The crowd’s laughter grew,
As I made futile efforts to move with my trousers down clogging my boots,
This was no goodness of peace running through my restless veins,
It was vain to shield myself from this day waiting to happen,

Finally with just one slingshot,
My hard hat headed off my head,
And I couldn’t think straight,
It was obvious that I was unsafe,
I was the lad who brought a pen knife to a sword fight,
My only gifted weapon passed down from my elder brother who departed before the age of impart,
I could only keep his last statement which was..
One word of believe from,
Your lips and this penknife becomes a sword,

But as I said,
This day with the weeks following it became the years,
I was not thinking straight,
I mean whose youngster would read Eph6:10-17 and relate a thing?
So there I was unclad ,
A master at pleasing my audience,
This misery of mine became a life series served as an appetizer to Death’s main dish,

My only hope was found in two windows
One of which was an opportunity at game seven and the other, my escape plan,
This was the chance, Death never had,
A chance become the hero within these black holes,
A chance to experience the real joy,
All I needed was a new war dress,
To address this life’s mess,
I needed to get my head straight,
To speak out that Living word of believe,
I needed to guard my heart’s cage to decide what was right and just best,
My belt so tight, I would be smart enough to deliver this truth,
My boots ever ready to tell others there could be a new you,
A faith to shield all these armors cause dead men tell no ,tales,

And so here I am,
A gladiator with a different profession,
Fighting man’s spiritual beast,
Casting down every imagination that exalts itself against the knowledge of my new found Truth,
I bleed my penknife into a sword every time I speak,
My confession has been a salvation in deed,
I am the young star who reads Eph6:10-17 and relates even with 18,
Death’s sting option was quiet late,
So whenever I win these daily battles,
I prove that the Truth already had the victory in the war,
And right now, I’m gaining mastery of this course.

Hannah
© 2018

PRIEST

Your heels are cracked
And journey untracked
You can’t retrace your steps
And so into more misery you step
Each turn leads to different tunnels
The torns you encounter a lesson
But the essence of lessons are lost
When there are no opportunities to retreat

So further you go into the woods
Waiting for salvation, deliverance
Little did you know that the well
You just discovered will dry up by morning
Your sanity is threatened
And so you become a church
And your priest
Take therefore no thought for the morrow

Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof’
But the evil is too much for one day
The human says
Back and forth
The priest proposes
The human opposes
It is well
Such a lousy cliche

Human more a realist than the priest
However you can’t let him win
Your life depends on his loss
You bet what you have not on your Priest
Flipping pages and making incantations
This is no mini war
Your life depends on it
Through the tug of war

You add more power to your Priest’s line
Pushes and pulls
Until the line is crossed
And its your Priest lying on his back
And just then
You knew you would survive

ChyD

(c) 2018

ONLY HUMAN

The story ends the same
No dime for this prediction
Inadvertently, the head remains on top
Experience is not the best teacher
Perhaps this next person will be different
Too sweet not be swept off
Way different from my last mistake
But mistakes come in different shades of grey
Some shades more obvious than others
Nevertheless, this may be a lighter shade of grey

You’ll need brooms and mobs
It has been a while this heart was used
The key hole rusty and needs lubrication
The key dumped in a dump of keys
So Mister, I hope you are as patient as you claim
Trail begins and as my drum of key reduces
And his drum of sweat increases
Alas the keys exhaust and no one fits
You must have missed the right key
In no particular order
Frustrated ransack unfolds
My heart hurts from this careless handling
Enough!
I can’t blame you for meeting a rusty heart
I understand you tried
You are only human

A ban to avoid a rebound
But I wouldn’t wanna let a good man go
So let’s go
You look skilled and smart
Are those tools for picking locks
Because keys don’t unlock my heart
That smirk on your face shows you know your way around
A tweak here and there
Alas, this is the very first time I’ll be accessed this fast
But you didn’t unlock a gold mine
You unlocked a dumpster
Grab that broom Mister left
Hold on
Your eyes are teary
The wheezing sound you are making
You can’t be here
Go get some air
It’s not your fault you are asthmatic
I understand you tried
You are only human

Some time to mourn
That’s the end
Then tagged along a real man
Not flashy like the rest
But it’s high time I switched tastes
Big rough hands can surely clear this dumpster
You won’t be needing a broom
Grab a rake let’s get to work
The filth makes me sick
A lot of baggage I have to carry around
It leaves no space for inhabitants
Raise the table, revenge
Raise the cushions, pain
Keep raising, keep discovering
Why are you jumpy
Why is your heart racing
Oh you hate crawling things
How would you not expect mice and likes in a place like this
I’ll spare you
Go
I understand you tried
You are only human

Don’t seat there and judge me
I would clean myself if my eyes can see my back
This is where the journey ends
But hold on
I hear of an invisible superhero
I’m not one to see marvel comics
But they say he’s justice league summed up and more
There’s nothing to lose so why not
After introduction
We kick off chatting
The first thing he tells me, I love you
Hollup!!!
You must be fast and furious
Be turbo for a while
Day after day he proves it
When I throw my tantrums, he stays
When mice and likes run past, he stays
He doesn’t mind staying in my dumpster
But with each conversation we have, nuisances disappear
His words are vacuum cleaner
Systematically he sucks up the dirt
Plants flowers and have butterflies dance around
All trash that keep me down is gone
Now I fly
Where humans fail, the invisible superhero thrives
I understand he wins
He was human, now God!

ChyD

(c) 2018

RENEGADE

I hear the door creek,
It’s banged lock.
I wake up from my sleep,
It’s all dark,
I try to move my feet,
It feels stuck.
I try to move my hands,
I feel ropes.

That’s when I realize,
That I am trapped by ropes and chains,
To a chair of endless pain
And I don’t even remember my name.

How can that be,
There has to be a reason why they have me,
No way my name was “Mr. Kidnap me”,
I had to be important of some sort,
That’s why they needed to grab me.

For a moment I listen,
There’s not even the slightest sound in the distance,
For a little while I struggle,
Hopeful to get free from painful sorrow.

Choicelessly, I choose the obvious,
To scream till even the walls decide to pay attention,
Frankly, I don’t even know if walls exist,
Or if this is all just in my head.
How could there be no sound but me in the distance,
How could no one have even heard.

I feel the chains tighten across my chest,
The pines an inch deeper into my legs,
This is hell,
Frankly I’m exhausted,
After all, my blood is all wasted,
Let me just die, after all at burials I always feasted.

And just at this moment,
This moment when I am done fighting and chose to sign out,
This moment when I don’t even have strength to cry out,
This moment I finally choose to die out.

I doubt you would believe it,
At this moment I don’t believe it,
There’s a shadow trying to be reaching in,
Yes a shadow.

Frankly the darkness is now shallow,
The light only my eyes can try to follow,
For there’s just little life the darkness didn’t swallow.

Till this moment,
I didn’t recall,
That till I choose LEFT,
I was the child of THE KING.

National Poet

(c) 2018

Our love

Our love tale started like soaking cannabis in hot water. I took a sip. You did likewise. The sole of our feet got baptised in this fever that got our tummies beating the African drums. We looked each other in the eyes, we found dark universe surrounded by a red sea. We could see what love is all about; two heads that one is better than. We felt like screaming but the fear that the onlookers would tag us mad forced us into each other’s arm.

You could hear my heart beating. It was not the Jazz you love. My heart made music, the kind Mozart made. You said it made you dull. But that was my whole life. I tried to let my eyes speak volumes of poetry anthologies but all you heard was words poorly knitted. You smiled. Not the type of smile you decorated the sky with the first day I stood before you as a stuttering child, fearful but determined to let you know that butterflies only visits your garden.

I prayed we never recovered from this euphoria. This state of having the moon constantly using our name in the lullaby it is singing. I told of the symphonies composed by the crickets and frogs ( hiding in the near by bush) in our favour. You said I was silly. Not that kind of silly. You meant that I stole your heart with my madness. I was happy. At least, someone has finally got me in the list of men who parade the face of earth with careless abandon of what lips would say. You were the earthquake my soul yearned for.

That was when you told me of a fairy land. I was the ragged prince and you the princess living in a mansion of a castle. You told me that I was the male Cinderella. I agreed. You made me to be born again. It is no metaphor. You turned me to a suckling praying that I will forever remain at your breast…

Simeon Chidi

(c) 2018