The Missing Me

The garden,
fresh and full.
I wasn’t alone in the garden.

I named the tress,
I named the birds and beasts, I named the river,mountains and all things.

I was happy with all I named
But a part of me was missing inside me.

I looked for this part of myself in the garden
I looked at the cows
I didn’t find it

I looked at the monkeys
I didn’t find it
I looked all around
Yet I couldn’t find the missing me.

Out of frustration
I ignored a strong part of me in the ocean of nothingness.

I ignored the rhythmic vibration that this lost self keep echoing in space.

But , one day
I slept soundly as usual
In my wood carving shade.

Maybe God came
I don’t remember
But the tortoise affirms
That He opened my body and took a rib to create the missing me for me.

Now standing tall
Standing fulfilled
Standing whole
I have found my entire self.

Ugwu David C. ©2023

Fear

Fear was my challenge,
It was the beast that stared at my dreams,
And I stared back at it with fury,
With no beauty in my eyes,
Fear was a beast but I was no beauty.

Fear tried to prey on my purpose,
It threaten all of my existence,
But I found Confidence in him who for Ages existed,
I found Christ.
He made a Lioness with an intimidating aura of self worth.

Princess Pirinye
©2021

THE GAY MISCONCEPTION

It is routine for the ‘boys’ to take turns in getting the bill after each hang out. Today, Ugonna got the bill and after the jabs and hearty humorous perks, it was time to go home. As they got up to leave, Arinze with a smirk placed his hands on Ugonna’s shoulder and said, ‘Thanks dear’.
‘God punish you there’, said Ugonna violently shrugging off his hand.
The rest of the group exploded in hysterical laughter including Arinze. Ugonna joined in almost immediately. There was a silent understanding of what just transpired.

Something similar happened some time ago at work. My colleague and I noticed two guys holding hands. We fixated on their hands waiting for them to unlock their grip in time for us to conclude it is usual but they didn’t indulge our expectation.

‘I thought guys don’t hold hands for too long’, my colleague whispered. ‘Perhaps they are gay’. On another thought, I added ‘it may
be a normal thing’
. We went about our business and forgot all about it.

And yes! I should mention a particular encounter that I am still mad at myself over. Women hardly give me lifts (no, that’s not what I am mad at). I may be wrong to presume men give women lifts more than women give women lifts but that has been my experience. On this particular day however, a pretty lady gave me a lift. She seemed a bit older so when she asked if I was going her way, I said ‘yes ma’ and hopped in. ‘Please use your seat belt’. I fastened it instantly. ‘Are we supposed to wear these leg chains on the right or left leg? I noticed you are wearing yours on the right. I usually wear mine on the left leg’. I then relaxed, I giggled and told
her I didn’t think there are any rules to how it should be worn. We got into discussion on people’s perception of it as a trend and her perception of people’s perception. We talked about self-consciousness. By the time I got to where I was going to drop, I had already decided I like her and wanted her to be my friend. What do I do? Collect her number? I thought that may be
weird or overstepping of boundaries. I knew I should collect it but before I made up my mind on how to go about it, I had already said ‘thank you and have a nice day’. I watched her drive away wishing she asked for my number and only then realising we didn’t even ask each other’s names.

I wonder if this way of thought we have is as a result of societal conditioning. I bet it would have been easier to ask a guy for his number. Ugonna would have thought it cool if a girl called him ‘dear’ with a hand on his shoulder and there shouldn’t be anything gay about two guys holding hands or lingering in a hug. At a point in life however, there is usually a self-awakening for the open minded when he decides to live in accordance to his convictions irrespective of how unconventional it is.

The beauty of our individuality is masked by societal construct. Tomorrow we’ll talk about the damaging effects of living in accordance to societal expectation. Today let’s focus on not letting its rigidity infiltrate our minds with perversion.

– ChyD
(c) 2020

Sleep

Let’s talk about sleep
There is a sin in sleep
The sin of drunkenness
When men are not sober and careful
When you no longer watch and pray

Let’s talk about sleep
That which you do in closed eyes
Dark nights
When your lamp is out
When your love waxes cold

So how do you not sleep?
Watch and pray
Shut up and ponder the Word
Let your words be few
For a man of many words , is a man of deep sleep

And when you don’t sleep
You become a star
A light in the dark world of heavy sleepers
And you will extinguish darkness wherever you go
Making the Kingdom come

The LORD never sleeps and never slumbers
Learn a sober and self controlled lesson
His army is a people of an alert watching and waiting
Are you in the LORD’s army?
What are you waiting for?

The LORD gives to His beloved sleep
In His presence is joy and pleasures for ever more
This is not like the fleeting pleasures of sin
This is the orgasm of resurrection
The sleep He gives is the resurrection of a living sacrifice

While men slept, the enemy sows tars
Your old men shall dream dreams
You sleep in order to dream
This is a word for the wise at heart
A promise for them who have a track record of the fear of God

Favour Omeje
© 2020

You are worth fighting for

For a people yet to find true purpose
For those hurting hoping to be healed
For those hurting, not hoping that they’d be healed
For anyone whose effort doesn’t work out as expected
For that someone who has accepted being unaccepted
For you that has belittled your abilities

For the me that has assumed the front seats are for the bright ones and the back seat has my name on it
The me that suffers from low self esteem
Who say that I’m not worth the life I’m living

Less of myself, less of what I had dreamt
The torment of my nightmares becoming my realities…
My dear,
It was for you that the Messiah got slapped, got mocked
Got those scars
He scars are meant to scare the scarecrows in your path
Your name was part of the names he had in mind for each whip received

You are worth fighting for
An outstanding conqueror
There! I said it!

What scales have blinded the beautiful sight of how God sees you?
What ears? Ephaphtha! Be open!
He him call your name
As a people set out to break these cycles and dominate
You are washed sparkling white with his pure blood

And as Ezekiel Azonwu once said ” Pure blood is not in vein vain”
Have this invade your mind
You are worth the fight!

Azubike Hannah
© 2019

Judging the Judge

Do not judge if you do not wish to be judged
As simple as it seems, I assure you it is not
For in the deepest recesses of my mind
I already classed you… Everytime

The watch you wear, the time you spend
The monies you lend that do not compare…
To how much you are self aware.

Funny, I already judged you
You who sleeps with she(s) and wake with hymns
I’m sorry you dare not speak…you’re dim
I’ve judged you

For you think I did not know of the lies you told
Grow a pair, its getting old
And yet you judge me so

Who gave you the right to judge me? Answer me
Who gave you the right to judge me?? Answer…
Answer me, I…
I
I

Answer me.
But I… turns a deaf ear
I is self righteous
I is indignant
I is blind to me
And me does not listen to I
So I ignores you and lets this continue

I, You, Me
The tripatite judge of all who be
Seeking justification in an existence parallel to HIM

In a self created universe beyond HIS reach
Using standards we know won’t stick
Just winding down the clock with every tick

I would rather not be judged by HIM
You would rather not be judged by HIM
Me would rather not be judged by HIM
Cos HIS ways are just and would turn ours to dust

– Somto Onubogu (2019)

Evolve

Man.
Lord of the earth, unknowing.
Born Heroes; living victims.
Black Panthers scared shitless.
Superintendents gone puny.
Sad.

Man.
So primitive. So common. Like dirt.
As is the sunrise.
Aye, it doesn’t make him, nor the sunrise,
Any less a miracle; any less a beauty.
But then…

Man.
“Ye are Gods,” I heard Him say.
Creators, made He you.
But it’s sad.
You only live as pawns on a chessboard.
And you die like mere scum of the earth.
Who knew the hashtag was truth, after all.
Men are scum, indeed.

Man.
Oh, man.
Pity! PITY!
I mean, you share a last name with Deity!
With Yahweh Himself!
Oh, that you knew thyself!
And, that, to thy sweet self, you be true.

Man.
Do not your dreams whisper to you
The destiny of your race?
Do not your superheroes, your folklores, your movies
Point towards mastery?
And power?
And love?

Man.
Does not your genius, your spirit
Nudge you ever so silently
To rule from the top of the rainbow?
To conquer the sky you’ve agreed is your limit?

Who has deceived you?
Oh, man!
“Evolve, man!
Evolve!”
Eternity screams.
Immortality beckons.

But no. You’ll read this poem, this call,
And just move on.
Sadly.
Oh!
Man!

Nonso John
© 2019

Why do You fear the stars

I do NOT fear the stars
I fear the sky’s span, its depth and breath, its embrace that swallows everything my size and yours and makes them disappear into insignificance.
Do you have the slightest idea what the sky does to you, mortal man?
That scape up there, it makes you marvel. It lifts a smile unto your face, drives awe into your heart. Your feelings twinkle with the stars. You feel fly. Fly like a firefly, a little dot of light persevering in a dark world. You feel like a peacock, strutting its gaily colored stuff. Just before it gets slaughtered.
The sky’s beauty is a stolen garb woven from a trillion diamonds, the stars that hide the cold, dark, unfeeling universe beneath its ‘skin’. The rule of that universe is selfishness, its path is self-preservation, its goal is self-elevation. And no mortal has ever won against its brutish march.
Neither will you.

Neither will the stars.
Like you, millions have tried to soar past the skies. They pierced it with towers, crossed it with rockets, coursed about it with satellites.
Like you, trillions have burned bright, over eons unfathomable. They gave light and life to worlds innumerable. They were the suns of their age, the stars that stunned our forebears.
Today, they are gone. All of them. All shredded trillion bits, devoured by the same universe. And the sky, this pretty mask of a cold dark monster, keeps its sunlight front, its fraudulent smile.
And the world keeps spinning.
I do not fear the stars. I fear the wretchedness they hide.

Ikenna Nwachukwu Alexander
© 2019