You never let the sun rise
Without it too making a compromise
Truths are protected by subtle lies
Give a little, grieve a little
Always grease a lot, take it all
In the spirit of we-sacrifice
Taboo and sacrilege you court
Hiding from safe place to safe place
Waving to your constituent electorate
But wait!, it’s a game, right?
Well played. You won again.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
The tension is mounting
The spring is wound
The wind is waiting
The tornado is forming, is coming
Is come.
Pain is the voice
Of the garden in you
Inviting you to come into it
There to discover the newest treasure
It has prepared for you
Upon its peaks.
How far can you go?
How long can you walk a path?
How come?
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
They say twisted minds don’t believe
When the way is straight
They draw back suspiciously and
Wait for wile and guile, to smile
The stiff alarm I ignored you
New you were lying, but still old you close
Paperminting fresh notes, suckers
That will get laid but won’t get paid
Flesh throaters singing of tribulation
I love to whip your twisted mind
Tongue lashes, reams of read streams
Streaks you shriek! Dream lines of silence scream.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Silence will roll into silence
When your heart, for miles,
Lonely, clothed in the essence
Of sorrow shed in every sense
But one…,
Arises before your countenance
And, despite sorrow, smiles –
Fresh Food for your sustenance,
Fresh impetus for the long distance
You run…
Do you hear the rolling silence?
If you listen and listen hard
To Silence, the deeper bard;
Just listen, listen in hard…
Do you hear the rolling silence?
Silence will roll into silence
When the pain in you
Has crossed the line into convalescence
And the Horizon’s in view.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Alive in your grave
I hear your thoughts
Squirm
Unruffled by your
Poker mug
Two black stones
Sprout
On your grave head
Pierce my soul’s louvres
Shivers me alive.
Cold come forth
I need your warmth
– gently!
Exhume me…
With care.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
A true Nigerian is someone who is constantly insulting his country – apart from when he is conversing with a Ghanaian, a Kenyan or a South African, or any other African for that matter.
In this case he insults their countries. After hours of reciprocal insults of each others’ countries, they go to a bar and have a drink together, and rejoice at having been born Africans. Then they part again, but not without first making an appointment for the next meeting in which to make fun of each others’ countries again.
Afterwards, the Nigerian goes back home to his fellow Nigerians and starts insulting Nigeria all over again; while doing so he praises the other African countries and laments that they are all making progress much faster than Nigeria.
This kind of behaviour, in Nigeria, is looked upon as intellectual patriotism.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
There is a slitherer
Snaking without fear
For he owns your urges
Like thirst owns the night
Like Guilt owns sight
Like frustrations delight owning
Like we argued about seeking distance
And about seeking closeness
And said I don’t fucking care
Just so we would not say
I love you, you are mine
Don’t sleep with him, don’t sleep with her, Baby.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Diamonds and pearls
Gold, frankincense and myrrh
Silver and jewels
Precious stones, rubies, crystals
Treasures…
Beauty is a thing of the Spirit
It reminds the spirit of its home
And gives it the incentive
To come back home.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I think I definitely lost something
A better me
I hold a promise locked somewhere in my soul
But I’ve forgotten what it is
I know not how to unlock it
It is gone
Gone home.
Imagine
You are walking and
Walking and walking and walking
And
Walking and walking
And suddenly you make out something
In the distance –
But it is silent all around you
No life, no flowers, no birds
Only a dusty sun…
When you get to the object
You find that it is a tombstone
A silent grave undustied
In the middle of the desert
And your name is written on it
There
Waiting for you
In the middle of nowhere –
What do you do?
Thirsty soul
Hungry for love
Dying for the water of life
You stand for a long time
And stare down at your
Resting place.
But when you looked up
You saw
Gleaming above a distant hill
The green back of a yellow sun
Not dusty
Not lost…
What do you do?
Lay down in your grave
And die?
Or leave your name behind
And continue to walk
You talk to yourself
I hear you I hear you
Talking to yourself
Like a mad woman…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
I saw suddenly one day that there on our face is a mask. Strange, but it moved. It spoke. It smiled. It frowned. It scolded. And it watched the world obliquely.
And the last thing it will tell you is that it is a mask.
And only love can break into this mask and comprehend its bearer. And only love can break into this mask and be comprehended by its wearer.
And then to my horror I saw that every continent has its masks. Every race, every group and every face. But whoever is unmasked by love is masked by love.
And love can speak, can comprehend every tongue. And on the day we have all learned to speak the language of true love – respectful, selfless love – we shall have no more the need to mask our hearts anymore.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 