I know a girl
She loves to pray
And everytime we kiss
She runs away in shame
Because I don’t fit into her world
And she can’t look her leader
In the eye
When I’m on her mind.
Is your river flowing?
Should I… check again?
So she runs far away
And in the distance we can
Pretend
That she’s stronger than Shame –
She’s ashamed of herself
For not being herself.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The pen is mightier
Than the sword
If only writers knew
The meaning of this word
Going forward, going backward
Those who seek vengeance
Through the use of the pen
Are writing their own sentence
Regret won’t heal the pain
Regret won’t heal the pain
My friend
So tread lightly in the rain
And softly sing
And softly sing
For when the verse is over
You’ll be the one to compose again
A new chorus to start over
And when you live again
Your life will be a book of stories
And everything you wrote
Will line your path with pain
Or shame or gladness or glory.
Some kill themselves by the sword
But most commit suicide by their own word.
Some live by the sword,
SOme die by the word
And vice versa.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Don’t ask me why I did it
You won’t get any answer
That makes any sense to you
I did it ‘cause I’m a dancer
Don’t ask me what kind of music
Plays underneath my propensities
The same hand fingering fine violins
Also thumbs the base of depravities
Don’t ask me how I can bear it
To be sometimes day, sometimes night
It is the fault of the sun
Who keeps me spinning around
Now I love being spun around
Locked in a battle that can’t be won
And can’t be lost, I love the light
Sometimes, and sometimes I fear it.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Some smoke grass
Some cut grass, they love to mow the lawn
Some play in grass
Some spread a blanket on the grass
And sleep in the sun –
What a waste of grass.
When I see grass, I touch it
I stroke it, tickle it, sniff it, blow it gently
Then I grab it, clutch it with my full fist
And pull it hard until she cries
Then slowly I part it
And slide my snakes into
The deep dark pool of thirst
Lurking beneath your moist grass
Like a longing craving for primeval release
Grass makes me high, so high
So fucking high…
When I see the grass
I shall pass over you
And plant my seed.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I like to hear you…
Don’t keep it in – let it out
If it’s too strong for a whisper
Baby, shout.
Breathe in my Need
Breathe out your every doubt
The sun sets, the Moan rises
Douses my drought.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I met a girl in the dark
I’m hurt, she said, hurt me
You’re singing in riddles, I said
She shook her head intensely
Her eyes were full of things she could not say
I’m in pain, she moaned, give me more
Crooked words lead straight to truth
Those who love each other hurt each other
And die wanting each other, immortally.
– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.
In the night
Through the walls grown ears
I heard her vulgarly vigorously
Verbing the Noun
In tense sounds from the gutter.
In the morning
When masks grew faces
We passed each other in breakfast hallway
Polite good mornings, prim and properly
Breading smooth butter.
– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.
She loves pain
To feel it I mean
Like earth loves rain
To feel it she says
Hurt me before you love me
Hurt me if you love me
Pain is my mantle
Break it open to reach me
Light my candle
Read my signals I’m screaming
Half her lovers think she’s joking
Until she ups and walks away
The other half keep her running
Round and round in circles
Seeking silence.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Let the bloody bougainvillea
Weight not down your heavy-laden shoulders
With the multitude of its crimson little hearts
For beauty can be a burden
When ugliness is your desire
Your ardent craving – throbbing need.
Remember those nights
When you were the night and the night
Was the restless insomniac
And you threw the petals of the rose away
And yearned for the thorns instead
And the thorn was your rose.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
She can’t have the one she wants
So she loves a thousand in his stead
And leaves broken hearts in her wake
He can’t own his one true love
So he seeks her in a thousand others
Many broken mirrors of the one he can’t take
They stand on opposite sides of the lake
My oh my; their hearts, how they ache
Unable in the salty water their thirst to slake.
– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 