Nothing can satisfy me –
No book, no woman, nothing on earth
Can still my thirst
I will die
But my thirst will live forever
I will die
But my thirst will live forever…
No vice, no love, nothing
Is enough
Nothing will ever be enough
This thirst will live forever
And thirst in me forever more…
And never satisfy me.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
A leaf…
Trembling in
The wind –
I
Through life move
With half-open eyes
That fail to see the other
Side…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
They were not decorations on our wall
We were shadows on theirs
Flickering like candle thoughts
Gathering, falling and dispersing
Like broods of clouds
When we stand across the divide
Looking at each other, it’s hard to tell
Who is real
And who is the figment of whose imagination.
Writer, did you write your book
Or did your book write you?
Artist, did you paint that look
In the eye of the portrait watching you
Or are you just a thought in its mind?
If you look, sometimes you will find
That the musician is the instrument
And the song is the conductor of his movement.
And when an architect erects a building
He is only doing so to house therein his restless feelings.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The tree you planted in my heart
Has grown strong…
The longer we remain apart
The more to each other we belong…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
swallow that pride
step aside
that narrow heart, it is a road
open it wide
lei in that sunshine
look out the window
that thing out there that makes you
feel so good, it is light
and you’ve got it in your eyes
sometimes, locked away
i espy the large grey cloud
i understand that you are proud
is it so hard to let go?
to let those feelings show?
guess it must really be hard or
you would have done it long ago –
i see it in your eyes.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
We are so strongly influenced
By the form of what we see
That we lose sight of a sense
Of what its true content could be
Who would ever guess
That in a cocoon sleeps a butterfly
Or that the greatest devil of all
Looks like an angel in the sky?
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The way is “how”
Even more than “what”
Even more than “where”
“What” without “how”
Is religion, is dogma
Will chain the spirit
“Where” instead of “how”
Will never lead to
The answer of “why”
For it is the doing
By oneself that yields alone
The personal Understanding of “How”
Just do to me that thing
That makes my spirit light
And, deep in me, I’ll understand
The way
Who needs teachers
When we’ve got horses?
Just teach me how to ride
Or I’ll learn it myself
Then we’ll ride out together
And see for ourselves
What the world has to offer to
Seekers and lovers.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Often, upon many an unquiet storm
Seeking calm exits through rough unfriendly seas
I have longed for death, and then
Quickly corrected myself, for even then,
Deep within, I sensed
That death would be no end.
And I have given kindness, even though
I knew that kindness would be a signal
To those who sail the dark waters
To come in and take advantage of me.
And I have kept many a dark secret silently inside
Just to protect some people, that they be not exposed.
And I have kept my peace
So that others may have their piece
And when they did not turn around
To say thank you, I have continued
To be that way still
For I know no other way to be.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Sometimes it seems
As though the valley were the
Mountain-peak,
The mountain-peak the valley
Sometimes it seems
That to arrive at the valley
I must first arrive at the mountain-peak
And, sometimes, to arrive
At the mountain-peak, I must
Arrive at the valley
Which is the valley
Which the mountain and
Which the peak? –
Sometimes, Baby, it seems
As though to find you I must leave you…
And sometimes it seems as though
When I want to leave you
I’ll only end up again by your side
Sometimes, when I am Dreaming
I think I am awake –
But I have never once thought myself a dreamer,
Not even while I dreamt.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
There is something
I want to write
– this has happened to me before –
That is:
It is the poet who wants to write it
While I, the pen,
Am yet in the dark
I only feel the heat of inspiration
The dark ink, flowing
The red blood, going
Somewhere
The wind, blowing…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 