Ignorance is bliss
Yet I choose torture
Nature left a space
For growth via Nurture
Pain is the price I gladly pay
To be at home in my own Skin
The sadness is without
The Lion is within.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.



See there, a stream
It flows only at night
How can this be?
Who melted my frozen pride?

Who taught me how to cry
When the night is singing?
The book of my life
The pages start revealing

Every petal of blossoming pain
The seed was mine, I broke the ground
And sealed it over with a pound of pride
Not a drop of remorse

Or so I thought.
Yet see, there, a stream
It flows at night in my loneliness
Pride thaws and falls like rains of regret.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


I am on the bird’s wing,
When it beats they say
It is my heart.
Where are you going,
Prodigal Son?

I am on the lion’s tail.
When it twitches they say
It is my pride.
Where are you going,
Rebellious Brother?

If you put your ear
To the ground
All you will hear
Is the Spirit that
Rides within.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Your secrets
Give them power over you
When you lose your fear of your secrets
They lose their power over you

No-one is feared more
Than one who says yes I did it, so what?
You can break a warrior’s shell
But you cannot make the warrior fear you as well.

Breathe out, brave one, and live some more
Your weaknesses and your strengths are all you’ve got.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Do you know that never-ending road?
Do you know that ever-increasing load?
Do you know that pain when you receive pain?
Do you know that pain when you give pain?

Do you know that quarrel that can’t be settled?
Are you sore? Bitter? Embattled?
Do you want to hurt them back?
And hurt each time you hurt them back?

How elusive it is, no matter where you look
The last page stays missing in a riddled book
Vengeance will drive you to the ends of the earth
But won’t show you the way back to your hearth.

Revenge is its very own bittersweet revenge
The irony of the avenger – cruel, sad and strange:
To be trapped, a victim of your own vendetta
And wonder why it still doesn’t make you feel better.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


His pride is on sale
And his shame
And on his broad frame
You can see him bearing his fate
With a brave face on display

Seventy years of age
All his fears have come of age
His hopes, dreams, plans, crumbled
But now he’s picked himself up again
And sits at the south train station

Easel, paint-brushes, stool, low table
But he holds his head up high
Give him a smile and a coin
And he’ll paint a portrait of you
That will stand the test of time

He: You speak good german
I: Can I write something about you?
He: Yes, but no names please. I
Have a granddaughter in Darmstadt, who
Doesn’t know what I do to survive.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


What’s behind the veil?
Nothing. The veil is your face
I don’t need a mask
My face masks my thoughts

The reason why I don’t hide things
Is because the best hiding places
Are out there in the open
That’s why you don’t see it

You don’t believe the things I tell you
Because I tell them to you
But if I were to hold them back
You would start to look for them in my Silence

And you would look and look
Until you became a prisoner of my Silence
So why don’t you appreciate it
When I just tell you in plain simple words

That I love you?
I killed you when I took off your mask
Now you want to kill me, by putting
A new different one back on.

But I already saw the girl within
Hidden deeper than shame and sin
Struggling with the pain within
And Pride is her middle name.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.