If you’re mad and you know you’re mad
Are you mad?
If you’re sad and you know you’re sad
Why don’t you smile?
If you’re bad and you know you’re bad
Then you know what’s good –
If you’re glad and you know you’re glad
Share it and make someone else smile.
Life is going by so quick
Not just the individual life of you and me
Sometimes one has this strange feeling
That humankind itself also
Won’t be here forever
Our species too will die out
Inspite – or because – of all our great knowledge.
One by one, we will bury each other
And after the last sister has buried her last brother
Her final prayer before she too quietly departs
Will be that God forgive all our human hearts
For not understanding on time
That only Love furnishes the perfect last rhyme.
Santa and Satan are spelled with the same letters.
I just noticed it, please don’t crucify me.
Just know there’s a thin line between the two.
Sometimes when you think you’re looking out through a window, you’re actually looking at a mirror.
Saw this picture and liked it.
Something is buried in your heart and it could be anything. It’s probably everything.
Some pains will stay forever – well, probably not forever. Until you change and forgive and let go. Or until you die, I mean really die. Even when you forget, still you feel the pain and don’t know why. And then you remember – but you still don’t know why you took that first wrong step into the future.
But when you look at the serpent well, sometimes it seems as if it’s rising up to strike or writhing in treachery and deception. And sometimes it feels as if it’s begging for help and crying for forgiveness and looking for redemption. But some unsuspecting fool will pass by and think they’re looking at a heart. But you know better. You know you’re looking at a warning.
If heaven were but a grain
Of those arms on which I was once lain
And only a mere faint echo
Of that inspiration which has become my life-long shadow
Then claim me kiss of death
That upon your hearth
Mother Again will be my first breath
And I’ll never crave rebirth.
It is between Scylla and Charibdis
For me to start to describe what it is
To eternity in the warmth of a bossom
And the gentle resourcefulness of a flower in blossom
So comforting and caring
So loving and true
This comes straight from my heart:
Mother, I love you.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije
I wrote this poem for my mother when I was 16. Today, almost three decades later, the words still hold true.