Keine Zeit für Bullshit
Mein Feind trägt nicht nur fremde Haut
Er sieht auch aus, wie ich
Auch das sage ich, und ich sage es laut

Die äußere Gleichart brachte uns
So weit, daß wir gegenseitig
Die fehlende innere Gleichart erkannten
Und suchen sie nun anderweitig.

Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Im Jahrzehnt der deutschen Dichtung


Sie grüßte ihn gerne
Setzte sich jedoch gerne
Zu ihrer Art –

Er arbeitet gerne mit ihr
Feiert allerdings lieber
Mit seiner Art –

Gleich und gleich gesellt sich gern
Doch in unserem inneren Part, weich
Funkelt einsam in jedem ein Stern

Sie liegt nachts wach
Er liegt nachts wach
Und jeder sehnt sich schweigend nach
Der inneren Gleichart.

Che Chidi Chukwumerije
2019: Das Jahr der deutschen Dichtung


Environmental and spatial Beauty starts with Intuition, Art and Imagination. When you imagine it, draw it, design it, form it and then outwardly build it after that Image. Then suddenly you have outwardly what you crave and imagine inwardly. What you sense inwardly.

As simple as this may sound, this is the key to quantum leaps and to infinite development. This is the assurance that the boundaries of Genius will always be crossed, as long as we continue to march through Time, guided deeply by Intuitive Perception. Space is flexible, and bendable to Imagination and Inspiration.

Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Environmental and spatial beauty start with Art and Imagination. When you imagine it, draw it, design it and then outwardly build it after that image – then you suddenly have outwardly what you crave and imagine inwardly.

As simple as this may sound, this is the key to quantum leaps and to infinite development. This is the assurance that the boundaries of Genius will always be crossed and thus extended intermittently as long as we continue to march through Time. Space is flexible, and bendable to Imagination and Inspiration.

New Nations will always arise from time to time; and groups of people will receive new insights into outworkings of the fundamental thought, and find a new characteristic of Matter and of engineering space – that is, they will find an old fact but it will seem new to them because it will supercede the knowledge available to them in their era.

The abstract is the Petri dish of the concrete, imagination is the fertile breeding ground of reality. To kill a people, kill their imagination and make them into a nation of copycats. Praise them when they copy others, and give them prizes, awards and honors when they copy others very well. But when they attempt to be innovative, to produce new thoughts, to toy with new ideas, to experiment with new possibilities, then ridicule them.

When they choose not only to copy or be inspired by that which is trending, but to create that which is different and not (yet) popular, when they decide not to follow follow, but to open new paths, then ostracize them, mock them, sideline them, punish them and hurt their ego and do not finance them. At the very least, ignore them. Soon they will abandon the path of difficult authentic growth and blend into the game of joining the train and going anywhere the train is going, but never going their own way or birthing new things.

But if you want to uplift a people, then liberate their spirit. Because human was not made for the sabbath, but the sabbath was made for human. If time waits for no-one, then no-one should wait for time either. It is not imagination that should adjust itself to reality, but reality should bend to imagination in order to keep on elevating itself. Matter, at its highest, can still only be the cloak of spirit. As the spirit wills it, so the universe will execute it reciprocally upon the spirit. Unfortunately, even when the spirit is willing, still the flesh – the brain, the earthling in flesh and blood – is weak.

That’s why we fight wars, and seek to oppress, dominate and ostracize each other. That is the origin of racism, bigotry and extremism. This is the cause of the stagnation of human civilization despite all illusions of technological flight. Weakness. It has its origin not in strength, but in weakness; inner weakness. The inability to really imagine and intuitively perceive Paradise and then to build it on Earth.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


van gogh 1

There are days
Grey is my colour
My fist is an empty net
My loneliness is trapped within
My lost lines

There are nights
Black is my colour
My mind is full of melancholy
My heart remembers it’s broken
My hope gone

Blue is the island
An oasis of seeking shade
Shade of hue and colours somewhere
On the horizons of intuition

Yellow is the fire
A symbol of promised growth
Rays invisible yet warming
The seed pushing towards light

For in my every dark hour
Every colour is comfort
Every form is transformation
Spirit, never stop looking
For Art.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije and Dormis Aeternitas


This Poem is a Duet I wrote together with Dormis Aeternitas, a wonderful poet.

Visit his blog to read more of his enchanting work.

Picture: Section of Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night”


Art in all its forms
Is the thief of time
Stealing from the past
Sharing with the present
And the future
Like Robin Hood
For time is wealthy in memory
And, like Shylock, reluctant to give.

An evening song will reawaken your life’s morning
A painting will view like déjà vu from lives unremembered
And a poem will whisper your life’s story back to you.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Be kind to people
Let kindness be your all, your strength, your gift
Your highest art-form, beyond craft
For you are human

Kindness is life
Kindness is the root of eternity smile
Kindness can move mountains
Can conquer pain
Gives us comfort in our hour of desolation
Kind eyes keep the heart alive

Kindness conquered me
Let kindness conquer you too
Become a servant of kindness
Become a master of hearts.

The naïve are not always naïve
Sometimes they are simply grateful to kindness
For kindness shown and kindness received
And now they too are passing kindness on to others
For one who has been saved by kindness
Will serve kindness evermore

Nothing sets a human heart free
Like the heartbeats of kindness deep within
Sometimes it’s difficult, sometimes it’s easy
Sometimes you forget, sometimes you remember

And in the moment of your death
It will be your acts of Unkindness that haunt you
And make you long for another life, another chance…

And it will be your acts of kindness
And the acts of kindness shown to you
That comfort you, give you hope
And show you the way into life after death

You are not alone.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


There is in me a very soft spot for naked tables and chairs, pens and empty sheets of paper, and a feeling that if I do not write the poem write now, it will never come again. It is a very special soft spot and very dear to me, sees me through lonely nights and empty restless days and times of unfocused focus and focused unfocus and is much better than many other a pleasure.

The heart is inside, the voice outside, and a strong voice without a heart is as baseless as the pointlessness of a voiceless heart, burning and knowing and mute. I have a very soft spot in me for that quick tender urge that would have me run again, a pen upon waiting sheets, a snow-lion stalking buried treasures, a singer learning and singing new songs, simultaneously.

Water is the king and when your heart runs like water, poetry becomes an uncheckable force – everywhere you hear it… everywhere you hear it. It follows you, it enters you, it captures you until you have mastered yourself in it, then it sets you free to roam again. Yes, this is my jungle.

I have in me a so soft spot for that glowing star, yonder flame that has decided to call me Home. Yes, Song, let it ring, and with my life I will follow, poet and musician and man. There was a beginning but, I vow, there shall be no end to eternal tenderness inside you and me.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.