You read me with your sixth sense That’s going too far, I settle for less I read you with my primitive sense My pre-sense Half of all communication is unintended Life is beautiful if we express it And even more beautiful if we let it express itself Through us in us as us for us to us with us Inspite of us You are a poem writing itself daily Your spirit, your thoughts, your emotions, your body Are flowing with the inner river Drawn to me With the purest of primitive intentions. Che Chidi Chukwumerije Poems from the inner river
craving
GRASS
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.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 