How frail the body
How it ages
And falls to sickness prey
And life is as a day…

If you send me pictures and reports
Of you enjoying material things
And hope to thereby impress me
Or make me envious
Would you still have the depth of perception to understand
That I pity you?

Send me a greeting to say
How are you? I wish you well…
Then will I see therein your Height
Like an arrow to the heart
That humbles and heals my Spirit.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


When the sadness
Coloured the smile
Of the musician’s sunshine
I saw that his joy
Had just got deeper
And the unshed tears
Longing in his eyes
Were less bitter
Than they were bittersweet
To my ears
Music to my heart
Water to my soul – his sorrow
Became the joy of my spirit flame.
That was when I saw him smile
That broke my heart.



One land’s poor man
Is another land’s rich man
It’s all relative
How many meals do you need to be hungry?

One school’s teacher
Is another school’s student
It’s all relative
How much knowledge do you need to be ignorant?

One court’s free man
Is another court’s prisoner
It’s all relative
How many laws do you need to have injustice?

One era’s inventor
Is another era’s copycat
It’s all relative
One religion’s wise man
Is another religion’s fool
It’s all relative
One heart’s sorrow
Is another heart’s happiness
It’s all relative
One man’s woman
Is another woman’s man
It’s all relative
One nation’s outcast
Is another nation’s promised helper.

It all depends
On what you need
Some want the flesh of the fruit
Some crave its inner seed.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


I’m not talking
To the part of you you can control
With your thinking
Switch off and on in your soul

Two conversations run parallel
Unaware of one another
Just like politics debates but can’t foretell
Human laws of spirit and nature

Bend my mind and bend me back
When you leave, leave your truth behind
Worlds and worlds and worlds of meaning
That nourish slowly my mind.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


A stitch in time saves nine. –
Where are the nine in need of salvation if the one has already been saved? Find one good person in Sodom and Gomorrah, and destruction will be stayed – one good person. Just one. Is there a good person on earth?

All that glitters is not gold. –
Why aren’t they all gold if they all glitter like gold? And why does gold glitter, were it not also gold? Gold glitters because it is gold. But humans glitter because they are not gold. Good people are silent, walking unnoticed. Golden hearts do not require additional glitter to shine. The shine inside.

In November, trees and people reveal who they really are. –
In the eleventh hour, the power of humans to deceive shall begin to fail, and Creation’s autumn shall brutally strip all naked and cold, and we shall see ourselves as we are. If I deceive you, I will come naked to you tomorrow, asking for warmth. Please clothe me.

Every saying is wise, but it would be very unwise of their poets to presume themselves in any way to be sages or wise people. That would be foolishness.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


A wishing star slid across the nightsky yesterday while we all slept, it went and we missed it. A strange and beautiful, gentle, sea-creature, never before seen, surfaced briefly out of the Pacific two fullmoons ago. It stayed upon the waters for a few weeks and then disappeared again into the mysterious depths from which it came, and nobody but nobody saw it.

A new bird appeared briefly in the noonsky and vanished in the blink of an eye, and nobody saw what happened. You did not understand the tongue he spoke, and by the time you did he was already speaking another tongue, you missed it and it was gone, whatever it was he first said in that first tongue.

The moment always holds the greatest treasures, spark-lightning, flashes of pure intuition, a brief something between the eyes, and if you did not see it while it lived, you never know it ever did.

How many times? How many times, my dear? How many more times?

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Deep music is sailing over the mountains and into the hearts of lonely people far away. Over the mountains – over the mountains – the sight is glorious and gone. Much is gone that was here yesterday. I feel like an old man, waiting to die. But, rather than wait, why don’t I just spread my wings and fly again, like I did when I was young.

The earth is not my home. The earth is not my home, but my way home. Over the mountains, over the mountains, all is happy. It came and went so quickly. But I do not mind. Because what joy did not finish, pain shall. And vice versa.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.