frankfurt

INNENSTADTBLUES

~ Che ~ 11 Comments

So, ich war wieder in der Stadt
Einkaufen gegangen und wieder am Rande
Des Wahnsinns zurück
Nach Hause gekommen.

Niemand hat mich beleidigt oder geärgert
Niemand hat mich angelabert
Niemand hat mich verletzt oder angegriffen
Niemand hat mich wahrgenommen oder ignoriert
Doch war ich wund
Als ich wieder zu Hause war.

Die Musik holt mich langsam runter
Blues, Innen wird’s sanft bunter
Musik macht mich munter
Geschlossene Türe kurz genießen, aber
Die Innenstadt ist wie ein Liebhaber
Den wieder zu treffen ich mich freue
Den wieder zu verlassen ich mich freue
So was nennen Verrückte wahrscheinlich die Treue.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

AM MAIN

~ Che ~ 3 Comments

Ich verschwinde manchmal
In meine schwimmende Reflektion
Mein ungewisses Mahnmal
Aufs Neue lallend Denk mal
Am Wasser neige ich zur Konfession.

Ich bin dann fremder Gast
In meiner eigenen Seele
Andere Passanten ahnen fast
Den schweren Strom der Last
Der gewürgten Beichte in meiner Kehle.

Aufschauend durch die Flusswellen dieses Gewichtes
Empfange ich die gebrochenen Strahlen des Lichtes
Empfange ich die gebrochenen Strahlen des Lichtes.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

PASSING LOOK

~ Che ~ 2 Comments

A blind man walked into the busy tram
His cane tapped audibly on the wall
Of many a closed mind –

There was an unsteady way he shuffled about
Stumbled, and then clutched the railing
Without letting go of his staff, still swaying

In his other hand three polyethylene bags
Full of his grocery – I tried but
Could not read the look on his calm face.

I hate it when the conversations die,
He must be thinking, I’m thinking
As the whole tram stared at him

But he could not stare back.
Two stops later, he gingerly tapped his way
Out of the tram, his face calm, illegible.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

RETIREMENT

~ Che ~ 5 Comments

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.

IN THE NAME OF MUSIC

~ Che ~ Leave a comment

Broken chords
Broken locks
The open is gate
The soft is music
The lost is world
Lost and found
In the name of music
In the name of love.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.