The strange bird
Strangely heard
Their fear as a song for which
It had no dance-steps
Their hatred as a tongue for which
It had no dictionary
All it had was its strangeness
And its strangeness was its Dance
And its book of many Meanings.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Faces of strangers
Phases of enmity
A look is fuller than a book
Brevity is the soul of it
Hatred is a virus
It lies low for generations
Then breaks out with the new youth
Like a message stored in the DNA
Unbroken.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Bold of heart and stonecold must you be
And extraordinary too, gentle one
If in these days the bad news on TV
Doesn’t strike fear into that heart of yours!
Because mankind is still not free.
But listen, listen to me now, lamb and dove
The hour approaches when on a dark empty street
You shall be the last lantern still shinning as from above
And no-one, not even you, will understand fully why
In these days of hatred your heart grows stronger with human love.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Watch that hatred bang
Its head on the wall
Watch it struggle against a bridge
Over a gorge, dig a hole and fall
Hear it, baffled, ponder into the night.
The middle is thinning out into left and right
I know you don’t believe in the light
Because it’s hard to believe in something
You don’t understand –
It’s safer to hate in numbers
For the logic of hatred is easy to comprehend
Only a few will be left standing
After love has conquered the land.
Tread soft, haters, you’re walking on quicksand.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The drums of war are sounding
The dead are readying to dance a dirge
Upon the graves of the living
Quarrelling woman to Solomon has spoken
If I won’t have world peace my way
Then tear the child to pieces
Those who crave world dominion
Are set to fight to the end to end
The culture of mixed opinions
The world grows dark with worry
And mothers clutch their babes to their breasts
And lovers fear what tomorrow will bring.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Sand for breakfast
Tasted no better than shit
I don’t beg for alms anymore
I just snatch it
My mother’s tears
Son I did not bring you up to be a thief
Mom you didn’t raise me to suffer in poverty, did you?
I just want some relief.
Sometimes they look out of their cars
Our eyes meet
I wonder if they ever wonder
If I know the taste of meat.
If I were in their shoes
Would I mean nothing to me
If driving by I saw me chained by poverty
In a system that benefits only me.
– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 