If you’re a wall
Don’t pretend to be a door
Or promise me a window
Stand tall to your word
So I can lean on you
When I’m feeling trapped
Gasping for air, seeking light
Don’t let me come running to you
Thinking you will open
I will hate you forever
But, more than that,
My trust will grow wings and fly away.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
They said, you’re silent, and when you speak, you don’t speak of the things we know you know, the things you once spoke about. You don’t preach, you don’t teach, you don’t educate, elucidate or inform.
I said I have seen it all and it’s all an illusion. Never follow high-sounding words; they always hide a lie somewhere. All I want is just to be happy.
And I said, keep searching and searching until you find the hypocrite within you; and when you have looked each other in the eye, you will learn to recognize him or her also in the people, the words and the works around you. It’s very easy to be deep and profound. It’s much more difficult to be honestly imperfect.
If you want to be happy, you can’t skip the first step. It is also the last step: honest imperfection. Leave the wise words to the teachers. You, just be happy. That’s the only thing left that I still honestly care about. The rest is just a waste of precious time at best, deception of self and others at worst.
A funny thing happened: this morning I heard a saxophone playing and it gave me more than all the wise moving words in this world ever could or did. It sang the melody of all my sins, all my hopes, all my regrets, all my joys, all the humanity within me; and in the end I knew, it is true: the inner voice is the real you.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I’ve never dated a writer
I wonder what it’s like
To both be awake, thinking
And writing in the night.
Will we share each other’s thoughts
Or keep our thoughts to ourselves?
Will we rejoice together
Or envy each other’s success?
Who will draw from whom
When both are needy?
Who will be the calming pole
When the writer gets crazy?
Who will write the greater poem
Into the book of life?
Greater than words on paper
And conquer inner strife.
Read my palm, it’s full of lines
Do not read between the lines
Between the lines are just packs of lies
Cleverly waiting to bait a writer’s eyes.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Let us be a little quiet
For the night is quiet
And still are our thoughts
That hurry on ahead of us
And in the quietness, let us
Reach each into the other
Let us for one moment be
Each a visitor within the other
Let us touch the fundamental thought
Something that is valid
On every plane, in every world
On every earth, in every Beyond
Something that is true in life
And true in death, true in hell
And true in heaven – the one thing
That is always true, everywhere.
The essence of our humanity
The substance of our spirit
The kingdom within, joy, gratitude
Simplicity, honesty, love. Especially, love.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
If a true friend is gold, are they poor that have no friends? Or rich by default, for peace of mind is also the lot of the lonely who is spared the irony of the laughter and companionship of false friends? How often have we met with a friend and parted from a stranger a short while later? In these days of sad revolutions and mixed allegations, of spying and cyber double lives, of migration without integration, of religious justice without religious love, of racial reawakening and regrouping, gender re-evaluation, of social re-engineering and hardening, there are some you will meet who will tell you that what they need is not a friend, what they need is honesty and clarity.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I know a Girl
She loves to pray
And everytime we kiss
She runs away in shame
Because I don’t fit into her world
And she can’t look her leader in the eye
When I’m on her mind
Is your river flowing?
Should I… check again?
Breathing hard she runs far away
And in the distance we can pretend
That she’s stronger than Shame…
She’s ashamed of herself
For not being herself
Because she’s afraid of herself.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 