Burnt

Burnt

Broad street,  Lagos, 

I am walking into you again,

into streets and scents familiar. 

purple. laughter & natural hair

days have passed without me knowing home,

long walks. lone nights & air

those raindrops

did not 

fall,

they gathered

in my eyes

and formed a dripping song 

into the mouth of

the canary who sings of lost distances

 & a man broken. a man bare,

hugging the wind tightly

and naming it after you.

‘say k’

say it like Yahweh.
a part of you is on everything 

created and yet made,

touch- boundless.
i am walking into you again,

wildfire familiar.
pic credit : Kosoluchi 

Nostalgia 

Nostalgia 

If you would turn,

that is,

cast just a single gaze at me,

you would see the  river that  leads back home.

It’s waters are rising

ebbing, swelling,

falling in drops.
Every single tear carries your face,

solemnly, 

like altar boys with holy bread.
So if you’d still leave,

Go now.

  do not look back.

I would be the night clouds,

without moonlight 

 in search of little stars that would be light.
Do not miss my presence ,

I would be the prodigal finding happiness in lost lands.

My roots spreading, searching for new soil.
But if you, 

like the wild birds that fly miles back to their home,

come back to me,

In the light of your dawn,

all darkness of mine shall be undone.

all days before that day erased

all earlier words  rephrased and lost in the welcome of your eyes.
 I would  be a wild flower and a blooming  rainbow 

Unfolding,  revealing,  restating my love for you 

In a splash of colours.


_pic credit: Ani Brendan_____________

Gbazango’s Cry.

There’s a lot of  hate in our country these days.  People are constantly being hated on the lines of ethnic and religious bigotry.

The whole world is screaming ‘black lives matter ‘ truth is,  everywhere all lives truly matter. All lives are sacred. 

Embrace and spread peace. 

Gbazango’s cry. 

(For Mrs Eunice Elisha, hacked to death  on by extremists as she was preaching in Gbazango, kubwa, Abuja and other many souls who have gone in same manner. May they rest in peace  ) 

I did not die for a god 
I am another martyr  of a country

that mouths  Yahweh  and Allah but worships  armageddon.
When my cries drowned that of  the muezzin,

the Quran and the Bible became a blank sheet.

It’s for Jesus and Mohamed to count  tally 

-the devil will settle scores. 
my soul is in a bus filled with my country men 

someone is trying to say a prayer

and  all that comes out is hell. 

Fire,  

Fire in souls,  fire in hearts that burn out  the good in a god. 
Country man,

I did not go with the ash

I remain in the plaintive  song on my children’s  tongue.

My children and yours will sing  someday 

not in a difficult language,

or in tongues,

but in a language where our gods know their names 

and call them fondly.

Morning with you. 

Like all my nights

I thought you’d  disappear with the fading of the liquor.

before you, 

 i was a bus without a stop 

driven by drunk drivers 

who chose to take me nowhere.

 i was a carnival of masquerades 

 unveiling their shadows 

after a couple of festivals.

my body – a map of crumbled cities

that bore roads to every stranger 

that walked on each one of them.
so you see, i know good bye so well,

like I know the echo of my own name.
So when you knocked 

there were no butterflies 

they had ceased to fly

 crickets swarm in my insides 

and asked me to run. 

run.. 

that you were another one.
but bodies speak a different language 

they speak  the language of magnets

so while you stood,

i longed to cling to  your metals

like I always do

without expecting anything in return,

like I have learnt to do

and in a single night 

you became electricity 

you became music

you became light

you unfolded all my nights 

and I became a baby new born

knowing for the first time 

the feel of morning.

I NEED YOU

I need you as a dark night craves stars
as paint loves the canvas
as a hungry child craves biscuits
as a baby needs his mother’s tits.

I need you like air,
breathe you in me and keep you here
stored in my lungs
your scent burnt on my bones.

I need you, and I mean all of you
like a nut needs a screw
For this feeling is rhythm and blues
meant for grooving two’s

I love you and this poem
breathes my love for you in rhyme
for you are my emblem, my totem
My sin, my addiction,  my crime.

image

Pic credit:bk the artist.

NIGHT AND DAY

image

                 The sun
               rises in me
              in full glow
              it travels slow
            through these sheets
           of rumpled cotton clouds
             processing straight
             in gentle heat
            to your horizon.
            It sets,
           in your 
           waiting evening
            and is  swallowed
           by your
          empty night
            to rise
           again
          in your eyes.

Midnight

12:00

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Midnight is not for witches
Flying on broomsticks
Midnight is not for the last drunkard at the bar
Or  day for the last stripper clad in  her bra.
Midnight is for the dreamer blessed with
joseph joys.
It is  when mermaids play with thier mortal toys.
Midnight is  for the spirits  watching the moon
It is  for the old man replaying his fav’ tune.
Midnight is the earth giving us dreams
For our weary minds to join in immortal  hymns.
Midnight is our soul’s day.
It is when spirits and poems gather to play.

With so much love. Edozie✔