Songs

of the

Unvoiced
Poems by JINGII (Emmanuella Nduonofit)
 NIGERIA

A cursed country I was born in

A furnished road was a trash bin
Mud carried by the feet of passers-by
Through the hardships, the nation die

Unloved Nigeria, I deny you

I shall do everything to defy you

Nigeria has the very least hope

Her optimism is like a weak rope
Nigerians say, We must fight
Sin comes and they hide in fright

Failing Nigeria, I scold you

You never listened to what God told you

Nowadays, the worst is Nigeria

Till today, she is no better than Liberia
Even if she received a visit from the Pope
Still, up till now, this country cannot cope

Sinful Nigeria, I pray

That you will be forgiven today

I pray to God that Nigeria will still live

And also her iniquities the Lord will forgive
O Earth, Nigeria will never be a rogue
Have hope! She shall be back in full vogue

2
Future Nigerians, keep on struggling
Battle not to enter into smuggling

O world, help to give my country courage

She will live prosperously till her old age
Nigerian children, you all should end the pranks
And to the Lord God infants should give thanks

Warriors of Nigeria, to her restore peace

For truly, truly, my country shall be in one piece

God bless my cursed country.

Tranquillity be hers forever. Amen.

END

3
 RAIN

The heavy tears of God

Entering all insides
Hitting the skin
Soaking, drowning
Unforgiving
Displays His fury
Expresses His anger
Explains His hurt
His tears are accompanied by His excruciating growl
Then, His deafening bark
And then, His faint thud
His pain pierces through the firmaments
Shakes the heavens
Rocks the earth

Is there no stop to His tears?

No end to His crying?
Why does He weep so bitterly?

His immense sobbing brings heat to mankind

A malediction to His look-alike
Touches the earth and turns it to soggy mud
An ugly decoration to the shield of the feet of His image

Humans duck to avoid the fury of those tears

But fruitlessly
Makes mankind lour at it

4
Hail, ye humans!
God is crying
Ceasing all forms of fun
Ending happiness
Wonder and ponder why

It is a benediction to the crops

A blessing to all plants
Swamps cannot express their gratitude
For its continuous flow

God cries on every part of the world

On every part of livestock
On every inorganism

Maybe God wants a change of heart

It’s right now that it should start
People use to wonder, and I use to ponder

When in the world will it stop raining?

END

5
 THE BANQUET AND THE FUNERAL

Under the smiling, satisfied sun

Murder, Greed, Hatred
Embezzlement, Indolence, Contamination
All sit round a table
Also seated are War,
Extortion and Wickedness
Mendacity, Stratagem, Deceit
Aspersion and Ignorance
Envy, Conceit, Hypocrisy

And now, here comes Injustice, the host

Walking on the red carpet
Corruption welcomes her
Bribery salutes her
The dishonestly opulent applauds her
The culpable congratulates her
She rings a bell and says, Let the meal begin!

All are dressed in black and red and dark glasses

Celebrating in sin

Under the senile, sterile sun

Beggary, Hunger, Bloodshed
Fear and Sorrow
Stand and bend their heads and mourn
The death of Amity
Kindness and Virtue
Goodwill and Faith
Loyalty and Honesty

6
Understanding and Sacrifice
Wisdom and Knowledge
Justice and Love
Tranquillity, Glee, Happiness

They are at a graveyard

Clothed in snow white garments

They are nothing

For Hope went and never came
They are unwanted
Commiseration slept and never woke

END

7
 SOME COURTESIES!

He walks up to me.
“I love you,” says he.
He displays his teeth.
There’s bad breath beneath.
So quickly I flee.

“You are so fine,” she says.

“So hard to find these days.”
She is a grown-up pest.
Damn her, that is the best.
There are many easy ways.

8
 ALONE

Alone
Alone under the wild, wide weather
Being taken care of, like a feather

Alone under the tiring, turbulent tree

Being haunted and praised by Mystery

Found happiness in the abstract

Too vague, too odd, can’t extract

Alone at birth, alone till death

Alone at every resounding breath

I grow and bend, that’s my choice

Impure with a very vicious voice

But I admire and appreciate the fame

Of the person who is just The Same.

I see the scorn in every smirk

Of those who read this piece of work

I implore thee not to hate my tone

In my head I hear a constant drone
For I am just alone, alone

9
 THE SIMPLE STORY

In the beginning was His Word

The very first thing was His Creation
He saw that everything was good
Then up came His Own Nation

But how unfortunate was the world

By sin she was led astray
Everyone was blind to the truth
And each went his own way

The whole earth became contaminated

And out of the atrocious ones was Cain
Among the nefarious was also King Ahab
Who made sure justice was obtained in vain

Wickedness lived in every single corner

And only the devout worship God
Salvation and redemption shall befall on those
Who are welcomed into the Home of the Lord

David seeked for God’s Heart

Although he made a census
But check out his descendants
For one of them is Jesus

As a boy, He shone brilliantly

Like a bright and morning star
But the Kingdom is still very distant
Heaven is still very far

10
He gives everyone His Blessings
And on those with special gifts
The proud shall be humbled
And the lowly He lifts

Jesus Christ owned healing hands

And was known for His Wondrous Miracles
Yet the people still heeded not
And consulted several oracles

People still linger in the dark

As they continue to pile up their sins
For they gloat and pat their bellies
And most of them own triple chins

Jesus loved all His Twelve

But His Favourite was Peter
“Take care of my flock, take care of my sheep
Take care of my lambs, St. Peter.”

Don’t despair, for He is the Lord of lords

His Mercy and Grace is abundantly pure
As a Christian, you must suffer
All your trials and temptations you endure

So great is His Holiness

With His Mother, Mary, full of grace
If we had listened to God
The earth would be a better place

He is absolutely the King of kings

11
And we deserve to sing His Praise
Let all songs come from within
For it is God and His Son we should raise

The people paid rapt attention

To His Most Holy Advices
But the Pharisees scorned and gloated
And were filled with avarices

They all joined their heads together

All together they had a tête-à-tête
They all swore to get rid of Jesus
And upon their own lives they would bet

We are ever so ignorant and selfish

And our payback to God is our blood
But He is ever so kind and generous
That He’ll never destroy us with a flood

The supper of the Lord came

Judas was spiritually assigned to betray
He was too glad to hand Jesus over
Too happy to hand Jesus over that day

After, He went down in silent prayer

With three of His Important Disciples
“Peter, James, John, wake up
For all of you lack holy principles.”

Finally, the high priests were successful

So successful were the high priests

12
But they knoweth not that deep inside
Satan used them as beasts

The Sadducees are genuine hypocrites

For they believeth not the rise from the dead
They argued and fought and bickered
Paid no heed to all that Jesus had said

And so, Our Lord was sent to trial

Then they all stood and began to accuse
Herod and Pilate were highly surprised
For He uttereth not a word of abuse

Pilate went closer to Him

And saw God, the Omnipotent
He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders
For he discovered He was innocent

So finally, Our Lord was crucified

And the one who sentenced Him was Pontius Pilate
He wanted to set Jesus free
But the crowd was screaming at a high rate

He was put on the Cross with nails

And very loudly He cried
We have a God who never fails
He prayed to His Father and died

He appeared to His Disciples

For three days later, He rose
They all shook with awe
At the brilliance of His Face and Nose

13
“In My Name, you shall do wonders
And all shall turn to Me
Be blessed with the Holy Spirit
For It shall guide your paths fearlessly.”

He said many more and blessed them

Then up into heaven He did ascend
With the promise of the Holy Spirit
And never again to descend

His Forgiveness is ever extreme

And He knows you seek to be sane
But this can never be achieved
If you are not born again

Good is the Lord and holy is His Majesty

For we are all in God’s Palm
And the only way we can survive
Is for us to be absolutely calm

So, if we obey all The Commands of God

Certainly we shall share His Awesome Glory
For that reason, holy tales are very endless
Feel the power of this simple story

14
 AS I SLEEP

I could see anvils falling down on me as rain

I could see darknesses line up in a queue
I could see Chaos
I could see Confusion
I could see Unhappiness
I could see – death
I could see the fatal shine of the sun
I could see hands distorting and disfiguring my face
I could see legs kicking my abdomen
I could see strangers coming in and going out of my house
I could see Madness, Craziness and Indolence and Insolence
I could see the monstrous beauty of my adversary and boon
companion
I could see the resplendence of my countenance, which is murky
I could see the tranquillity in my life, which is reckless
I could see the firmness of my existence, which is minute
I could see...

I could see everything

I could see anything
Actually, I saw nothing

15
 LIFE OF THE DEAD

They rise
and wait
in the skies.
A chronic wait.
Then,
some go back,
some tumble down,
and some continue.

Those that returned:

they haunt,
taunt,
exploit
and hunt, yet
cannot stay.

Those that fell:

they arrive
uncertain and
wonder,
and wander
about hot inanity.

Those that went up:

Cheers,
and smiles with
innocuous grins, they
find solace.

16
 A WANDERER (1)

My shirt
has torn armpits.
My trousers,
a pair of dregs,
a pair of oblivion.
My waistcoat,
bitten,
chewed,
spat out.

I wander inside of me
Sordid scars on my manly muscles
My hubris on a minimum
My once-attractive face...
I wander

Time, a dragger
went like speedboat

A unifier – not unifying

I look more and see less
I listen, and cannot hear

Shallowless beneath,
I sing your praises,
dance to your tunes,
I, a prodigal.

The dog in me

17
is a Judas.
The things I see,
a Jezebel.

When will it all end?

When will I stop?

Ye wanderer, I had not misheard,

Thy burden thee must endure
To suffer is ultimate
Thy trials inevitable
All done to My Glory

Slowly I wore
a perennial mask
of a smile.

18
 QUICKSAND

So mauve a land it is
Bedecked with diadems and semistones
From up descends the taciturn tears
To make it tidal
And glisten with light black lustre
In the nothingness hangs an awkwardness
That create tense surges of fervour
Sand, quick!
Entrap and capture thy victims
In ravenous quest
Like a patient prowler
It is just raw sacrifice
A gumption of fresh flesh
And inorganisms
Droplets from leaves encourage the ground thus
Imprint of the Kora princess
That He sculpts with art and finesse
Glint of the Camak trinket
That tempt and deceive Man
Sand, quick!
Delicately engrave them
They have found a home
Showers of informal baptism
Invites an ebony colour
Yet with ivory undertones
Curvaceous waterways form
And they are cleansed, bathed
Under dank illumination
Until, at last, the Inti shines

19
To glorify
From miles in depth
The antara is heard
And the earth is hardened once again
To welcome a grassy stadium

WORDS FROM THE NOVEL “LOVE IN THE CLOUDS” BY ROSA

ALMONTE
KORA: Full name “Mara Kora”, a lovely virgin meant to be dedicated to
Inti until she touched a man. “Mara Kora” means
“starflower”, something pure and clean.
CAMAK: Full name “Pachacamak”, the Bolivian God of Gods.
INTI: The sun god of the Aymarás – a tribe in Bolivia.
ANTARA: An ancient shepherd’s panpipe.

20
 A WIFE OF A PRIEST

A weak vessel of exhumed beauty

A fly girl with borrowed hair

of the finest quality, yet an abode of stench
spends insulted money

A petite gamine with a voice of dominance

her commanding presences often exaggerated
and her breath anathematized

Her body, a history of men

A tall dwarf with tender lips
that can bite the countenance of an adder
Her handsome legs, a reckoning, a beckoning

She has done her spiritual digging

peruses the small holy book with hidden face
and keeps account of the Calendar

A professional huntress with claws

hermetic in her libidinous missions
yet an insular self

A queer femme fatale

as she goes on and
discards the warning of the banshee

She went below, beneath

to become a withering, wretched wraith

21
till doomsday,
two look-alike issues within her

Harrowing, hoarse husband

secrets his face in salt water hands
for his descendants

22
 MUTANT

There he is
There he goes
There he stands
Grass cutter for a populace of glamour
butchers the savannah for the sake
of a pulchritudinous world,
searches for everything, searches for nothing
Dew on his injured clothes
Little it does to conceal his burden,
filled with lemon yellow sap and snow white pus
Overlooked,
Observed in somnolence,
clutches this abhuman fallacy,
his left leg, Lucifer-owned, still moving,
puts countenance to the earth
Came a day
he was called,
embalmed in debris and soiled entrails,
a mutant no more.

23
 ON PAPER

They are the flowers in the thorn bush

that dangle according to the rays of the sun

They speak a language, familiar and foreign

They make homes, create shelters
They prepare food, cook edibles
all on paper, only on paper

Eyes are fed, nurtured and nourished

yet…

24
 THE PARCEL

It startled the birds as

It flies through
The air.
It troubled the
Earth, as it
Lands.
It came
With a bang
And was
Profitable.
It got
Stabbed as it
Announced its
Message.
Hearers took it to
Refine it, cure its
Injury.
It was healed and
Adhered, but the
Refinery is
Kaputt.

25
 I SEE THEM

In an atmosphere
dominated, domineering
I see them; infantile, still teething
I am underneath their powers
I am beyond their awesomenesses

(The articulate Achebe

who, when things fell apart
and the world was no longer at ease,
still held on strong to the arrow of God

The peppered Clark, a John

who visited Ibadan
caught sight of a Fulani cattle
who saw an exchange at the streamside
and witnessed an Obatala’s imprisonment
underneath the rain of a night
yet, after a cry of birth,
became a child asleep

The Gbaingbain
who, when snowflakes sailed gently down,
heard noises of pianos and drums
Were (he) to choose,
he'll listen to the voice
and hear the call of the River Nun

Mythical Okigbo, the transient penitent of Idoto

you met the water maid

26
smelt the passion flower
and after climbing the bridge
did reach heavensgate
But thee, O weaverbird, flew away
at August late – and returned never
after the blare of the sirens
I now know the limits
of those silent distances
right there at Ekwegbe
where the labyrinths withered and faded
and left behind paths of thunder

The star of Soyinka

so imagic, so real
which gleams, which glitters
yet cannot I dwell in swamps,
nor dance in the forests
nor own a lion and have a jewel
nor invent
I can interpret
and converse on telephone

Cannot stay I
in the world of the Ogun-s
Cannot I be
a Rotimian

The wandering Tutuola

who drinks the wine of the palm
lives in the bush of ghosts
encounters Simbi and the satyr of the dark jungle
discovers a brave African huntress

27
and met a feather woman of the jungle)

I in genuflect
on corrosive ground
stretch out these arms
and request for the wings
to soar to that era so urbane
and touch the oil bean

I hail the fertile, foreign floor

(The hard Thomas
The golden William
The worthwhile William
The authentic Jane
The lawful David Herbert
as well as George
I cannot smith the gold as Oliver
Cannot I shake the spear like William
but I shall compare (him) to a summer’s day

I wish to be a woman of substance

who holds the dream
and seeks to be the best)

Yet I am no more than a stem

for the very fact that I see them
and am transmuted in their science

In this trend
the thrilling lights and brimming nights
of this artmosphere
can never end

28
Amen
A WANDERER (II)

Fed well by the baobab

Protected by the iroko
Strengthened by the bombax
Yet incarcerated in parenthesis

I am strong within and vanquished by an outer might

Strands of hair, washed not clean, on the breast
Still wears the crucifix; burdened by pus
I have the strength yet lack the fight
Problems, problems, problems pain the chest
Wrapped and packaged into the foreign bus

I search for a language I know not

For a people that know not me
I weep, for living is slim
Where I stand light left the spot
There is sullen solace in misery
And an illumination, bright and dim

Harder, harder, harder fall I

No choice; resolve to be a nomad
For no one can hear me complain
In the deep circle my scattered cry
For this world, so happy, so sad
Was footballed; quite a bitter strain!

Someone offer me a tassel, to dodge from worry and hassle

Another me is
Somewhere, far

29
Away, better
Than me.

O the harsh mane of my ululation…!

30
 AN AFRICAN PATRIOT

His name an acronym

A pauper son from nativity
and the rigid militant walls allow nothing else in
So brutally terse a man, a sinister minister
Death saunters and meanders in his affluence
Decorative and artless corpses queue up in his opulence
He places his victims in brackets that come together
at his touch
and hastily dives into mendacious waters
Hear his hermetic footsteps echo night and day
A history of women is his body
who he pulls forcibly to himself
in spite of the one who initially owns the bed
for the wishes of the hedonistic flesh must be obeyed
He is in that big hall of fame
but a reappearance requires a lot of archaeology
He is richly exiled en ce moment
with a people who bow their heads to the ground
at the holy time
He is blind to the minuteness of air time
but he will be forgiven
absolved from all
when penance is taken to heart
O how hatred quivers the bones
that acknowledge him so!
O Uganda weathered the storm
and takes true tranquil at last
perhaps

31
 A WANDERER (3)

Under the cold sun

I swim the inimical rapids
I trek on abandoned divots
I walk on human debris
I pass through dead wigwams
From afar,
a cock crows thrice
and dawn surfaces
O yes! the hot sun was cold
everywhere so overcast
as I bleat

In a dark
thick as Egypt night
I walk through mud and mire
and hear the flowers groan for food
I might go international perhaps
but the masquerader approaches
the Pharisee arrives
The air is minute
The ground is certain
The dust is real
This is a fundament!

At last! the eyes of the Rex

brightens the cryptic labyrinth
that I meander,
in wait of the Icon that breaks all barriers

The flakes of snow shall come then

and I will find my idyll

32
 FOR THE PRODIGALS

Return! Turn back to the native earth

All the dances and customs one must implement
With each and every one unique and different
Everywhere must be joy and cultural mirth
Yes! Here is an insurrection for a rebirth
The laws that are made, nobody should circumvent
For our aims and objectives are quite evident
We are men and women of great girth
So proud, so richly blessed, so perfumed
Accursed be the adversaries that lurk
For we are protected by the only divine
No more shall we ever be subsumed
All ye citizens, come out of the murk
For in this tenement we must intertwine

All must worship their Chukwu, praise their Olorun and Allah

33
 THE CONFRONTATION

I salute you, my peoples, I formally greet

At this point, at this place, we finally meet
Watch and observe, ye eyes of this nation
And be sole witnesses of this confrontation

(Three middle-aged men emerge from three directions, the FIRST

MAN in a konkosa-danshiki outfit, the SECOND MAN in a richly
embroidered aso-oké and the THIRD MAN in a refined isi-agu.)

FIRST MAN
Yes! Here arrives the blessed hour!
Most of my abokis greet me Squire
Eyes on me! Everyone would admire
For I am endowed with such power
Above all races I happen to tower
Big, mighty positions I like to acquire
To prepare for the political crossfire
If I win, what blessings I shall shower!
You both know how good is my health
I am so famous and popular an Alhaji
And I see you two fighting for the Stool
So great a man with great wealth
Now I say unto you, Quick! Tashi!
For I and my people are to rule

SECOND MAN
Here I come, the one and only articulate
For my race is colossal, a mighty mass
Yes! Our Olorun has made us the most great
And our marriage is simple: a lad, a lass
We can so freely inform and educate

34
 And we are blessed with land and bass
In so many ways we can communicate
And we have plenty of brass
Yet can we be violently passionate
Die by the knife, those who trespass!
All ye aliens we will execrate
Jadé! Maa-lo! you ten-faced ass!!
So, this tribe can nobody underrate
Do not dream of ruling this State

THIRD MAN
The doors of our homes are never shut
And we shower on everyone traditional love
Our salutations are done with the kolanut
And our gratitude goes to the white dove
We all breathe with one Big Heart
Our back-up is the mighty Azikiwe
Even though so many things fell apart
We have the guidance of the Most Igwe
So listen up, every eastern adult and kid!
We even own the proud leaves of the ugu
Anyhow, anyway, we always get our quid
We worship and glorify the One Chukwu
So you see? We are so giant, so fertile
But you both are so puerile – so sterile!

(The men glare belligerently at each other.)

The Highest Highness, He is so splenetic

At the religiously, socially, culturally genetic
Can anyone, anybody of this creation
Terminate this awful, useless confrontation?

35
 TYPICAL FEMALE

She was a woman with mind-blowing grace

And she walks with a high, fast, steady pace
Who is this that beauty bedecks
With suppleness and good reflex?
She owns this ever-resplendent face

With elegant steps and sedately mute

She loves all instruments but the flute
For sure, she was dirtily perfect
And eschewed from all sorts of defect
One could say that she was far from cute

A very lovely sight to behold

She just glimmers like gold
She appears so handsomely sweet
And answers not anyone that greet
Her, for she can easily be sold

She comes from the East

And prepares to be a priest
One could feel her strain
She can unconsciously entertain
As she goes to many a feast

She dares not drink from the can

And always with her is a fan
Just see the marvels of Beauty
Observe how She performs her Duty

36
And so, she was finally owned by a man

WE WERE CLOSE

We were close and are not close

Even the blood of mothers
can prevent this distance not
Everyone of them sob greatly with tears crocodiled
I wait for the Anticlock exiled,
a man under a woman,
man of bonds,
an old child
We, the remnants of the cultural west
from the East and elsewhere –
well, just another.

Blood burns out of me from under

O dour!!!
I cannot sight those with wraith Troubadour
Yes!! the ikuku, turbulent and weak
against the smooth, soft faces
of the rough, rugged trees of forest
But after my Sweet Neigh so dark,
my Muse shall lead me
to the Zone of Twilight… forever a Papillon

Will there be?

37
 TORN

I am a united constellation of lights

Scattered and lost in the deep, dry dark beyond

38
-----------------------------------------------
A Silent gatecrasher
Very stealthy In his creep
His omnipresence Not Felt
He Journeys within On tiptoe
and leaves Footprints Undetectable

He may Have left Nature

but It got the Worst of it
and still Does

Him popular to Be the Cause

of Several experiences Ghoulish,
fills One with Perennial Dis-Ease

He is a Pulverizer Unique
immunity? – No
Accept The fragrant Arms
of Demise.

He Rides on White horse

with bow And white Flag
But see What follows him Behind!!!

He cannot be Killed
He can Only be stopped
------------------------------------------------------

39
------------------------------------------------------
I early sail to school
secured the rope withered round my trousers
I write with pencil blunt
I look at teacher with eyes squint

The roof lets in the sun

and sometimes the waters dangerous become
Sneeze, Sneeze, Sneeze!
squirms on seats personal

Yes! my work is excellent

teacher says
and it went shred in the machine

We ourselves individually embrace

since the waters surround the school
and elsewheres

We go – I go
to come back again
ceteris paribus
--------------------------------------------------------

40
 WHAT IS POLITICS?

POLITICS? IT IS A SWEET GAME

WHERE PEOPLE STRUGGLE FOR FAME
ALAS!! GOD LOOKS DOWN AT THEM WITH SHAME
TO HIM, ALL THAT THEY SAY IS LAME

OH! POLITICS HAS BECOME VERY DIRTY

ASPIRANTS ARE MORE THAN THIRTY

THEY STAIN THE WALLS WITH THEIR FACES

AT DIFFERENT LOCATIONS AND PLACES

MY PEOPLE, AT PRESENT, SUCH IS THE CASE

THEY ARE ALL RUNNING A RAT RACE

ALL OVER THE STREETS THEY ROAM

IN ORDER TO APPROACH YOU IN YOUR HOME

“I AM THE BEST NOBODY HAS EVER HAD!

WHAT I WILL DO, WILL MAKE YOU GLAD
FOR, AS YOU CAN SEE, I AM VERY WELL-CLAD.”
ALAS!!! POLITICS SHOULD NEVER BE BAD
IT SHOULD NEVER LEAVE EVERYBODY SO SAD

THEY GO ABOUT AND CAMPAIGN

IN THE END, THEY MUST BE SURE TO GAIN

I AM SURE WE WILL ALL STAND TO LOSE

SO, MY PEOPLE, IT IS LEFT FOR YOU TO CHOOSE

41
FELLOW MEN AND WOMEN, I WANT YOU TO NOTE
THAT POLITICS MUST NOT VIOLATE YOUR RIGHT TO
VOTE

BE SURE YOU VOTE THE RIGHT MAN

FOR EACH OF THEM HAS HIS HIDDEN PLAN

ALAS!!!! POLITICS HAS LOST ITS VERY ESSENCE

AND HAS MADE THE ATMOSPHERE VERY TENSE

42
 THE EMPTY LOOK

She saw me –
and that look,
filled with nothing,
kept me.

that empty look

It was blank – flat,

asking me questions:
“Who are you?”
“What is that?”
“Who is that?”
“What are you?”

She didn’t blink

Others were sleeping

She didn’t…

I held my breath,
my eyes unsteady
as Somus reigns
I made sure he reigned

Why am I here
in their midst?

I held my breath…

43
Then, her eyes smiled
I smiled
Hers infectious

that called me

I cradled her,
and we slept off
together

44
 SEMITRIBUTE

Once again, his grave squirms!

I want Idoto to rake over water,

for it looks pretty safe
Since ’67 August late he went –
but I have taken over his mantel
I am the bird who weaves this time
Better than he
He went of late recent,
but his air is still there
He went dolphinning till now

To mount up the Aon top…

He must have been a climber alien

45
 BUTTERFLIES IN NIGERIA

Thank the wind from an adulterated Niger,

a national pillar,
that keeps wings flapping

Nigerian butterflying… it’s typical

Drab-coloured, blind moths,

besieging the bulb, the fluorescence, the lantern, the candle
chased by the broom, the cloth, the hand, the slipper
aid from the Niger wind, a national pillar
inhaling that air to live

Flying butter on the bread of Nigerian life,

coloured drab,
butterflies in Nigeria do not linger
for one to catch sight of their beautiful inexquisity

They can’t even soar

Immigrant butterflies are better, but fewer
for there are no gardens for their ultimate rest

46
 MY WISHES

I wish I were a dog

that feeds on the faeces of her young
I wish I were a chick
trapped in the talons of an eagle
I wish I were a woodpecker
whose beak sticks to the bark of a tree
I wish I were a fish
whose gills were caught by the whirlwind

I have laid bare my wishes

Ye strangers,
can you save me from my wishes?

47
 A COMMONER

No life
No hope
No future
But a dream
that must come true
and become an ivory tower

48
 COURTESAN OF NIGERIA

He took him to her

and he held her hand
He could feel the wedding ring
in the pocket of his transparent agbada,
fought conscience and took her in
“Pay her in person,” whispers the pimp,
after his own large share.

The night is bright

and she strips in its light
This stirs him – he grabs her
Doesn’t hurt her in order to pay well

He’s rich enough for her

Not as rich as the other
Quite like the third

Stuck between the legs of a high-rank military officer,

Trapped in the hotel room of an influential MD,
Swoons in the guest house of a dangerous politician,
Touched by the hungry fingers of a senator,
“Re-moulded” on the table of a speaker,
Lost in the arms of fellow courtesans…

O naira!
Why scald me in
the recess – the abyss sweet to make
me prefer kobos?

49
An innocuous look for the wealth-amassers:
the Alhajis, the Chiefs, the titled, the MPs, the PSs, legislators
This fosters desire and pay

My body’s to the task,

infiltrating the peasant way
I grab the hearts of the lost
to lick or leave or love

But, a mother?

50
 MAN WITH AMULET

A man
Of great penetration

He “comes” at each droplet,

protected well by his amulet –

An amulet that rests on his hips.

Love and desire enthunders from his lips,

Swoons his opposite

To supplication.

Fire at his touch

And not prone to talk much

Fellow men, this is a man you cannot beat

For he is “The he-goat-on-heat”.

When the pungent power grips the groin,

One naturally discards the only cloth of loin.

51
 OHAMADIKE’S SCHOOL

...with strands of grey hair

transparent goggles
bedecked in traditionals, white mainly
a trimmed-up goatee
an anti-chatterer
with a wife clearly bespectacled as well
and a bureau in the wilderness, following a smooth wide path of
sand
a Catholic churchman
and...

In his positive eyes,

he rules a school of much-talked-about negativity:
the bus crisis
the academic crisis
the social crisis
a red tank of water is built high
but miles from it is the Bermuda Triangle,
or Calcutta – “Pita! Pita!” is whispered about, but not said
his deputy appears most of the time
or his representative
for he cannot come out of that tainted-windowed 505,
chauffeur-driven
o how he lives sweetly and we suffer sweetly!
yet, there is progress snail-like

He rules
stronger than the stooge before him

52
OHAMADIKE
the world knows
that you are a strong man
and you rule a strong school
a strength of unestimatable depth

a strong school of unsteady rumouring

a low-historical place of infrequent deaths and accidents
a citadel of unlearning
a half-bakery

but one goes well after graduating from this orientation camp,
this school of Ohamadike

53
 TO PLANT AGAIN

She is
wombless, without milk
flesh removed from the chest
hair made short
features hardened with crease
and bones made powerful
thus, muscles
and a deep voice...

He is
long-haired and smooth-faced
no protuberant bone at the throat
and fluidless bosoms
sweet speech
beautiful hips
thus, shapely
with steps full of grace and space...

There they are,

the fake man, the fake woman,
the normal, strong, healthy trees
that uproot themselves from the soil
and return back as seeds
which grow unright

Signed: A FERVENT ADVERSARY OF TRANSSEXUALITY

54
-------------------------------------------------------
All plastic, the colour of faded snow
Eyeless, but how could it see me?
No nose, yet how could it smell my presence?
I greeted it
It greeted back, technology flowing inside that feminine voice
It produced a smile, female lips
It became a She in my mind
Way taller than me, but she took me to a place
A place I had always wanted to go to:
My future:
The world of my books
I lived with them
I died in them
A book of me was then created as my grave
And on the simple epitaph: THIS IS ME.

Is it a dream, or...?
---------------------------------------------------------

55
 THE PICTURE HAS AGED

the picture is aging

and the glory is there,
ancient
created decades before birth
a material from mother earth

that picture has aged

from the exhume
of past perfume
its peace was poor
an image damp, dry, dirty, delicate
so coarse, so hoarse

the picture has truly aged

with a taciturn texture
and withered edges
The paper goes
and still stands,
a monument for the very brief glance
and a morsel for the side of the eye

How still she reclines

handbag on the left
her stare motionless
and a neck of matured deformity
due to ill-wishing, so the story goes
“If I come back again, I will no longer be kind”
So goes the story,

56
The mother of my mother

I am her last
If only she knew me...
But she left and I came
Now, I can only look at her
Touch her
And not feel her,
The sixth wife and the best,
In the picture that has aged
and is ageless

57
 IN THIS LAND

In this land breathe the agbayas and oloshis

and a race of minorities uncrushed
tending ’placent to the ewedu
and key positions they hold to uncherish
to reverence Ogun, one of the Oloruns
The incant has length
while the wriggle in egungun,
dear Aso-oké stands tall
to hit the famous hall
and kiss several frogs

On this earth live the ogbanjes and osus

and a race of minorities uncrushed
the ugu adorns their world
and kolanut smoothes the day
with palmwine as invigorator and snuff as back-up
Money-craze! Money-craze!
Restless money-craze, till death
And in the end
mmanya is there
and obi down
The Niger continues to flow, Igweeee

From this soil grew the barawos and sege ba’zas

and a race of minorities uncrushed
with bedecking caps and kaftans
legs neatly folded on mats
They bow when the time is holy,

58
their stench cleverly concealed behind costly scent,
smiles stretching distort in the salaam
The uncircumcised demi-gods, Imam-high
while heat booms from the konkosa
O cherishable cow milk and guinea corn
in calabash.

O President –
the minorities run their own races dear
no victor, no vanquished
with their fouls and fairs
with their laws and lies
with their wins and woes –
you leader in smear-white garment
you saint of these sins,
control us in democraze
for psyche chaos will arrive gradually
and talks no longer carry voice
in this land...

59
 DENOUEMENT
O NIGERIA:
behind the mask of a lion,
short-wrappered, jaguar-skinned
and a matchet the blade of samurai sharpness.
What’s the texture of cow milk and guinea corn,
the mmiri and mmanya made impotent,
like asoebi in the dark?
Na Gwo De, Allah!
The Scales have fallen
and rain shall soon come
to burn us all
TWI-TWI-TWI, go the owners of the air
The Eagle:
To follow the footsteps of A WANDERER
unprepared for THE CONFRONTATION;
THE EMPTY LOOK for BUTTERFLIES IN NIGERIA
O how it soars the sky!
Bird of birds
TWI-TWI-TWI
The hawk:
THE SIMPLE STORY is
there was RAIN
and WE WERE CLOSE
AS I SLEEP, I became a MUTANT
Everything was written down ON PAPER
and tucked firmly in THE PARCEL.
TWI-TWI-
The falcon:
ALONE,
living the LIFE OF THE DEAD
and sunk in QUICKSAND –
I SEE THEM

60
in OHAMADIKE’S SCHOOL
and pay SEMITRIBUTE,
AN AFRICAN PATRIOT that I am.
TWI-
Obribong has come
Eke-Orie-Afor-Nkwo, intones the dibia
and protection has come to the land.
How many flyers fill the air –
the Nebulous Void will accommodate.
There!
All cocooned in
this web of
songs of no
voice but
power.

61