by
Noel Ihebuzor
by
Noel Ihebuzor
by
Susan Daniels @susan_daniels and Noel Ihebuzor @naitwt
Published June 27, 2012 Poetry Leave a Comment Edit
Tags: feelings, free verse, frictions, physics
In every straight and curving path of life
the interaction of opposites flows, friction,
its opposition
a delicate assurance of traction,
resistance and grip, always present
allows us to stand and move
same resistance slows and stops us
allowing motion, yet retarding it
the rasp of surface against surface,
smooth against rough, rough to rough,
smooth to smooth; each raises heat,
awakens a force
moved into being by edge scraping edge
the gliding plane
our movement through air as friction
the soaring heart,
the pounding heart, ventricle and atrium
pumping, pulsating and pushing life blood,
in never stopping motion,
constantly overcoming friction and resistance,
harp strings tremble, plucked and stroked by knowing
fingers, the wailing saxophone,
the streaking trumpet,
the tickling tinkling piano strokes,
slides, glides, and breaks its chords
all raising hammers to strings
and frictioned strings to sound
the whispered violin
all engineered friction fusing with air,
music born of friction, peaks and troughs of sound
throb in our ears
the ship slicing through waves,
opening and parting them in bowed surge
the wetted measured friction
has the waters parting, gushing, rushing round
singing in joyous roars that fill, fulfill, and enflame
basking mermaids slithering and lulling in the waves
of plunging passion
our fingertips, too, on skin, are friction
we call pleasure, touches we arch under
the language of groans and sighs also moaned friction
of heated air rasping vibrating cords
in the throat, just so
and then tensing to yes.
the pleasure of the plough plunging deep,
digging deep into gripping soil
gratefully opening up to tilling, for seeds of life
to be planted, so that in season, a rich harvest would birth
and how our voices rejoice, secret yielded as fruit
the shared complicity in
friction and pulling,
plowing, plunging and planting
the stone grinder, the blunt edge,
engage in perfect frictional resistance,
sharpening, short lived stars shooting and flying dazzle,
heat rising to combustion points,
sparks flying with each roll, the spinning grind
the resistance of the pool
the waiting surface tension
the perfect contours of its ribbed surface
pierced by the perfect dive,
the ripples and return heave of frictional resistance
the suckling suctioning into parted spaces, bubbling,
warming and enfolding heat, in the cool dive defeating friction, thawing,
how resistance melts down
into dissolving softness,
like a warm bread knife,
pressed deep into yielding butter,
soon bathed in golden cream….
the touch as fingers run through skin tense,
the kissing caress, lips slowly rubbing singing skin
bodies locking, unlocking, interlocking,
passions painted in colors of friendly wrestlers
locked in a tussle of mutual entanglement and enlargement,
grasping, clutching, gripping
skins toned, glistening, unchaining and liberating
expanding voices, accelerating motions of
perpetual ebbs and flows, surges and suctions
hurrying to a waiting harbor, destroying energy in liberating bliss
and incomprehensible scribbles
on the resisting vibrating surface of the bewitched air
all need your collaboration
demanding energy to overcome
though energy would be felt,
drowned in flowing pleasures
without friction there can be no pleasure
stuttered, stalled, sullen and static
journeys without boundaries
life a languid limp limbo
resistance and restrainer
you increase work and heat
liberating positive energy in seasons of amity
but when time and pride corrode the good
and anomie sets in
and thorn weeds sprout and spike in polluted hearts
painful friction, spawn and install in stubborn hearts
spout-spawning spiraling masses of negative energy,
spurning joy, acerbic simmer, toxic swelters, choking
as corrosive friction multiplies and you deepen your roots
the good begins to dissolve, the ugly enlarges
our edges dry and wear down;
stripped tongues heavy and cracked like warped wood,
hearts unmoved,
and our communications collapse
as enlarging frictions fetters and freezes the feet of amity
to resist and retard the swelling of heart
and bodies that once vibrated and throbbed as one
***And here we are, at our last piece in the fizzy feelings/fuzzy physics series and Susan and I close it here with a flourish. The theme friction is one that lends itself to diverse explorations and exploitations and we have not stinted in any way here in these
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and we hope you will like what we have tried to make of it!
Thanks again to Susan, my partner in poetry and co-creator, for challenge, co-inspiration and for such gorgeous use of the language!
Published June 26, 2012 Poetry 1 Comment Edit
Tags: communication, feelings, friendship, love, physics, relationships
Lately, conversations,
learned or elementary
about quantum entanglements
resonate & bring to mind
you
rich in kinks and curves
to the eyes straight
mirrors of us imperfect in perfection
reluctantly splitting in medium dense
elegance bending in fine angles
And tonight I lose sleep
to deep speculation
wondering at which point
and how
particles of pure energy
roaming space free, opening places
penetrating spaces and crevices
the flowing and roaming particles of
our matter collided
breaking barriers
upper and lower limit
vibrating stream of energy
yes, streams that crashed
and colluded
to synthesize
this synchronized turn
& counter-turn
between us
how across distances
the color of angel robes
the bow of the sky
this awareness continues
bundles of colors at different energy levels
streaming to lighten, to loosen
a delight
past an elemental level
indefinite until measured
** As usual, It was such wonderful fun doing this duet with Susan where we explore the relevance of aspects of particle theory in physics to communication and bonding across space, place and cultures. Susan says it better in her usual eoquence in the words below. Noel
***Quantum entanglements, or the theory of, was the inspiration for this duet between my bolded friend and I (italicized). I believe it describes nicely a friendship and affinity that stretches across the globe
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As always, hope you enjoy our fuzzy, fizzy exploration between particles and people — I know I had fun writing it with Noel, hope you enjoy reading it.
Published June 25, 2012 Poetry 2 Comments Edit
Tags: energy, flows, force, gravity, hate, physics, power
Coiled, uncoiling, recoiled
force and power, taming and untamed , kinetic and potential
constant in final summation
never lost
Eternal borrowed magic
forged once and never destroyed;
only shifting form,
released or recaptured
in new attachments
Transmuting, changing, converting
fields always present
in us, force field, flooding
all life is you, dancing
Whether rolling, roaming, roaring or lulling, tangible proofs
of your occasional intangible presence
we sense the voice singing you
sketching or announcing your passage
either as silent footfalls or thumping poundings
reminding us to be, that we are,
we are beings because of you,
primal mover at the beginning
and still being, celebrating and echoing the command
to be, and you are and remain
being in your bounding, binding,
pounding, driving, falling,
tumbling, stumbling, climbing
the invisible hands drawing the earth’s pull taut,
the rise in slopes, hunger also rising;
rivers rush, stream, and sing your name
and here, we pull together in equal force,
meeting and blending these shifting fields
other disciplines call spirit
but I name simply us;
a measurable magic
weighed in breath
and silent singing of neural nets
taking in and releasing
perfection enacted, beauty embodied
tumbles joyfully to waiting limbs of estuaries,
your torrents delighting, passion swirling
and in the heart pumping blood,
necessary and rhythmic expression of muscle
exalting, exulting, and moving
pure life energy
beating and pushing
the energy of the heart
and this energy can push, also,
the pulse of hate, the politics of rage
the power to heat up, hurt, harm
and strengthen the impulse to heal, help
raw and caged in dams, you exist, taut, waiting
leaving us free, agents with choice
to channel you for good or for bad or for bland
We draw from you the means for
tearing down or building
and weeping as our hands itch for and grasp the former
and you weep in fits at our failure and our fate.
***My co-creator Susan’s voice is in italics – mine is bolded. Again, we had so much fun with this when we created it–hope you enjoy reading it. As always, a treat to write with Susan whose energy and creativity added life and flow to what is difficult concept in physics !
Published June 24, 2012 Poetry 4 Comments Edit
Tags: free verse, love, physics, Time
Eternity the endless is;
neither forward nor back,
but everything now, old and new
the cry of creation echoed
by foothills wrapped in morning mist
reflecting the hum underneath sound,
an ageless shout
Stretched out in space
travelling and rolling
never straight, never monotone, velocity varying
in your kinks and loops,
you dance backwards to lace and trap the minds
of the traveler looking backwards from the present
reaching backwards to embellish images and events
with generous sweet strokes and paintbrushes, dripping nostalgia
We can only chart your path,
a journey from now to the less-now
colored by memory–beautiful,
instructive, instinctive;
more art than accuracy
in the retelling. Still, we rise
from what we think shapes us
to this moment, the moment now past
The beat of the pounding heart
the chimes of throbbing bodies
measure of rhythmic flows
the pulsing vibrating instruments
ogene, piano, ekwe, flute all sing and hum
with you, imperfect mirrors of your rhythm and soul
Yes, we keep time,
counting in fours and swings
and steps, our imposed order
an accompaniment
to your dance through and with us
Measure of intensity, streaming shooting jet
fast as light, often twice as swift
for those in present passion
crawling slow overweight snail for those who wait
rhythm ancient undying
constant motion, flowing streams
defying all our puny efforts
to trap, define and fix your roaming endless stroll
numberless, units without limits, objective
us subjective
the time traveler’s delight, mind shuttles between epochs
gone to relive, coming to feel and anticipate and feel
through frosty crystal balls,
shady mind prisms and tired eyes permitting
astral and mind travels
mind dragging body
Our error
the attempt to capture
or predict your movements,
when we should simply
play within your loops
that wrap us loosely
and then tighten; you are truly
Ouroboros,
constantly swallowing your own tail
the measure of seasons, defying seasons
ebbing and flowing
value and value, always subjective, never same,
the marriage of intensity, attitude ,
people, person and place parade and prance in your amber
producing passion, patience and pleasure
thundering and thumping
Like you, we should
open these mouths to swallow the past
in endless loops of hunger,
taste what has been
on the way, strengthening us
for the race to what will be
your rolling boundless presence
a glimpse into eternity
no boundaries, binding, bonding
all who live, breathe
feeling raptures and ruptures
departures, returns, beginnings and endless endings without end
the eternal dance and mystery of you
** Susan has wonderfully summarised the genesis of this duet on Time in her post below! Need I say more? Except the obvious – that it is always a pleasure to sing with Susan. My voice is in bold, Susan’s is italicized!
***My duet partner caught inspiration for this jogging on the beach in Dar es Salaam; sent me his lines, and I answered from Eden. The actual time it took to write this piece together was under an hour, I believe, and I love its spontaneity and movement! Hope you do too. (Susan)
Published June 14, 2012 Poetry 3 Comments Edit
Tags: hate, heat, pains of love, passion, physics
Dense with entropy, warm interplay
life’s strumming is thermal,
made in heat and made with heat
beginning in fusion and fission of stars
heat riots everywhere, all ways
stored in bonds and energy fields and folds
Heat, energy, pure warming
source and inspirer of life
your touch sparks us and enflamed, we glow
the slow movement to love is fever, seething
body temperatures rising
(Like cold blooded creatures
Basking on sun teased stone, slowly warming)
and thickening blood like magma;
forest fires on skin
our flowing emotions awakened too;
relationships are about heat energy and transfers
warm glowing when souls converse and caress
when bodies melt, flow and fuse,
the scorching joy song of molten gold passion
yes, the constant shifts within us and without us
in traded heat;
radiations, convections and conductions
we conduct, we conduce the flow
nodding to the first law,
nothing made or lost, only changed
from one form to another
high energy charged points to lower points,
seeking release
we free and burn slowly
and with caution
Rising beyond limits, you transform to scorch,
burn, melt all matter past form and shaping;
shuddering volcanoes, molten heat as rage reigns
everything in its path ashes
and twisted metal;
what took years to frame consumed by flames
and past all salvage
Heat energy change
throwing sparks, breath of TOR,
blazing like thunder, causing conflagrations, blazing and burning
Hot burning scorching when hurt installs hate
and envy, spears, poisoned arrows fly, flames burn down
Better flash fires than maximum entropy;
where, lifeless, immobile
we drift further, with no sparking between us
in slow, heavy heat death;
ice cold and indifferent when separated lovers, love burnt out,
now strangers co-habit the same space
invade their naked bodies and feel nothing,
no warmth, no flow, no energy
save ice particles on bodies seeping from the cracks of frozen hearts
***another in our series from physics, hope you enjoy the warmth of this one! We certainly did! Susan’s voice is italicized, mind is in bold! Enjoy the heat!
Published June 10, 2012 Poetry Leave a Comment Edit
Tags: friendship, motion, physics, relationship
even in apparent stillness
our atoms vibrate
past vision and all senses, rearranging with
the simple harmonic motion of elements,
the inner rotation of the subatomic
like mirrored, miniature solar systems
the shift of season into season,
the pulls tides answer, and strokes of waves
all singing life
every motion has brought us
closer to this motion today
where we move in unison
your voice in mine and
mine in yours
your tongue vibrates, feels
and feeds my throat motion;
fluttering, trembling, all kinetic and stirring
and we move, the rhythm of us a motion
born of force and attraction
by polarities that pull
create this swirl, tremulous gyrations, vibrating, oscillating
where merging in vertical and horizontal flows
we reach forward and beyond
with hastening speed
and now, with vectors charting
direction, force and magnitude
this joined velocity singing and ringing
still accelerating, celebrating
the influx and efflux of creativity,
its season of release
** Our second duet on Motion! Susan and I hope you will enjoy reading this duet as much as we did writing it. Susan is italicized and Noel is bolded.
Published June 9, 2012 Poetry 7 Comments Edit
Tags: duet, love, motion, physics
The blue pearl spins on its toes
in never stopping rolls like a top
held in space in distant but constant hug
by the sun radiating
surges of magnetic and force fields
Locked in predictable patterns
but always surprising us;
the times of sunset known
but not its colors,
the exact flush and spectrum flash of sky
as the axis spins and shifts it to night colors
Rotating and revolving
centrifugal and centripetal discourses
neatly balanced as ordained though slightly inching
imperceptible
Our mother an eye, soft and smiling
a constant blue gaze unblinking,
but kind, a glowing awareness
logical in her turning;
her light beguiles and seduces
in its soft sparkling
as the moon, her hills, and blue seas
use their pulls in equations
to twirl, whirl, and swirl
Caressing and awakening the sleeping ocean
stirring, causes waves, tides, and surges
three balls hanging apart in space, moving
yet linked by invisible forces flowing from them
and causing motions and emotions to rise and ebb
And you and I, also
feel the pull, the irresistible forces
that draw our blood beneath skin,
that grasp our hands to lift and turn us
so we also spin and dance like these,
hoping that our weaker movement too
will birth waves
and pools
***Once again I thoroughly enjoyed braiding lines and interlacing voices with my duet partner, Susan, whose beautiful voice shines here and who succeeds to breathe life and plenty of movement into a difficult topics in physics – motion! Susan’s voice in italics and mine in bold!
Published June 8, 2012 Poetry 3 Comments Edit
Tags: friendship, inertia, relationship, separation, stale
Smiles stiff and still
not sparking eyes, sparkleless
exhausted, shambling, soulless routines once so fresh
now stale, sour, and old
constant motion long past dancing
Radius, diameter and circumference in grating logic
circling each other in yawning cycles
We roll unresisting into a heavy, unpiloted slide
remaining in these present states easier
as with each change comes resistance
which must be swept across
or persuaded into action
what is held still craves flow,
though frozen and powerless
to break old bindings
and change direction
We shuffle limp on a limping highway
limp unable to rise nor flow, trudging on a treadmill
threadbare, going nowhere
The mournful sky wraps above and around us
mourning our uninspired mornings
soggy flat in colorless monochrome
borderless without hope, our soulless soles
burdened, weighty and weighed down
at the border of the deadening present and a feared future
Eager to depart, move on and move apart
and resist its own yearning,
and though we have breath and pulse, we lie inert
The half-life of what lived long past
in search of direction,
going nowhere, unable to live
unwilling to leave
Habit a tripwire trapping our feet,
a seething past that teemed,
boiling over, over-run with energy heaves,
now idles
empty of steam and wind
With no wand to wave to will us forward
we live as hollow shells
in endless cycles of repetitions
that weep and
wait for that external force to move us
either backwards or forward,
to push us on or push us over Inertia
**While a pleasure, as always, to write with Noel, I can’t wait to move on to more dynamic physical concepts in this series we are working on
Again, Noel’s voice is not italicized, mine is. (Susan)
****Susan and I explore in this duet a concept in physics that dates back to Newton’s seminal work. Inertia is essentially about the inability of an entity for internally generated change and movement in the absence of external impetus. It is a great joy to feel how in this duet we have been able discover some life and truths about life in Inertia! Always a pleasure to sing with Susan and to feel her voice, soft and delicate, blend with mine, gruff and often strident! (Noel)
Published June 7, 2012 Poetry 3 Comments Edit
Tags: free verse, motion, physics, waves
I want to ride this wave
suspended in stroking flow, the way a child
rocks to sleep at night, body remembering
the forward shove, the dragging back
The mind surveys, questions the source
the ends, the purpose and where they end
this timeless travel, unceasing pulling
Constant pushing and tugging
Your mind brushes infinity, reflected
In a wave with no beginning
that never breaks, but meets invisible resistance
and release in reactive crests and peaks;
The raw push forward, still with softness,
Rocking and wrapping everything that swims
within light, inside water, coiled inside sound;
all the patterned peaks and troughs that invite and incite
with throb and force, always present within a wave–
should we resist or should we swim inside its logic
There is a logic to its heaves
the pull of the moon
stirring tides, stirring blood surges and longings
in its genteel stare bewitching
Let it come, let us call it forth–
summon it to strike and shape
the substance of song and sighs;
the drag of magnets siphoning bitterness,
drawing pure substance to pure substance,
energy flowing forward without resistance.
The waves moving, endless motion,
the to and fro of each wave,
each wave inching deeper and closer
moving us and the world with it
If waves are change, let this one birth a tsunami to crush
and carry away the proud
the assured who stand opposed
but a wave that can with tenderness lift up,
splash and cleanse those
who gently cling at her rolling hems, hide their faces
in her soft skirts
Let us then ride and roll on her foaming wings
as the world rolls and spins
and advances in its waves of ether
moving always and the world forward
***Trying a little something different here with Susan, my duet partner, in a series where we explore the possible applications and implications of concepts from physics to life, living and feelings. Susan’svoice is the one italicized, and Mine is the one not. As always, it was a pleasure to co-create with Susan and to blend my voice with hers!
By
Noel Ihebuzor
In Baba’s house are many rooms
Kitchen, bedrooms, sitting room and
no room for doubt since Baba said so
each room with clear functions
with defined assignees…..
all who enter know the rules and their roles
though some daintily feign ignorance
room access is defined by gender
walls though thin are not permeable,
partitions incapable of shatter
room for roaming arguments
for roaming hands rejoicing
at successful negotiation and fresh possession
room for seasoning, for sliced rumps,
for tenderizing thighs and breasts
room for romps
No room for reasoning, these
function rooms with known functions
mixing or ignoring functions amounts to treason
In Baba’s house,
there are rooms for men only,
women only rooms
and unisex rooms for celebrating new acquisitions
strategic additions
we and all must respect….
rooms for duty bearers and service providers,
rooms for husbands, rights holders,
where lambs yield passage,
sob and go, broken,
rapture almost for one,
rupture for the other
All appears well
for and between two bodies,
strangers in one room,
on one bed
Almost, except that after exchange 1
hungers now elongate in one,
fatigue grows in the other,
meal share now a fatigue
for the first meals in this room
(shearing for one,
cheering for the other)
are not cooked
in the kitchen but
in this same room, the other room
the leveler room
By
Noel Ihebuzor
Point and kill
did not start here
but it is now everywhere here
in various forms
shapes and tastes
Ibari Ogwa tastes so different
from Abagana,
Abagana from Upper Iweka,
Upper Iweka from Ariara,
Ariara from Ibari Ogwa
Catfish hate catfish lovers
and other persons with sensitive palates
no need for them to worry
or be wary of
the new point and kill
the new point and kill experts
descend on bush meat
and grass cutters
after duty is done
when the cutting down
and slaughter for the day are done.
Young men with loud voices, drunk
on half defined dreams & ideas,
armed with belief and hope in excess
bubbling and foaming
like fresh palm wine
come to out to demonstrate,
They come out
to boldly ask why,
and how and when
fuelled by patchy tales,
about a past of suffering but of honor
of killings and rejection
and self affirmation,
Gladly the young men and women come,
spirits high, head high
The point and kill team deploy
pronounce the assembly illegal
order dispersal or “odawise”
The youths object, odighi eshi, and soon,
the point and kill commences
AK47s chatter and shatter
nzogbu-nzogbu chant dies
screams fill the air
live dreamers become dead heroes
on this painful lonely road
as confusion swells, an unending rain
of bullets
shatters body, bones and brain
Red flows freely
on the unequal field
on the pot hole filled streets
their stuffed gutters with no escape
the cream of a people,
scream and wither
Oyenusi and Anini
well robed, bound and roped
knew what was coming
still their frames shook and danced
exuded blood when the point
and kill team went to work
On this cruel road,
a steady stream of red
flows where bullets
flew and slew
soaking the land
For a few who walked this road,
their sun will never rise
in front or behind them again,
neither the half nor the full sun
neither will they see the mothers and aunties
as these wail
so many miles away,
in one lost rug suffocating room
some lost man
sticks some medal
on the chest of some other lost soul, for
pointing at and killing young men
but not their hazy dreams
which stream defiantly across
the midday mourning sky in quarters
Meanwhile in so many joints,
so many and same skies away
important minds dispute on which
point and kill tastes better –
Ibari Ogwa, Ariara, Upper Iweka
or Abagana?
by
Noel Ihebuzor
If the road be straight
By
Noel Ihebuzor
Ten hundred prayed for posts
Twenty pastors and thirty prophets
Prayed and brayed almost
Ten of the prayers, the preyed upon,
the prayed for, got the posts
And prayed on the post
Preyed on the people
All ten had juicy morsels
generously availed, padded
nine chewed their morsels and swallowed
morals mellowed, conscience shriveled,
cheeks blossomed and wardrobes overflowed
in a season of drought and bones
the tenth chewed and sucked,
till nought was left, save chaff and fibre
spat out, never swallowing
cheeks blossomed, morals mellowed
conscience in contraction
tongue active in denial
And she sweet sings herself
the beatification chorus for saints
I spat out and therefore am a saint
chew and swallow mean guilt
singing with a tongue that runs and rails
foams white and fumes
raw tongue running with serums of guile and rage,
shored up by fluids and anima
sucked out of now chaffed morsels
entrapped in self praise,
the singer forgets
that Mother Theresa
did not sing sainthood
to be sainted
If self praise is all it takes to be sainted,
then horses would be flying over low anthills
and praise singing themselves hoarse
to the thundering music of their noisy hoofs
rivaled by the grunting of pigs wearing cheap scents
rooting for sainthoods for cleanliness
By
Noel Ihebuzor
They grabbed him by his collar
dragged him to the ocean front
shouting, gesturing and swearing,
He was boxed on both ears,
his jaws, his chin, his ribs
were bashed, bruised, some broken
all the sins of the world,
all the failures were
heaped on him,
the “sealed” wombs,
every wasted wave,
all sterile flowers
all failed erections,
every flop, all power failures,
any incontinence….
they blamed on him
At the ocean front
The sky for their witness
They screamed at him,
they cursed him, they beat him
for their own weaknesses,
their failings and his
and yet he said nothing
and his silence
soon was their proof
For silence is guilt
Silence is complicity
was his silence smart?
Broken jaws lead to silence
The heavens remain silent
on the secrets of peoples
plants and planets
Does this silence,
then make them guilty,
complicit in our pains?
in this troubled world,
some plans are so twisted,
the waves sweep them
for safe keeping
to echoless silent chambers
where ageless mammy waters
moan day time half sated
when fortune hungry fishermen visit
and to whence they retire
to sleep all night
surrounded by winking periwinkles
when worn out,
without the hoped for fortune
and overworked
fooled fishermen return home to rest
their secrets carefully wrapped in silence
and concealed from their caring wives.
by
Noel Ihebuzor
Do not ask the Asaba woman
why she chose the snuff box
reasons are not always logical
the chooser knows best
and though saints shock us
by choosing to suffer, sadists believe
happiness awaits such a choice
Saints are not created by words
nor by fiat but by their works
Heroes are hailed not for their haste
but for their hard choices
Wizened eyes in the present
see shady pasts clearly,
and to such,
the present appears shady, unclear
Would saints sing the Asaba woman’s choice
as a sin, pure without any comma
or would their deep thoughts
judge her lightly as the victim
of a conscience that was in a coma
rationalisation potent as indignation
often bars the doors to truth,
shutters the windows,
sheds shady lights poorly to the realisation
that though choices are always personal,
choices are also always finally weighed
on a scale steeped in ethics
soaked in morals
By
Noel Ihebuzor
when lies triumph over truth
& cheap trumps deep,
when shallow heels profound,
& cats are at the mercy of gropers
flee, my daughter, flee
fly, my daughter
the why of the lie
festers in the lair where lies the liar,
fast lips & slimy tongue crowding
the loud unrepentant mouth
when right is treated with levity,
& superficial is spun as profound,
noise drowns intellect,
asinine equations mistake
rectum for rectitude
lying tongues lie
in wait for the unwary
with syrups that dull-drowse
but rouse slippery rodents
of fear, hate, disdain of the other
by
Noel Ihebuzor
I will laugh with the greenness
of young blades of corn
thrusting forward, green and bold
in a land where virgins are
two for a grand
and impotent randy men
roam wide spaces
in quest of unstable risings
Do you hear the whispers
of the blade of corn,
young and talkative
as it sways to share its secrets?
and sell its prophecy?
The secrets of the farm,
its short tales, of staggered truths,
tales of men with huge trumpets,
elepant egos and stiff backs
tales of the empty baba rigas
are not told on market days,
nor on farm days
songs of noisy plantings
the flapping and chatter of leaves,
empty but full of naivety….
an empty harvest follows
and the once wet song
soon turns dry, wilts and withers,
leaves, once green,
now brown, twisted dry,
now cry.