Posted in Poetry

Singers as Saints

Posted on by Noel Ihebuzor

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

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Silence as guilt

Posted on by Noel Ihebuzor

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.

Posted in Poetry

The snuff box choice

Posted on by Noel Ihebuzor

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

Posted in Uncategorized

How the light gets in

Posted on by Noel Ihebuzor

Great poem. Helps me manage my feeling of loss.

Susan L Daniels's avatarSusan Daniels Poetry

for LC

I was going to list your loss
as the topper
to a very bad week–
first America
and now you

but your words
listened to with eyes closed
say you would have waited for this

eager, open to the possibility
of more direct wrestling
with angels.

Maybe this crack
in my skin
in my heart
in my hope

is not me mourning

but simply opening
to incandescence

I would rather live lit
than broken.

View original post

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Musings the day after

Posted on by Noel Ihebuzor

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

Posted in Poetry

A Song for the Naive

Posted on by Noel Ihebuzor

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.

Posted in Uncategorized

Please bear with me

Posted on by Noel Ihebuzor

Some of you may have tried to reach me on phone in the last 24 hours and

failed.

Please bear with me. We have been without light in my estate for the past

48 hours, my generator packed up two days earlier and my cell phone

batteries finally ran out this morning. And in the immediate, I cannot

afford to go solar.

Please bear with me and join me in praying for light to be restored.

Since the new buzz is #changebeginswithme, I have now completely overhauled

and adjusted my expectations of this government. It is now one of

resignation. “Nemo dat quod non habet” hold true in law as in life.

I am also in the process of changing my attitude to the stories by this

change government to make it more unquestioning and accepting of its

narratives for the reasons why things are in this sad state that they are.

Please bear with me for the inability to communicate by phone. Who needs a

cell phone any way? Was there not life before the cell phone?

May God lead us through this valley of tears, amen!