POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 9 EPISODE 1 RISEN (SEASON PREMIER)

WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH - SOONEST NATHANIEL

EUREKA! – (poem of the month)

My mother holds regular debates with Newton

beneath the apple tree.

Free spirit 

she knew nothing about gravity;

she won't be pulled to the earth,

her children's ambitions were reason enough to defy dogma.

Life had always tried to submerge her 

wholly or partially in mud, urine and feces;

but she remembers there will always be an up thrust,

so she displaces her fears and acts in the upward direction.

She knew only the righteous blind with see the rising sun 

at midnight.

So she kept trying to inscribe spheres within cylinders,

kept trying to make perfect circles of every given triangle.

Always solving for the exact number of cattle 

in the herd of the sun,

always counting the number of grains of sand 

that will fit inside the universe.

She will say: "we must acquaint ourselves 

with the objects of our fears,

we must look the worlds in their eyes

and say to them 'do not disturb our circles'".

Mother will always remind us 

that though our hopes dangle 

like the testicle of the pendulum clock,

still there will be sweet-marah 

from the eyes of the crying rock.

The day after her last debate with Newton,

I decided to creatively forget to dress,

I decided to consciously unmask myself.

That day, I hung old skins in new shelves 

and ran into the streets shouting Eureka!

I knew my mother had finally won the debate,

I knew she had to leave for she was fulfilled,

she was convinced that she had taught her children,

the Archimedes of existence.

SOONEST

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LEVITATE - (worthy of mention)

Rising fumes

On two lane roads

Creeping out

Of disgruntled dangling exhausts

Rising anger

At Bus stops

As fares rise

Exponentially

Rising joy

When dusty feet

Approach home

And loving hands

Reach for swollen feet

Rising envy

At stockened feet

In posh Lexus jeep

Always

Something rises

But today

Hope has risen

In the heart that

Sauntered across

A path uncertain

And got crushed

Hope unfurls

And curls around

This fragile heart

Today

Hope is risen

Kemibon

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MY PEN CRIES AND THE INK DRIES – (worthy of mention too)

On the surface of a land where milk and honey should flow

But its people suffer from the scarcity of petrol.


And joy sleeps as the land slips
Into the brink of a war that totally ravages a nation
A clash of ethnicity, religion, and an unanswered national question

Is Niger-Area just a collage of people-groups incompatible and
hurriedly married in a union doomed to fail?

Or is she an entity with a destiny for greater things whose challenges
will come to pass and whose present sufferings will fade?


My pen shifts as my thoughts drift

I find my solace from the Middle-east: "the greatest story ever told"
Where way back in the first century, a Man died to save our souls

So joy awakens as my mind is taken
For when the human race fell into suffering and pain
Jesus the Son of God came down to share likewise in the same
For us all, He went through the pains of earth and the horrors of hell
But His suffering and death is not the end of the story we tell
For at the end, Jesus did not just suffer and die, He is risen
And at the end, Nigeria does not just suffer and smile, she is risen

My pen tried to defy the Man crucified
But when I found that He rose in the midst of five hundred witnesses
Wait; FIVE HUNDRED witnesses? my doubts, they don't persist

Now joy stands upon this land
For regardless of your culture, background or religion
Jesus died for every man in all continents and every region
So, if between terrorism in the North and secession from the East,
Naija is bleeding
We will remember that between the crucifix and the heavenlies, the
human race is risen
And even if the national problems be risen like the fuel price
The Eagle becomes a Phoenix, out from the ashes, saying: "Still, I rise"

My pen speaks to end this piece:
Let every Nigerian from the four cardinal points look up to Him
For He gathers His descendants from the West, and brings them from the East
Saying to the North "Give them up!"
And to the South "Do not keep them back"
Do not hold them back, He says
"Let her come with her Hijab and yet come taste of the rugged Cross,
that's where her true dignity hides
Let them come with their Talismans and yet grip on the rugged Cross,
that's where the true power really lies
The Name of Jesus remains the same on every tongue regardless of the
language we come speaking
For whether Jesus is Yisa, Chukwu or Jesu; by His name Nigeria is risen!

Tolu Daniel

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CLIMAX

When you are the protagonist in your own story
Its easy to always be the hero
Even nero wasn't a villain
Nor would hitler if he'd won.
This is the climax
the calm before the storm
Every 365 days ends in a 31st
The dreamers have risen, again

It is justice that we do not pen our lives
Because even the leftist who bash capitalism
Would capitalize on this
We are all the same. Dreamers

I learnt to stop day dreaming by accepting my nightmares
I've learnt the only difference between an hospital and hotel is state
of its residents
I've learnt that a falling star was never raised
I've learnt that Hope is the opiate on which religion thrives.
Im learning that my country is most hopeless because we have replaced
common sense with religion.

Religion!
Why was Jesus betrayed with a kiss
Why does the sun rise in the east
Yet it remains darkened by terror
Violent blood shed and unspeakable horrors

Before I get lost in my words
Give me my cross
And show me my Judas
Lead me on Golgotha's path
If that is the price of greatness
I will break banks
Flooding rivers with bitter tears

Olamide Santos

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       ‘RISEN’        

We have asked what yet is to be raised.

We have seen Heroes and Villains,

We have heard about Angels and Demons,

We have heard cries of Happiness and Sadness,

We have heard of solutions yet problems persists,

We know of security and insecurity,

We know of Peace and War,

We know of Joy and Pain,

We know of the Good and the Evil in Men,

We know of Relief and Disaster,

We know of the term appropriation and misappropriation,

Don’t you?

Or should I remind you of what has risen…

Broken promises,

Whistles blown,

Septic tanks used as cash vaults, 

Storage tanks storing currencies instead of water,

Funds missing,

Long queues in stations,

Bombs in market squares,

Kidnappings,

Hunger in the streets,

Kids roaming streets with trays on their heads,

Cement screeded floor used as chairs and desks in schools,

Oh! Should I go on..!

Huhn!

I heard a musician once said that the pen steals more than the gun,

Authority stealing pass society,

“No agreement today, no agreement tomorrow…

No agreement today, no agreement tomorrow…

Argument, argument, argue…

Arguments, argument, argue…

Everybody dem argue…

No wonder na stalemate”!

Hush! Be quiet!!

Trouble dey sleep u wan go wake am!

Hmmm!

Whether we plant flowers or weeds,

The Choice is ours, they both grow!!

Asapen

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ROLL THE DICE

A child grows up with no father or mother
No one to care for her or hug her
Yet she achieves her dreams
It simply means
That child has risen

A man without arms feeds himself with his feet
Paints masterpieces with his teeth
Continuously refuses to admit defeat
He definitely has risen!

A woman who has lost her hearing
Doesn't waste time complaining and comparing
Instead she sings for others to hear
Sweet melodies loud and clear
She too has risen!

Calmly swimming turbulent seas
Happiness is the magic key
The sun shines through the rain
Whether during pleasure or pain
So push me hard, over and over again
I stumble...I fall...and then
In full blast I rise

I have risen!
For I'm a circular prism
I've marked all my horizons
Now place your limitations in prison
Open your eyes and be free
Roll the dice
And rise with me!

Erhio

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ASEYORI ROSE WITH ME

Aseyori is Sisi, my sister’s car engine that has refused to die

She does not want an open marriage; she wants you to just be faithful

She is an independent woman, that woman Destiny’s Child wants us to be

Because rich would look great on us

Hello Survivors

Hi

She wears her lip red as rose petals drenched in rain

Because she has been born over and over again

That simple world citizen

I met Aseyori that day I decided to kick my mother’s stomach

She smiled the moment my mother held her stomach

Knowing I was alive

I saw her the day Father danced in his Agbada after I had told him

I passed my secondary school exams

She call my name every time friends and family

Showed their ever comforting love for me

Aseyori raised me

Kubo met Aseyori by the ocean

He cried out for his mother the moment he sensed her presence

Aseyori seemed cold to Kubo

To him she was good on page but lesser in person

He was wrong

Aseyori was his tears and guard when life gave him lemons

And all he hoped for was failure

She taught him lemonade

Kaptain Africa is Aseyori’s friend

Would you believe that?

She got balance and law

Try watching another fight your battles for you

She is Grace and fulfillment

In one hot dog wrap

Aseyori watches you grow for a fee

Living love, beyond your perceptions

Because life is a book

And you are made to listen

Someone said searching for Aseyori

Seemed like chasing shadows

Please move on

For she is not empty and dark

Neither does she cause you to feel

Irrelevant adrenaline moving through your veins

Oh man’s selfish desires

Maslow sensed her presence

So he said there are levels to reach her

But she is everywhere

Even when everything seems physiological

To wake up on the poetic side of life

Standing on words and letters of Grace

Winning the right way

Aseyori planned my life

When it was time, I met Aseyori after my body spent

Was laid into the earth

It had gotten worn after war

Aseyori rose with me

She rose with me

and

Aseyori walked with me to the sun that refreshes

And the meadow that blooms to my next stop.

Abiola Bonuola

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IN THIS DARK PLACE

In this dark place

The mother: words

Fathered by thoughts

Gave birth to these children: actions

Many were aborted

Some died prematurely

The ones living created this reality

This reality is not only read in the pages of a novel

Penned by morbid imaginations

Shocking shock to check its meaning

How is it possible that hell is almost fully filled?

As earth threatens to take its place

In this dark place

The pulse beat of hope is louder

Every second, counts

Not more or less

Exact for all

Actions are words birthed by thoughts

In this dark place

There is life

There is light

There is love

There is justice

There is joy

There is empathy

There is kindness

Kindle it!

Ifeanyi Okwosha     

  

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RISEN, A PHALLIC ENSEMBLE

Stanza 1
He is a wondering minstrel,
Intent on ministering his misdeeds,
He is a truant,
With a wench for a mother,
Yet, fate is beguiled by his piety
He dies a coward's death,
And, like a Shakespeare's sigh,
Is risen to
Torment asinine virgins

Stanza 2
He writes epitaphs to his inglorious
Wayfares,
A memoir sewn with dead men's chests,
And bought with decaying virgin's guilts,
He drinks to the misery of saints,
He fondles his phallic,
And cusses the gods who envy
His pride,
He blesses his path of riotous acrimony,
For in this, he found his true self,
He had died to fate's cupid arrow,
But, now, is Risen,
To offer a wreath to femme fatales

Stanza 3
He sighs a wretched sigh of joy,
He caresses his phallus with
The art of a lover's artistry,
Michelangelo would envy,
He feels no guilt now,
Didn't the good book flatter the phallic?
Men were gods whose mortality died
On Virgin's prides ,
And like the Phoenix,
They rise,
Throbbing with esoteric hunger,
Pushing against the Infamous depravity,
Then an eureka of ecstatic symphony,
Ricocheting off the silent walls,
A testament to his phallus' s medley,
He died that day,
But ,..
Will be Risen ...
Maybe in Hell 's haven tomorrow.

©Teddy Ugonna Richard

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RUMBLE IN THE SKY...

Don't expect the rain, it won't come!

Call your gods

Appease the deity

Shout to the mountains

It will still be another effort in futility.

Our evil thoughts and deeds are converging to hit us

And this time there will be no shielding.

What shall we then do, if truly there is no escape?

Do we heed the Sun?

Or hid from the Sun?

Do we take this fall gracefully?

And accept that the end of Man is here?

Guided by fear, we gave ourselves to vague faith

While the peddlers keep a vogue appearance

Haven't we seen

The footpath of the other wayfarers?

Children crying, afraid of the dark. Adults fearing the Light.

Haven't we seen

The cracks on the wall?

Bodies’ splatted about. Evidence of man's negligence to man.

Haven't we had

Enough of the puff and the coloured liquors?

Sons of perdition

Daughters of Jezebel

Whose trade in stock clouded with vices.

The King's tribesmen are at it again

Shepard boys with bloodthirsty sheep

Herdsmen or headmen?

Conquered forest

Conquered soul

Our maidens held in captivity

Days to weeks, weeks to months

Months to years and few returned vile and empty.

How do we discern the King's mind from his men's counsel?

Mounting promises of better days

Mounting actions of fierce famine ahead.

Crowded market

Groaning faces

For the buyer, for the seller

Every visit shrinks the table.

Is it that our wares has lost its values or our values has lost its wares?

Even the risen Sun

Bought the change

Harsh on skin, telling on health, tough on purse

What shall we call this change?

A blessing or a curse?

Shall we now wish for the days of old in the new?

Or take Men of old away from the new?

Either way

We that will turn the tide are not yet ready.

-Amami H.

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RISEN

We rise from the grasp of mediocrity

By preparing for the unexpected

By expecting everything

A distinction without a definite difference.

We rise from the mire of poverty

Look we’ve made our own glass slippers

Hoping for the strike of that midnight

That will bring our fantasy to reality

We rise from great and grievous mistakes

So respect us like the dead

Talk good things about us

Heck lie about us

Yes make nice lies about us

We rise from bad memories that drown

We cling to them as if they define us

But indeed they don’t, our future does

Our fate lies gently in our hands

Yet we wait like the Jews wait for their messiah

Chisom

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RISEN

Matzo, Roti. Tortilla and the wafer( not to be confused with the "waver/waiver" sold on Nigerian roads

These are species of "breads" which have not risen

Because missing the essentials.

Christ is risen because the essential words were spoken

The essential muscles utilized. 

Risen- a case study in essentialism not the essential commodity scenario prevalent in Venezuela and which we 

experienced in conflation

with our  present Mussolini.

A fate averted because of platforms previously erected.

Risen like the yellow sun, the red crescent and even the other half of the sun

Like Japan, like ISIL, like Biafra.

The essence removed and now mostly matzo, roti, tortilla and the wafer

All significant but somewhat deflated- not rising; not risen

Just there- a constant reminder of the consequences of life without yeast. 

To rise we must have yeast in ourselves, in our bread, in our lives.

The yeast of Hirohito's words

Of Hitlers dynamism

Of Mussolini's carriage

Of God's resurrection power

Of ISIL's dogma

Buhari's sternly deceptive vitae

There must be some yeast  that makes us 

know that we too have risen like the phoenix from whatever hole or dunghill that was dug 

for or built for us.

I must stop here as these words keep having yeast in themselves

When we have risen beyond limits we get back  to death, 

not living tissue but tumours needing not only deflation but traumatic excision- 

the story of all the flags that have risen against the common weal!

ANDREW WHYTE