POEMS READ AT THE LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 12 EPISODE 6 - CHANGES

 

WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH

HOME IS NOT ALWAYS A PLACE

 - (Poem of the month)

 

Home is not always a place, but a moment built

brick by brick, breath by breath, into a house

 

of memory. Where affection calls and there is one

to love. Home is where there is one to love us back.

 

Home is not always a roof, a room, and a bed but

a place to roam, where the heart blooms and stays.

 

Home is not always a place, but meadow of laughter

There the walls are raised joy by joy, happiness by

 

happiness. No angry frown, no selfish wish nor cruel act.

There, there is food for the body and fire for the mind.

 

I have lived in enough places. Home is not always a place.

Set your house on fire. Walls are false pretexts. Be free!

 

Michael Achile Umameh

  

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RHEAVOLUTION O’CLOCK.

It is time!

Time to put money in the insurance account

Time to tell the kids things encountered in a motherless babies home

Time to get in shape for a leap off when the cannister is sighted

Time to get one’s affairs in order

Time to rehearse survival mode, in prison, exile or as guerrillas.

 

Its been the hour for ages now,

But you are just prepping,

Because your innocent son looked into your eyes as the machete was being pulled out of him

And then you saw the reflection of that boy

Who died waving the flag at the bridge, in his eyes.

Peace and unity he said. Because he knew yours will be taken away soon.

 

When the neighbors were gunned down because a chief’s path was blocked,

It was time.

When odi was crying and we unlooked, it was time

When zaki biam was razed and we were deaf to the inferno, it was time.

when herders herded lives into penury, and we snoozed our action for political correctness it was time

When Lekki toll gate was red with human wastes, we unlooked.

IT IS TIME.

 

Ololade Ajayi

 

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FOCUS 

 Isn't it strange that we've been searching for change 

But over the ages nothing really changes 

E go better

E go better

The recurring mantra

We've made it to 2022

But it seems like Change hid in Timbuktu

For everything is still the same

The never ending blame game

Selfishness 

Self-interests

Conceit

Deceit

Disparity

Mockery

We're stuck in the mud

Watching our flag drown in a red flood

Sullied

Bullied

Believing lies

Hoping Justice will fly

But Justice Truth and Peace ran away with Change

No.

Went in search of Change

Let's deceive ourselves again

Maybe it will reduce this pain

Change will arrive

Peace will thrive

There'll be no more lies

No real horror stories

Just progressive victories

Are you with me?

Are you really with me?

I've left that dream

Tired of sleeping?

Tired of weeping?

Before the land is submerged in greed

Before the apples grow without seeds 

Before 2023 beats it's drum

I'll be long gone

A change in location

Is my current destination

Not all calls start with the word 'Hello'

Same way oranges are mostly green and yellow

Are you with me?

Are you still with me?

Focus on the changes

That keep changing

But never really change.

 

 

Erhio Obodo

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AGAIN AND AGAIN

Again and again it comes clearer than a glass of water

with  the same  harmless and deceptive cloak.

 

Again and again it gradually raises its head to oppose glory

throughout ancient times  and even now in modern times

 

Again and again it brings up nothing entirely good

as the aftermath of the sins of Eve are still evident.

 

Again and again,  to intentionally refuse to listen to any news

is a means to at least retain some level of sanity. 

 

Again and again even in trying to mind personal businesses

the average believer, the simple hearted, and everyone should know

 

Again and again it's okay to  reminded 

that the times we live in are simply full of peril and it might not change

 

Esther Okekwuo

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    CHANGES.

Upward or downward,

The road leads yonder,

Left or right,

High upper or Low under!

 

For some,

Chicken soup for breakfast slowly,

Has become;

Frozen fish for dinner only.

 

Many smile,

At the upward movement of prices,

As stock even decreases,

Others cry for low income;

Take home pay,

That no longer takes them home!

Changes!

 

Changes I see,

Changes in economy,

Changes in weather,

Changes in society,

Changes sprouting everywhere,

In every sphere!

Changes,

The only permanent thing,

In the life of man I see,

Changes everywhere,

And in everything I see!

 

Akata I. Lucy.

 //////////////////////////////////////////

 

CHANGE:

 

What you receive after paying more than the amount demanded.

 

What the calculator driven tithe payer, demands from the usher after dropping it of, on the plate.

 

What all politicians purport to stand for, apart from those who are for continuity or who had a transformation agenda; one that operates with the anaemic consistency of the transformer in my hood.

 

Begging the question as to, change to what, continue to where and transform into what?

 

At that point the waters get muddied and we are truly bogged down and hemmed in.

 

Not by the paralysis

of analysis, as there

is no analysis to be paralyzed by; only printed cloth and bags of rice; only stuffed envelopes awash with Petro, tax, gubernatorial and other corruptly obtained and laundered and sometimes fake dollars.

 

Then deflections,

ad hominems and manic claims of entitlement to some manifest destiny.

 

A comedy of fools;

a tragic house of horrors.

 

Mephistophelean flies, from out of the woodwork.

So help us God!

 

We want change but not from Mephistopheles, Apollyon or Abaddon; not from the grandmasters of the craft, who vociferously ask us to give them the mandate or who vehemently claim it is their right to be no more a kingmaker,

but a king.

 

This one, a truly pathetic Lear-like figure- the king,

not the Jet, crying betrayal, betrayal, forgetting that chickens always come home.

He should ask those who love and want good for you.

 

We want change

as metamorphoo- metamorphosis- transformation.

 

We want change

as hupaballoo,

as transcendent excellence.

 

Not outside-in, that's why Decree 2 did not work, could not last.

 

But inside out!

Root, branch and stem;

Cooked, eaten and regurgitated as the change needed by,

We the people!

 

Andrew Whyte

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 NOW AND THEN

 

Chances are that we witness today tomorrow

So take note of the obvious and fear what it obscures

 

As they say “there is none so blind as those who will not see”

 

Take this law at heart because we may call it chance tomorrow or luck or whatever your intellect not your intelligence call it

 

For what we know is a pink unicorn may become may become common

 

Things are lost if you are not searching, you will always find when you search

The threads of fate looms steadily so what will be has been

 

Don’t be afraid of Changes.

 

Chisom

 

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POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 13 EPSIODE 5 - SELF

WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH

I AM YOU – (poem of the month)

(a self-adulation series)

I am you

a steward of

time

 

and

that privileged vessel

called by nature.

 

I am you

a worthy whole of humanity.

 

We are more

we give lives

to the voices in our heads.

 

We are more

we birth lines

that glitters in your nights.

 

I am you

the curious wanderer

at home at every fort.

 

I am you

the reflection

of the sun when days are dark.

 

I am you

the golden ribbon

that beautify the moon.

 

I am you

in your burden

and joy of pulling through.

 

-Amami H.

 

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I AND MYSELF

Greetings my fellow sojourner

I guess that will be the greeting

Of the sun to the moon

In their cycle of give and take

I is, me that refers to

My head

My brain

My body  

My leg

The gift

The tool

Then who am I?

Where do I come from?

Why am I here?

And where do I go from here?

Questions that need answers

Indicating the binary state of existence

The Creator and His creation

The conscious and unconscious

I and my bodies

 

I have wondered

Yes! I have

This I, the self

Like seed must be fed

If it is to grow

Now what do I feast on?

What you sow in the table ever laid

 

Ifeanyi Okwosha              

 

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SELF

My knowledge of self 

Has fallen like a pack of cards 

That we keep the worst part of ourselves to ourselves is not a well kept secret

And when we say we don’t really know a person

It’s true 

Even a person doesn’t know himself 

Not fully

Not completely 

And

It’s because self is always evolving 

We morph into various versions of our selves as life presents us with experiences 

We keep the ugly parts hidden

Careful to flaunt the beautiful parts

We elevate our best sides

So that we can be thought worthy of love

eni a fe la mo

A o mo eni to feni*

Loving is harder because we never know who our bedmate truly is

A mind boggling thought if it is dwelled upon 

The core of self is vulnerable 

We only let our guard down when we trust

Even then we keep a little part of the unknown deeply buried

We chase validation

We fear rejection

To acknowledge self is to look yourself straight in the soul

And realize that you are just an imperfect bumbling unfinished 

Product

A work in progression 

A human just

being

 

 

Kemibon

*we know who we married but we don’t know who married us

 

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CIRCUMSTANCES OF REALITY CHECK

When you walk alone, on this earth.....
There you know who will comes and stay;
There you will know those who entitled to the course ;
Sometimes you have to run and see ...
Who runs to see what the cause ....
But the sweet sour response is that ...
At times , the ones we tend to see
Are busily waiting for where you will land
Or surprisingly there will be no one.
It is just yourself and self again.....

When you are left alone in the middle of the sea.....
There you will know the real fisher’s after you ,
There you will know the sharks and whales ;
There you will know those will come to your rescue ,
Those who will come with boats
Those will swim to your end.
But to your beautiful eyes;
Those you are expectant of
Are coming down with
Hook and line
You will know you only
Have yourself and self again ......


When you are left alone to fly,
There you will know those who are going
To pray for the sun to shine severely
There you will know those who.....
Will pray for your safe landing
There you will know those who are going
To shoot you to die.....
But to your smile
You will know your loved ones...
Are the ones who are secretly
Plucking your wings
Even getting your wings wet;
You have one true friend;
It’s just yourself and self again ......

When you are left alone in the darkest place
There you will know those who will come after you ;
There you will those who are going to shout
Your name ;
There you will know those who are going to
Lit up their lights to find you
But to your eyes
There will be no one
Not even the one who promised you
Security
It just you and yourself ........

When you left alone on earth ....
When you are left in the middle of the sea .....
When you are left alone to fly ....
When you are left alone in the darkest place ....
Be expectant of yourself rather than anyone
For this chess we all are playing ;
Is a closed but opened book.



Aba Absolute

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A SIP OF RIO 

 

I've told my story a thousand times

Didn't you read between the rhymes?

The lines you adored

Full of hints I poured

Into covered urns

Exposed my world

Go back and lift the cover

And you'll soon discover

Right there on your bookshelf

A story of a story within itself 

My dreams and cares

My hopes and fears

Hidden wishes

Favorite dishes

Everything

Yet Nothing

For I kept the key to myself

Which means to find it

You must be smart

And understand abit about my heart

But it's right there

In full glare

For the world to see

Everything you need to know about me

Bon appetit

 

 

Erhio

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WANDERER

They said time heals,

but pain is my nurse.

tired and panting like a chased dog,

I want breath as a baby wants milk.

How long shall I wait for the peace I crave for?

time will be the judge.

"Time?" I asked being curious,

Time is a liar deceiving most of us.

 

How long shall I be a wanderer?

seeking home like a lost child.

I feel hopeless like a desert that can't have rainfall.

Again I hope time will bring fortune,

but it is bringing torture,

I want break from life.

my strength is passing away with cloud.

 

Time is my oxygen,

but I have no idea of what is left.

how long shall it take to reach home?

only time could tell.

but I wonder if the oxygen remaining shall be enough to reach home.

 

Whatever the amount that remains,

I shall find a spot to take break from life troubles.

who knows someone might find me there and take me home.

and if not, I shall rest peacefully,and lie at a nearby spot just a bird does in its nest.

I worry myself not about what time brings me.

 

Elijah Akinboade

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YOURSELF

Don’t do this to yourself.

Don’t let this flood in your eyes wash away your joy.

Trickling down your face, with your pain afloat.

With the watery caress of a broken heart.

Let’s sail back on memory seas, we’d berth where you were still yourself,

When your smiles lit the dark and your laughter serenaded our ears,

When you silently danced in the joy of your solitude.

But now, you’re crowded with sad thoughts that have left you lonely.

Don’t do this to yourself,

Don’t shield yourself from a love that’s armed with fulfilled desires,

Let me shower you with affection to wash the pain away

And watch as happiness flows in again

Bayo

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SELF:

 

The selfie stick as a fashion accessory.

Failing that, the hooked hand that can click from any angle and post directly.

 

A sign and symbol

of this narcissist age;

this controlling zeitgeist.

 

The self- Id, ego, superego.

 

The conscious.

Self- conscious.

Subconscious.

Unconscious.

Super conscious.

 

Enlightened, illumined, energized. 

 

The self as a reference point-

my truth; calling things that be

as though they were not, 

in inverse faith- fluidity and relativity

in one fell swoop!

 

Overturning sociocultural

order on a puff of smoke,

a river constructed of spittle.

 

Self image.

Self awareness.

Self aggrandisement.

Self expression.

Self indulgence.

Self referring.

Self actualizing.

 

Give me, give me,

give me, my name

is Jimmy.

 

On to the point of opportunity

riding a dangerous wind.

 

The point at which the self surrenders, yields, submits and enters into the seventh day Sabbath rest of the Deity

 

Andrew Whyte

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THINGS YOU WILL MISS 

It’s not love if it doesn’t hurt

Real love is when you stand at the jagged edge of hope,

Sometimes you leap, sometimes you don’t

Sometimes someone catches you

Sometimes you crash

But Self-love is like when everyone is an alien

and you are space, everyone is distant from you

Though in space you never run out of things to discover

But then, you will miss the weight of things

You will miss the impact of things on things

You will miss the sun bathing of the tropical sun

In the smile of others

You will miss the sunrise of friendships

Because you are cocooned into yourself

 

Chisom