/there’s a body/struggling not to/ drown in a body/an ocean/at a state of unrest/and there’s/ you/
// (I) i [a] drew down/a drawbridge/ down/a path i never thought i’d cross/ that caused the dirt to speak, telling me, nne, not sleeping would leave a strain on your forehead, green veins y’know/ veins, looking like the pathway to a house, i know/a path that had the nerve/ to kill God./
[b] let the breath in me/ give life to a man/call thunder from an altar/ speak in tongues/banish myself/ from an existence/give myself a chance to deprive myself/ of the solitude i always slept in./
(II) you [a] came/like the second coming/ of a land-wind, but/like Christ/ like God came down, for elijah/ burned a sacrifice/let his fire lick up/ the evidence of an existing death/ yea, you’re a god./
[b] blindfolded/a breath that gave you redness of eyes/for drunkenness/ like the sleep i can’t have isn’t enough/to bury me, in that ocean. /still, i’m wanted./ // you spoke/created another world [for us]/with your words/built nature, because/ you are god/except/i breathed in you./
(III) we [a] threw angels down the earth we left/gave unrest to hades/with only a kiss we birthed another world; with just touches/not like momma’s/but/like we’re searching/for rest/for sleep/ in minds we stole./
[b] had a bath/ the way a mother washes her new born: carefully/except/ we’re still searching our bodies/not for answers/but questions/of how a god survives mortality/the dark angels know the answer, that’s why they fell/ why; we use the word “fall” when we talk about love/why; we can’t sleep just yet. not yet. not just yet./not wanting to poke a night into day, yet/when there’s a fire, still burning/hotter than ever/ even lucifer knows, hell doesn’t burn like us./
blasphemy’s cooking from a poor man’s eyes, nose, lips; steaming hot. insipid steak on his tongue, he still thinks he’s not caught. he’s burning & he’s not burned alive. he has taken the priestly gift from the temple: he’s fearless [you think?]. staining the wine cups, the gold dust, staining it with his uninvited entrance.
“i’m not a sinner,…. i was just hungry”
he tells the priest, like it’s a game [i mean, we’re all hungry too – we’re humans for christ’s sake!]: like it’s a bet made with friends on who’s fearless enough to stain a cathedral bright red without calling down a curse on himself. still, he pricks the meat hard & watches it bleed (unmoved), until he’s unable to wash his hands.
In a village, a baby was born. With a rib stuck to her throat: a golden scepter to choose a prince.
Akuko Ifo gave her a name, with a fairytale ending blending into royalty.
A village eaten by ribbed men with a missing rib; but with just a rib she drew landmarks, cutting down trees with silent words in her Eze’s throat. Humble in pride, she winnows her will.
She’s Lolo. Eze’s name clinging to hers because her blood blindfolded him. She tells him, “Obim, I feel hot”. And he brings a fan. A fan that blows his crown into her hands.
When her licensed scepter speaks silently, then we hear him growling, “Oya, send him out of here!”; then someone dies. But the Lolo still sits quietly like the queen she is. They don’t see her, so they only ask, “Where is the King?”.
With tiny beads on her tiny waist and a dignified ring, she rubs her palms on her husband’s sweaty face and asks him to scream, “Igbo Kwenu!”.
“Yah!”, comes the response; with no idea that the “invisible” Lolo dominates the Eze’s crown.
“those who do not understand true pain can never understand true peace” – pain (from naruto).
my tomoe sees you: you jog then run; turn the crescent moon to a reflection of the upside down. you laugh; i laugh too not wanting to understand what i already feel: just a replica of the face you took from my face; that is you wore me so i wore you backwards to synchronize the heartbeats of the people who are dying yet, acting like it’s all child’s play and our feelings are mere toys with knives ready to strip us naked: aorta by aorta. like you won’t wake up one day and tell me, it’s over. but still, it won’t faze me: what i already know never haunts me, when i understand so well two opposite emotions trapped in a body: both, i’ve felt both, from you.
lips break like broken lines except there’s still an ellipsis: a beating heart; one dot after another, and zigzags on that groaning ecg.
i don’t know why don’t understand how a heart breaks itself, except that i feel it all the time: that suffocating weight that’s breaking the machine, connected to the fragile part of me; it’s telling me, it’s enough already, your heartbeats’ beating me too hard breaking us to a straight line.
a 180° line i wish to turn into the afterlife; away from these lying doctors whispering to my patched up body,
how can one b..breathe when the heart has finally agreed to kill itself?! how can you t..tell me to grow old in a cage w..when i can release myself?! is it love? selfishness?
one has to leave when one has to when the earth doesn’t remember you but is ready to welcome you back despite your epic failure, your disobedience to the doctors, the resonance of when God told the first humans, you must return to this dust;
tell me a story, a mishap that happened in the ’90’s; or should happen. don’t warn don’t bless don’t preach
to me, my future already, is the fortune cookie i’ve stepped on so many times in just a short time. so hold your peace, close my eyes, take a piece of me out of my mind & see for yourself:
i know the fucking future.
i know, lies play a huge role in your incantations. so, tell me a story of the past. tell me, what’ll happen next after a mother miscarries one who would’ve been a stillborn; but she lay still, locked souls with the unseen let herself be born – someone said it’s god. i have no idea.