Friday, 4 March 2011

Droplets on a Journey

It is raining
I can see droplets on my window panes
As they form
Like a Foetus
Many of them

At first slowly, they grope for their way
Like toddlers
Struggling and clashing with each other
Like war

Their pace quicken as they become distinct
Like adults
Their pace quicken even more
Every drop on its own path
On a journey downwards
At the mercy of Gravity

Some are fast
Some are faster
Some are slow

My eyes follow
As they leave countless traces on the smooth transparent surface of the window panes
Like tears

I watch as they disappear
Merging with a mass of other droplets
Where they continue their journey beyond my eyes

Like death.

© Emeka Okereke, The Hague 26th Feb., 2011.

Dedicated to Goddy Leye, the Camerounian artist who died on the 19th of February 2011.

Thursday, 24 February 2011

Home Coming

I am looking for a story to take home
One which speaks of my escapades in a whole
Light enough to fit into a gift box

I am looking for a story to take home
To you my friend
Whose home has become a living hell
Replaced by the fantasies of overseas

You wonder
What could be yonder?
How much do you ponder
If you’ll go under?

The Sea is cold in this part of the world
And fences awaits your welcome
If you are not fished out by dawn

I am here to tell you a story
Far from home
Far from what you have been told:
Movies are fictions
Television only a fool’s vision
Up here, we are slaves shackled by our inventions
Confused by the sight of our shadows
As our towers tower above us – suppressing, suffocating
We are not blind, our visions are just blurred
We can see the end of the world
We are saving up for it
By the blood of the many whom we oblige to die our deaths for us
Shed our tears for us

Let no bling blind you
You are who you are
Not where you are
Breathe life into your bones
Bath in nature’s endless showers
And you will see it working for you from your doorstep
Be alive at all mornings
And the night will not leave you lonely
The ladder is a rung at a time
It will be wrong to assume it’s all rosy
When in fact you are the Rose

I have journeyed a long distance with this
Here, it is for you
And there, on the side of the box it says:
“To you my beloved friend, a little souvenir, far away from home”

© Emeka Okereke, The Hague, 21 Feb. 2011

Friday, 28 January 2011

A Warning Sign

Be careful what you do
You might end up a fool
A tool of mehem
We live in a world where there is no absence of sorrow
No time to borrow
But in love we must follow
If we must live through tomorrow

Kill the greed in you
That true wealth may ressurect from that death
Make hay while the sun shines
For soon it will be night
There is no day like the other

Life is a journey
The longer it seems, the shorter it gets
Every minute is a million possibilities compressed into moments
Serve you body but do not starve your soul
Fill your heart with desires, but remember it consumes like fire

you will be a better slave if it was out of choice
Be You
Do not wish

Do not wish your life away

© Emeka Okereke, Lagos 20/01/11

Monday, 17 January 2011

Morning Dream

The morning is a warm host
Not so often are we blessed by its embrace
Cold air enveloping...soothing
Ushering us to the first light of the day
A process gradual and patient
Now I stand in its midst
Savouring the voices of the early creatures
Soon it will be sun
And those humans will be up again
To kick me out of my morning dream.

©Emeka Okereke. Lagos, 09/01/2011

Friday, 7 January 2011

Mind your Own Mind

Feed the mind
Nourish it
But do not worship it
It's a masterpiece, but could easily become your master

A gift never like any other
Very dirty with imaginations void of borders
One part of it dreams, while the other day-dreams
both lie in wake for each other
Even in your sleep

Never let it sleep nor stop
Movement is to the mind as it is to the wind
It could be fresh air or hurricane
Whichever, there is a force!
Armed with a creative will
To make the invisible Invincible

Follow the train of your thoughts
As long as you are in it
Endeavour to be the captain on the wheels

Mind your own Mind

© Emeka Okereke,
Ethiopian Airlines, 11th December 2010

Basking in the Radiant Star

Holy is the night
So holy that words only cannot describe
A precious gift worth more than a thousand frankincense
For saints as for sinners

As so imperfect as I am
I feel the perfection of this Love
The Joy of the day freed my wings from the cold harmattan
And filled my nostrils with soothing fragrance of the desert wind

I rejoice hand in hand with those in whose hands I placed the trust
Of friendship and family
Wishing that this feeling be contagious and airborne

It is the end of another year
Even though many roosters and broilers die today in the harsh burners of festive meals
We still wake up to yet another crow
Many tried to work against the light
But darkness is still in flight

Money is the sources of riches
But health encompasses wealth
I am among the blessed, alive
That is an understatement

With every ounce of my being
I will bask in this gift
Worth more than a thousand frankincense

© Emeka Okereke, 26th December 2010

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

In The Land of Dignitaries

In the Land of Dignitaries

Many were called but few were called to choose

And placed at the centre of the country road

Where all goodies never elude their long throat

From where I stand I see snaky hills surrounding man-made mansions

Gwarinpa!* An estate almost as big as a state

Created by one already dead despite his everlasting wealth.

But one dead and thousands to go

And in other to keep alive, they steal

They steal the future of the people in other to nourish their present

They erect grotesque structures and set up gigantic accounts for their lineage yet unborn

While those alive are made to watch the sole of their own feet bleed as they walk the unending road, which only gets steeper and steeper with every climb.

You are welcome to our capital of excellence. We have more shopping malls than schools, and should there be a need for our children to be educated, we send them abroad to foreign lands where they learn how to speak with their nose, walk without their feet and eat without their hands.

Youths are the leaders of tomorrow, but that would be after all the fathers of October First* are dead.

“Who will save me?” says the son with a prodigal father

Who will save us from our own fathers!

The cries of the children are muffled by accentuated sounds of gbedu

The drums beat as we pay homage to utter foolishness and the worst scenery of mind poverty.

Chief! Oga kpata kpata! Egbόn! All are names given to those who are more equal than the others

While they bask in glories which every minute announces the doom of yet another great dream for a nation so blessed.

Yes, we love dancing, and we pride in our dexterity. We are natural dancers.

We could “dance, dance, dance, and forget our sorrows”.

But I ask: who is more foolish?

The dancer or the drummer?


* Gwarinpa estate is situated in Abuja the Capital City of Nigeria. It was commissioned by the late Nigerian dictator Sani Abacha during in his corrupt reign. It is the largest estate in Nigeria and all of West Africa. Most of the houses in this estate are owned by many past presidents, governors and senators who amass incredible amounts of wealth through corruption.

* October First, Nineteen Sixty was the day Nigeria gained independence from Great Britain, most of the so-called fathers of Independence who assumed leadership in effect are still alive today and actively in power.

© Emeka Okereke