WETIN MY CHURCH DO FOR ME

Na so so hunger wire me

I run go meet my pastor

He com dey search for something

I think say na money

He comot tithe register

Na him economy crash

I no com get cash

I go meet church

Where I dey pay offering

They tell me say money no dey.

I wonder where all my money go.

I contribute money for church university

They talk say na God work

I even help them build am

After the school complete

My salary no fit send my pikin go the school

Pastor say make I be church worker

I work well well

All my money and time I give dem

Small contribution like dis

I go chuk hand for pocket

I no sabi say

 na the money na him pastor

 Go use buy private jet

And him wife limousine

Me still dey use my benz; leggediz benz

My church dey collect taxes pass government

Even the one wey they suppose give Caesar

They go ask for am

For Sunday we dey give offerings wey get different names

Tuesday na to sow seed

Thursday na prayer offering

I com dey wonder,na who dey do the work?

God or pastor

Make una no stone me o

But as I sit down now

I still dey think wetin church do for me

Even when person die

They no go ask if him be Christian

They go ask which church him dey go

ROUSE OF THE SOIL

My legs dance!

Dance! I said.

For the ancestors blow you a flute

The spirits of the land play you drums.

But you say. . .

The song by the gods

Is a bitter pill,

It churns my tummy.

I won’t dance.

You, son of the soil dance!

Dance! I said.

For the ancestors blow you a flute

The spirits of the land play you drums.

Aha! Eeeeh!  Igbo kwenu!

The song of the gods

Drives my spirit into a frenzy

And I dance.

Dibia!

Pour out a libation

Let us celebrate

For I have the lips of the gods

But not their status

In the spirit land

My ancestors call me

 A reincarnation of Onigbo

The mouth of the Igbo’s.

Who art thou?

THROES OF SACREDNESS

I walked through that darkness of sorrow

And saw men dancing

At the crossroad of sacrifice

A burning fire beckoned at me

Around it, they danced

And laughed

I grew weary,

Not self pity but a fight

They had done the same

My knees crashed

The fire burned

The party stopped

They whispered

We are the pillars of Africa

Fail us not

WATERS OF ORIGIN

Once  .  .  .

My eyes saw what they refused to believe

I waited like the long travelled Saharan camel

Thirsty and thirsting. . .

I longed and panted like the deer

For waters of clean origin

Once. . .

My eyes saw what they refused to believe

The human sacrifice to the gods,

The sacrifice of an osu

Blood must be spilt!

The land must drink

Once . . .

My eyes saw what they refused to believe

The dotted leopard playing with a lamb

The spotted cheetah eating grass

Africa must remain Africa

The birth of all mankind

Once . .

My eyes saw what they refused to believe

The sugar coated skin of my queen

Beautiful as the palm tree

She I saw

And my eyes refused to believe

DARKER THAN WHITE

I paint you with my words

Ugly or beautiful,

Good or bad.

I still paint you

Who says?

The book of life is not black

Or that black is not life

The gods

They call dark black

And night. . .

Even black is pure

Says the gods

FOR THE GODS

I laugh…

I laugh not alone but with the gods

For they have confirmed

That a leper can also marry a princess,

That a beggar on the floor is blessed than the rich man on the table

Beautiful things are not for all

And not all tongues taste honey

For the gods are just, yes they are

The youth’s arms, strength they give

His cranium, but a pinch and sallow

The old men, wise sayings give

Their arms, but a bleak shadow of vigour past,

An old man’s rag is costlier than the youth’s shiny garb

Yes, the gods are just.

I seek depths,

To see, to touch, the realm of ancient wisdoms

But what man dare aspire to the gods’ status?

I am but minute, humbly taking the hand that I am dealt.

Written by: Mbamalu Socrates

Edited by: Adediran Adeyemi

THE STUPID BOY

There he sits cross-legged

Cigar in mouth; a smoking god

Love, they say is for fools

He included

Who is she?

A lucky bitch that doesn’t know she is a lucky bitch

And he?

The stupid boy that accepted her

Two they came…..

Preaching his love, not Christ’s

A golden calf to be bowed to

They, myopic and blinded in vision

He puffed and puffed again

Two idiots who knew he not

Aaaaaah, he the stupid boy

Always falling in love