Thursday, March 30, 2017

Dimensions

Photo: Somewhere on the internet

Take me to a dimension
Where my motives are voiced with passion,
Take me to where I’m known as I am.
Take me to the revelation of me.
Talk to me about the inner man,
Open my eyes wide, make me see
The secret things that give definition
To the little things that make up the whole.
Touch my essence, make the weak strong;
Lead a stomped man into the fold,
To where I belong and I’m accepted.
Take me in your arms bring me home.
You’re all I’ve ever coveted.
Take me to where I’d see your face instead.

Akpan



Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Lovely Machine

Photo Courtesy: Getty Images

You are a lovely machine;
From the grime you bring out the sheen.
They twitch your belly button,
Punch in the coordinates,
You spit out the mutton.
You’re a self-made subordinate.

You’re a pretty toy;
A fickle human alloy,
A flesh and blood cold robot.
Their world revolves around you
Because what they want you got.
But you aint nothing but a tool.

You are a lovely machine.
For peanut you bruise your shin,
But no one will hold your heart
Even when it’s cold and dark.
All they wanna do’s use you
So you consent and play the fool.

Akpan



Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Foot Soulja

For all the aid workers who lost their lives during a
Boko Haram bombing of a refugee center.
Photo Courtesy: Youtube.Com


So glad we had you when we had you;
You pulled in a harvest in the desert,
Somehow you sprinkled a glitter of dew
On the dunes in the threat of a duster.

So glad we found you where we found you;
Explicitly ready, willing and quite able.
We asked for a yard and you walked a mile,
You came with open arms and a smile.

So glad you gave up what you gave up;
You wrapped warmth round a cold shoulder,
Built a family from the ruins of war;
You’re a sister, a brother and, a foot soulja.

Akpan


Winner Take All

Mark Henry
Photo Courtesy: tjrwrestling.net

You shudda killed me
When you had the chance.
Shudda slit my throat
And sealed the deal fast.
But you left me bruised.
You left me bleeding,
But I’m still breathing.

You shudda done me
When you had me down.
You only hurt me
But I’ve come around.
You shudda known me,
I can drown a crowd.
You can’t take me out,
It’s too late, boy scout.

Stand forth like a man.
Let’s settle old scores.
Guess you lost your chance,
So, it is winner take all.

Akpan



Moving Mountain

Aid Workers in Nigeria
Photo Courtesy: premiumtimes.com

Nobody but you could stick out your neck
Into the death zone, to save from the wreck
Souls whose fate tottered on the lip of doom.
Nobody but you could throw out your plans
And snatch a burning twig with your bare hands.
Then inject healing into bleeding wounds.

There is no here without your dare.
Your hope flowed like a fountain.
In the boom your voice rang out clear.
You took charge like a captain.
Earth stooped as you relieved the scared,
And that’s cause you’re a moving mountain.

Nobody but you could trample neglect
Into the ground and, offer these rejects
Solace and warmth, in the heat of battle.
Nobody but you could contend with the tower of
Terror, and step up your game to favor
The displaced then, offer rest for their troubles.

Akpan



Monday, March 27, 2017

Unwishes

Photo Courtesy: Alamy.com

If wishes were horses,
I could make a living out of misery
And cash on my losses.
I could shoot begging to luxury.
If I could build castles in the sky,
I could tend a garden on the clouds,
I could make the stars sigh,
And repaint twilight in shades of brown.

But wishes are fickle things;
You can’t trade one for a glass of milk,
And you can’t unwish one tragedy,
You can’t wish your rags into silk.
You can’t wish your wishes were magic,
And you can’t find one living genie;
Their memories gather dust in some attic.
Wishes are horses you win thro dealing.

Akpan



Question I Am

Internally Displaced Child, Nigeria
Photo Courtesy: newsweek.com

Will I ever find that someone who is
The answer to the question that I am?
That person who is the meaning of me
Of myself, who can make my feet stand firm?
Will I ever find that specialty in
Out of the way places or by wishful
Thinking? This is someone I gatto be.
Will I be fulfilled when my search is thro?
I’m busting with questions where’s the reply?
I gatto be the dream that haunts me;
Will I find truth in the black of my eye?
When he comes will he be on the real?
But if he’s the answer that I seek,
Will he not make the parts of me sync?
Will I ever find that someone who can
Offer straight answers to the question I am?

Akpan



Sunday, March 26, 2017

The Road Most Traveled

Courtesy: rabbisacks.org

One road forked at the intersection
Like a Y with its own wherefore.
There, perched on the tail of the twin lanes,
Drenched to the leather of my skin,
I was found yet lost in the chance game.
But it wasn’t as tough as it seemed;
I’ve been here before and I’ll be back.
My whole life has been shaped on this track,
I’m versed in it like the lines on my palm,
Every gravel, pothole and streetlamp.
There’s nobody knows me like the road.
If I should stray, the road will find me
And hold me and point me towards home.
I’m always on the road even in
The darkest part of the darkest cove.
It’s beaten its path thro an alley;
I rode its trail right thro a valley,
On the road, flung on the wings of love,
I foray into a strange matchless world.
I’ve caught thorns with the sole of my feet,
But the road’s been faithful thro the heat.
Even if prospects turn bleak I’ll go.
Two roads, two destinations, one me;
The road most traveled takes me home.

Akpan



Saturday, March 25, 2017

We Can't Go Home Anymore

IDP Girl in Nigeria
Photo Courtesy: blogs.cfr.org

We can’t go home anymore.
We docked our ship on a strange shore,
And turned our backs on first love.
We tossed it all for the bombs
And wandered far from native soil,
But home is all we long for.

We buried our hearts in mass graves;
We left ‘em there for keepsakes.
Home aint what it used to be,
So we seek what the lost seek
When home is no longer home.
We’ll return someday we hope

Yet now we can only wait
Cause home has been laid to waste.
Even though we yearn for it,
We will not set foot within,
And tho weeds outgrow our crops—
What good’s food to a cooked goose?

And if beasts occupy our courts,
And rats feast on our thatched roofs,
We’ll survive; life does go on.

We can’t go home anymore.

Akpan