Showing posts with label 30 poems in 30 days.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 30 poems in 30 days.. Show all posts

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Day 29: In This Position





I

In this position
My story is an exception-
A passionate execution.
My beginning
Was at the inception of misery;
Multiplied opposition-
Human and supernatural
And now lament is ritual.
I am a predestined individual
But it don’t seem that my faith’s got collateral.
Since my beginning
Tragedy has defined the essence
Of my existing
Now I reminisce
In this place of memory’s evanescing.
Cause from my childhood
The good I dreamt
About youth
Remained true fantasies-
Fairy tale excesses.
The streets are the crematorium of destinies,
The cemetery of dreams.
And nobody else has been schooled like me
On this thesis.
I’m letting my pen bleed
As I preach with my soul’s ink
On the lethal repercussion of human greed.
See me in flesh and blood
Rotting in poverty’s spot,
Evil super-imposed before my eyes.
In this gangster’s paradise,
It’s difficult to breathe
Cause the polluting multiplies.
I have witnessed the sun bow down to darkness,
I have struggled with the rage of madness,
I’m living in the eclipse of goodness.
Surviving the time is impossible.
The days are apocalyptic
And decay is inevitable.




II

In this position
My mission has reached a conclusion.
As I battle this pollution
Stash’d in a corner
Like some wasted leftover.
Take a journey thro’ the windows of my eyes
Into the catacomb of a persecuted mind
If you can visualize
What you can’t feel.
I sweat blood to earn a meal
And that was no big deal
Cause my nightmare was kill.
I lived in a mansion
But situation had a passion.
I battled my demons
With terror devised weapons.
Lions, three times my size
With hell’s option for compromise.
But then, I had the end in view
Like a chain-reaction on cue.
The tears betrayed my eyes,
Made it impossible to hide the several sighs.
Money answered all things
Affection became one of those things.
Friendship’s deceit
Hurt deeply like the betrayer’s kiss.
Mates dropped out of school
Like what’s the use?
No one gives one damn about youths;
Not Papa’s tools
That didn’t provide enough food.
And since there ain’t no job opportunity
In the hood
Creativity is one fat bull.
Trauma follows me everywhere,
Hopelessness fogs the atmosphere.
It rains on a sunny day.
And that’s the cost
I have to pay
Since I came to be in this position.



Akpan



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Saturday, April 7, 2012

Strobelight


From the North
An army as commoving as the Harmattan
Declare the arrival of Nok-
A procession of Kemetian titans
Aiming history like a weapon.
Conquering warriors of the tribal divide.

Sons of nativity;
These have been charged with Time’s keeping.
Ancestral progeny
As complete as the effects of a skilled hunter.
They traverse the spine of the Nile
Like lost things marked for the macabre
Till the time of their appearing steps in the strobelight.

Storm clouds of inventive revolutionists muster.
From the Cape of the Town souljas arise
And stand or their history dies.

How are the mighty risen!
Heroes of Sheba origin
Gaining on destiny with chants of ancient ditties.
Men acquainted with courage rooted in the morning of creation.

To fear is abomination.
Dark-skinned, pure hearts;
A rare species of men divinely gifted.
Charged by purpose.
Armed with a pen
Until a darkened history be rewritten
And perhaps, relived with renewed vigor.

Sound the gongs of war!
Behold men and women not used to breaking tradition:
A custom seeded in the release of genius.

Weave a dance, therefore,
To celebrate the home-coming of our champions;
Offspring of past tumult.

Souls who are decided and will remember
The ways of their fathers and mothers.
Deserving reverence reserved for gods alone,
Whose very lives point the way home.



Akpan
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