WHEN I AM GONE BY OFEM UBI
Dear family My life like every other is a journey A perfect example of a withering flower And every passing day leads me close to my inevitable certainty When I depopulate earth Flowers will litter the feet of my stone than when I existed Tears potent enough to flood my desert lungs and quench my dead thirsty soul So when I am gone Sugarcoat not my obituary with candies of lies When my name is wiped off earth’s slate Sprinkle not salt of false words on my corpse Do not spray fairy tales of my perfection Don’t photo shop or frame images of my obsequies to portray a portrait of an undaunted legend Cos the world has witnessed endless exits of icons gone too soon and there have been several glorious home calls But instead tell the world the truth And cover me with dust of solemn goodbye hymns Tell…
THE PERFECT DATE ARENA BY OFEM UBI
We don’t need the beach Where the oceans climb the mountains of our feet Where the teaming stream sings the song of leisure and the sound of the sea collides with the walls of our ecstasy Sunset beautifies the face of the waters We don’t need the cinemas Where our eyes are glued to TV screens And our hands converse with popcorns Where we witness comedy and tragedy Mingle like kids on playground We don’t need concerts Where endless strings and bass drums distort the melodies the lips of our gazing eyes sing to each other Where the noise from the cheering crowd deform the shape of our beautifully sketched hearts We don’t need the eateries and fast food joints Where our magnetic windpipes inhale the fragrance of delicious meals And our pocket discord with price tags of their services NO, we don’t need them Cos right now All we…
AN ODE TO THE AFRICAN GIRL | OFEM UBI
You were rich like crude oil An innumerable number of breathing glittering gold Your beauty was a silent sermon echoing through vast lands and kingdoms beyond You were a handful of dancing diamonds And those with sunlike skins always wished they possessed a quarter of your endowment You were born to bear the weight of your men like pregnancies You had eyes that sung the songs of salvation And your earlobes were bearers to the testimony that black was beautiful Your footsteps were nothing but good tidings to those who were lucky enough to hear or receive them And your rose pedal lips made the slave masters seek for refuge in the shelter of thy bossoms Your hips were the palace of pleasure perfectly placed by the power of HE who formed you Though you were given birth to under harsh conditions you glowed like the morning sun on Christmas…
THE EYE OF PERSPECTIVES BY OFEM UBI
From the eyes of a singer The world is music Carefully arranged in choruses and stanzas Made possible with strings and keys, beats and drums And without them, life is baseless And as each chord progresses As the sound graduates to the moments of unknown ecstasy Their lyrics are the message from their hearts to the world They make life bearable even through the recessions And their voices are nothing but the taste of freedom They see humans as instruments for melodies And every day they derive satisfaction off their high notes They see every event as hit tracks They make the souls of the dead wish for breath
The Whore House by Ofem Ubi
THE WHOREHOUSE She dances in the shadows As darkness is a word her syllabus are all way too familiar with She’s unstable like the climate And her forecast is nothing but thunder storms and little degrees of sunshine She hides behind the tower of her smile like Babel Her words are night time whispers hoping to be heard in daylight She tries trimming the cocktail time that tells the tales of her misfortune And so humans often misconstrue the pathways that led to her deadened destination She’s a piece of short sleeved happiness And she stares at the ceiling ceaselessly hoping to count her blessings but all she sees is curses painted in pictures flipping through the gallery of her mind As she begins to ask those rhetorical questions Is HE alive? Does HE see me shed my innocence like second skin and all he does is sit back upstairs…
WHAT IS WRONG WITH BEING BLACK? OFEM UBI
She handed me the book And its title became my muse As I stare at the cover page hoping to find answers to the question that marks an x on my chest What is wrong with being black? Why is my skin the color of crime? And why am I used as a case study for judgment Am I an outlaw? Or was I made for another planet Why do I feel like I was created to serve those with white flesh? And are the four walls of college an evil forest I dare not venture into? Or am I too premature to deal with its aftermath What is wrong with being black? Why do they terminate the exploits of my forefathers like miscarriages? Why have they possessed my thoughts with the spirit of the inferiority complex? For they have broken the bridge where humanity meets like a confluence point…
BEHIND THE COLLAR BY OFEM UBI
Behind the collar lies blood, dust, marrows and veins Lies mistakes swept beneath the carpet of our Lord’s mercy and grace Behind the collar lies sacrifice, selflessness and the urge to make the world a palace for HIS presence Behind the collar lies tears of regret and past actions that could be reversed if only time had hands Behind the collar lies bended knees, prayer points stacked on a to-do list like books on a library shelf Lies false accusations, painted lies that seem like honest truth, blackmails and attacks physical and spiritual Behind the collar lies the hot seat seeking for perfection which cannot be given Lies Google eyes searching for flaws to capitalize on Behind the collar lies days of contemplations about quitting, lies the hunger for care and affection Lies patience, immediate remorse’s like King David Behind the collar lies contempt, swallowed insults regardless the weight Behind…
LETTER TO DEATH BY OFEM UBI
You come guarded like an arms man Paying deaf ears to the reasons made by your victims You take who you delight in And it’s sad you’re never satisfied even when you get your fill You’re a glutton for corpses, both great and small You invade homes without prior invitation And though you see the unwanted signs on door posts you yet make your way in Sometimes through backdoors and windows of sickness, accidents and other loopholes too numerous to mention You listen to no bargains and pleas For your lustful eyes are fixed on your preys like a trophy You remove the lamp stands of those we wish you never did And it’s funny how you rejoice in our pain For if life came in pairs we certainly would drop our yet used lifelines for you but We watch as you take our loved ones up away in the…
Tales Of A Mad Black Girl – Kammie Nsa
Down in illusions, Living in depression. Faked emotions. Miserable Situations. She’s losing her mind. Drowning in the lies she tells, She lost her home, living on the cold hard streets, She has no claim to her name. Her deep buried secrets threaten to expose, To tell of a life She once lived. In her madness, She’s found a home. Letting her insanity clothe her, a wrap against the cold.. She once had love so good, A place so warm, A home so secure. But her sanity she lost to it. She once had family so tight, Friends so right, And a place to call hers. But now, She’s got no claim to her name. So She rolls around on the streets, Yelling and Telling to who may listen, Saying truths and giving out secrets, They stole her sanity, Left her in a place of False happiness, But of course, no-one…
BRING BACK THE JUVENILE BY OFEM UBI
I miss the days when I was like the boy in the picture I miss the days where I didn’t have to pay for my delinquencies because my cradle fingers were ignorant to the consequences of what they were committing I long for those days I recklessly ran beneath the rain like Adam before the apple Taking no cognizance of my being I miss freedom I miss internal liberty Where my mind was as pure as the sunny sky And I didn’t have to turn my eyes to stare twice at her backside because I never really knew what a backside meant I miss sleepy nights Where I didn’t have to stay awake thinking of the future because I was getting close to my grave with the silent alarm of sunrise and set I miss the children Sunday school Where we were given snacks and told beautiful bible stories that…
FREE BY NTEN MPAMA
Nten is a teenage girl who loves putting her thoughts to paper. Writing is to her what food is to the body. She is a ferocious reader and an avid lover of poetry. She also loves to bake and eat what she bakes. Her faith is probably the most important part of her life. She lives in Calabar with her family. I’m hurt in places you’ll never see Broken in ways you’ll never understand So, I’m sorry but, I’m not sorry ‘Not sorry for standing up ‘Not sorry for speaking I’m not sorry I’m not the ‘ideal woman’.. The one who caters to your every whim I’m too broken for that The flames of life have burnt me too many times But each time, I arose stronger Just like the Phoenix, I’ve arisen from my ashes Stronger and yet more beautiful So, I’m sorry, those chains don’t hold me Those…
FEEL LIKE HE DID BY OFEM UBI
I am tired of the green grains of cereal you offer me in take away packs I’m fed up with the CL sugary liquids you give me No offense but I need more than that I’m tired of chasing you in highways being offered nothing but chicken change that holds no trust of guarantee what my next second might be I’m a child with no choice so I do as told I’m tired of holding your loins and hands because mom said I must bring back something tangible else I’m as useless as a dead finger battery I’ve become nothing but a silent noise A product of a broken home, a one night stand, deadly war, violence and molestation some call me refugee I’m a candle in the wind And my light is slowly dimming My wax is almost burnt away I’m a typical definition of “Anywhere belle face ”…
THE VOICE OF ADAM BY OFEM UBI
You were a subtraction of my sum The genesis of disobedience A formula that diluted my established equations I was content with the authority he delivered to me like a Christmas passel With wisdom vast enough to identify every other lesser creature by name My nights and mornings were peacefully orchestrated by the songs of chipping birds I was president of Eden The masses had a fair share of their dully deserved national cakes I could relate with them like we were made of same liquid clay You were made from me, a descendant of my Father’s creation I knew not the definition of shame so my private skin was left open to the full glare of my subjects I was king until you showed up like cancer, eating up my essence to the core Liquidating the assets of my existence You made me grow bankrupt of ideas to run…