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ideas have consequences

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Monday, 25 May 2020 19:09

POEM: Really, Nigeria Is Independent?

 



POEM: Really, Nigeria Is Independent?
By Emeka Chiakwelu


Arbitrary winking as set free in 1960
Given a flag to hoist without metaphor
Given a national anthem to sing without clarity
Given a pledge of allegiance to recite without thought
Given a foreign language to speak, dream, cogitate
Hinged in freedom symbols devoid of significance
While fisted chains of bondage speaks volume, rattling
For the eye to see, ears to hear


Where is your identity?
Paraphernalia, accessories of country does not make a nation
Nation is organic with soul and blood
But are you capable of nuanced thoughts?
Too complicated for a simpleton to comprehend



What do you know about Independent?
What do you know about freedom?
Shallow in thought, dim in vision
For you do not know how to be free
You accepted the name they gave you
For they called you Nigeria
Have you ever ask yourself
What does Nigeria means and where did it come from?
Like an obedient servant you nodded



But who are you?
A sunset in the west
Or a rising star in the east
Morning dew in dry season
Or a shivering rain in wet season
Like a light you arose from a forest
But like a meandering wind you disappeared in the moistly sun



The given flag raps Green White Green
They said green is for agriculture
Yet not enough food to feed teeming population
Where abundance of fertile land begs for crops
Yet hunger reigns in the land
They said white stands for peace
Yet mesmerized by endless war
Where is the peace? Yes peace Vaporizing
They gave you arms to kill your brothers and sisters
Starving children to death with acrimony
Rejoicing on starvation policy as weapon of war
There is war in North
There is war in the south
There is no peace in the land
When will white become peaceful?


You are an African
You are the blackest of Black
Where is Black in your flag?
Where is Africa in your Flag?


You were enslaved
You were colonized
Where is your history on the flag?
Where is slavery in the flag?
Where is colonialism in the flag?


Where is your history?
It is not in your textbooks?
It is not in your constitution?
You have no history? You tell us
You do not teach your children history
Yes, your history?
Then who are you?
Then where did you come from?
Then where are you going?


You have a great history
You came from the historical Nok culture
You came from great Igbo- ukwu
You came from great Oyo
You came from great Benin kingdom



Speaking cold foreign tongue in the heart of tropics
What happen to your mouthful spicy languages?
They said your native language is primitive, outdated
That is not universal and intelligent
Like a drowsy elephant you accepted



Look at how you name your children
With a foreign name you labeled them
When you were sick? Where did you go? To a foreign land
Where did you children go to school? In a foreign land
Where did you go on vacation? Of course in a foreign land
Even your money currency is not good enough?
Currency printed in foreign land, rejected in the native land



They lie to you
But you chose to believe the lie
For you bury your head in sand
No, you are not free
No, you are not independent
The scalding bundle of wind
Sweltering heat of deception
Exposed in the nakedness of daylight
Dawn has manifested, darkness not ceased
Tell truth without mince
Bitter veracity, yet it impels reality
Yes, you are shackled, still a colony?

 

Copyrighted EChiakwelu

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Published in Emeka Chiakwelu
Sunday, 10 May 2020 22:44

Poem: We were all Jews

We were all Jews  By Emeka Chiakwelu


The surpassing mind of thought bowering our collective history
There goes again reminiscing on the yester years of anguish
We did not chose the history of oppression, it landed on our backs
But somehow, someway it became our history
A hell of years to recollect, remember, cogitate
Setting aside of blues dropped, situated in winter air
Drowned by darkness, fabricated by a treacherous mind




What a wicked mind?  Worse than a wicked mind wangling at night
A humiliation came from a diabolical mind, hatched in a stone bowl
While they sleep at morning, deadly night of destruction comes
Muted breath that hatred was a forerunner 
Pointing fingers, wagging at spotless dew
Why the hate? Why the hatred?
Eye popping like a burning fire
Accusing the innocence of gutless tact



Why did you hate?
Blaming the situation on being seasonal
Seasonality of hate in question
But hate in autumn
Hate in winter as the cold wind of night crisscrossed
The hate even persisted in spring when lovely crispy leaves beckon joy 
Even in the effervesce summer, hate never dries up
In the morning hate
In the Afternoon, hate comes again
So definitely at night hate stays 
Hate no more, cultural permeation 
It sounds a tedious pledge that never blossom
You generation of darts never ceases
History bears the devastating testament


The hate in Egypt where slave labor flourished
The stones gathered with withered hand, bleeding nails
Foot swollen with cover while trekking never stopped
Oh eyes that see the oppression, how do you sleep
Eyes could not close without evolving vision of humiliation
Oh little mind, while the perpetual contraction
Let rest in peace, never assented


In the Prussia oven were used… holocaust was hatched
Millions, more millions, many millions perished
Darkness prevailed in the landscape
While In London eviction, the London Bridge fell
Why the hatred….none dissevered mal treatment
Continuous staggering thought persisted
slippery path to be littered, the rapacious thought of dehumanization
We searching freedom in north, south, west and east
Let it be, for freedom belongs to free mind



Living amiss of freedom on the desert plain
Daughters of Jerusalem sing songs of freedom
How long can you live without freedom
Oh freedom rain from east\Oh freedom rain from West
Freedom where the keys to unlock liberty


At the glimpse of the opening door, here comes light
Light of freedom
Light of liberty
Yes, finally freedom came
In the soil of the ancient promise land freedom dwells
In the mirage of dusty wind freedom was lost
Devastating thought to recollect
Deep melancholy protruding endless thought



“Was Saul also among the prophets?”
Millions of Igbo perished in the rainforest
Fell in the battle, on the genocidal Biafra war
Blood soaked and poured on the hamlets soil
While children starved to death, 
As starvation became a weapon of war 
As the world kept quite like the days of Black hundred



For “the beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty fallen!
Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph.
Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty,.”


Yes he was a Jew
No she not a Jew
But so what, so what’s the difference?
Then who is a Jew?
We were all Jews.

Published in Emeka Chiakwelu

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