Chukuemeka Akpe

They adorn these walls as ugly ornaments:
Invisible trails of vermin
Painted with the bile of bitterness
for all to see.
...

A patchwork of decorated combatant lords
Stitched together with diverse fragile cords
Into a tapestry of nations hung on frail words.
...

A decade of decadent silence
Voided by errant memories:
A prayer on wheels to muzzle fear,
The demon pounding at life’s chamber.
...

A precious Gift
Wrought by the tenderest of Hands:
Eyes that behold love in every face,
Too pure and ignorant of evil.
...

Judas staked his life for pittance in avarice
Joisted on a beam for derision and dishonor
Juxtaposed with thieves to corrupt his piety
Javelin taunts ribbed him of water and blood
...

The one at war with self
Seeks the peace with world;
The heart shrivelled with fear
Puffs out a hot air of bravery;
...

Thistle strewn path
cobbled at the dawn of time
for immortal man to tread, his spoor
mortal man to follow.
...

A dome of dark, gloomy clouds caps this landscape.
But, not for rain.
A cacophony of thunderous applause shakes the land.
But, not for rain.
...

Infringing thoughts thunder in this cave of lonesomeness
Incarcerating with deafening peals of anguish and sorrow.
Inharmonious rhythms of yesterday’s esteemed dance steps
Invoke now wriggling fervours to blind and muted séances.
...

Years have rolled by
gathering sweet memories
forging strong bonds of sisterhood.
...

Ancient customs girded the Harbinger of Death
In loin cloth, hairy barrel chest and a husky voice.
Taboo is deaf to the hip-swinging trump of death,
Scowling and seething at all infringing trespassers.
...

I.

The dressage of all these mares and stallions
Never fails to hold the world in rapt attention
...

A pantheon of moulded images
Figurines of gold with clay feet
Pottered in a frenzy of adulation
Hailed in theatres of absurdities.
...

Accolades of Acolytes dance across banners to gongs,

drums and cheers.
...

Freedom fighting days are decades over
Yet the spectre of oppression looms still:
Quondam hero, the villain now.
The people are clubbed for their choices
...

The epileptic flashes, billows of raucous metals
Molten power-houses, tendrils of smoke in a glass…
A stale age trapped in a whirling orb of freshness,
Its time slothfully ticking behind the other times.
...

Long before the curtains parted
machinations and assassinations
heralded the much vaunted drama.
...

I.

Dawn to Dusk
they chase after buses
...

Out of sight
from prying dignitaries
this sprawling estate of corrugated
huts and floating bamboo mansions
epitomizes our miniaturized Soul.
...

N inety flagship years now unfurled
mapped with the isolations of grief
wrinkled joy of a colourful dream.
...