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The answer is 42

November 24, 2015 2 comments

The answer is 42
But I don’t know what the question is
I have asked the the ones flirting with insanity
And the ones far from the border line crazy
I have asked the young and the old
And the one’s whose stories aren’t told

The answer is 42
But I have no idea what the question is…
I have searched the new york times
And the readers digest
I have asked politicians
And men and women of religion
I have asked clergymen and searched the prayer books
I have looked through the CIA files and the KGB files
I have asked the powerful and the powerless
But still I search…

The answer is 42
But I don’t know what the question is
I have a million keys
But can’t find doors
Leaders have hearts
But cant find love
I have so much stories
But no one to tell it to
I know what the answer is
But even my deep thought fails me
In finding the question.

The answer is 42
And I still don’t know what the question is
But I am aware it resides in the morning dew
And in the rays of the scorching sun
And in the silence of cold nights
And in the thoughts of my neighbours
And of my friends
And of my wife
And of my family
And in Nigeria
And in Gaza
And in Paris
And in Garissa
And in the xenophobic south
And in the racist north
And in the war torn west
And in the corrupt center
And in piracy infested east
And in the heart of the brick catcher
Who was ordered to throw the answer back at life
In the hope of it asking a question instead.

The answer is 42
But I don’t know what the question is
And except this poem is written in base 13
Then could my question be “what is 6 into 9?”
I mean 6 times, I was stabbed in the back
But 9 times I survived
I mean 6 times i called onto Allah
But 9 times he responded
I mean 6 times I was born
But I’m in my 9th life
I mean 6 times I failed
But 9 times she loved me more
I mean 6 times i died
But 9 times he gave me life…

The answer is 42
But I don’t know what the question is
And except this poem is written with tears
Then could the question be “Why our mothers die while giving life?”
Or why our girls are harvested before being ripe?

The answer is 42
But I don’t know what the question is
If this poem was written with half of my brain
Maybe the question is “What happened to all the empty spaces?”

The answer is 42
And I don’t know what the question is
Except this poem is written in the AUC?
Then the question is what is A and what is U and what is C?
Or Why are there 54 versions of normal
When all we seek is just one?
The answer is 42
But I still don’t know what the question is
And except this poem was written in a refugee camp?
Maybe the question could be “Why am I refugee?”
And why do I need to seek refuge?

The questions are infinite
The answers are not
The answer may be 42
But the questions that will lead me to the answer
I am yet to find
This poem will not end
Until I feed
At the restaurant
In the end of the universe.

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Categories: Poetry

What we seek

November 2, 2015 3 comments

We seek happiness
But sorrow seeks us too

We seek love
But sometimes, hatred gets the better of us

We seek truth
But lies won’t seize from the mouth of the trustworthy

We seek trust
BUt betrayal is somewhere in sight

We seek justice
But we are fed with only an abridged version of it

We seek death to the sick
But the healtheir ones die first

We seek power
Only to get drunk by it…
I mean, whatever happened to beer?

We seek good health
But we smoking it away…
One stick at a time…

We wish upon a star
Forgetting to pray to the one who created it

We took the long walk to freedom
And we ain’t free yet

We seek leaders
We got kings and emperors
I mean, we dont love China that much..do we?

We seek wealth in abundance
But how much of it do we really need?
When thousands are dying..
And millions living in greed.

Falsehood tastes better than truth
Hence our kids are obese and our parents too

We were given clouds with silver lining
Stil we seek the golden one…

We seek God
And he seeks us too.

We seek life.
Death seeks us too.

Categories: Poetry, Uncategorized

New Begining

October 31, 2014 Leave a comment

In the beginning was the word and the word was without a machete or sword/

But when we read still slices our hearts through our cords like a convict on his knees calling on his lord/

Whereas, happiness is not given as a constant in the mathematical equation of existence/

Whereas, tears is not inversely proportional to the square root of the ratio between happiness and sadness…/

Also given that, every YES does not necessarily define a new beginning of life and every NO received does not mark the end of time. . ./

There is a time flowers wither but then blossom again…

A time when barren earth is given life by the open heavens in form of rain/

A time of pain for a mother birthing a hero, a heroine, a star or a judge who would put mankind in happiness jail/

A time when hearts feel weak, thoughts go astray but soon the soul is met by the dusty boot bearded philosopher to put it in God’s way…/

Lets get it straight

I am no preacher, no sheikh or a saint

But have lived long enough to know that life is spent in different lanes/

Long enough to know even identical twins have unidentical desires

Long enough to know that as long as there is life, there is hope. . .

Ocean tides could be high but not higher than our belief that with time, it would be low

So are our fears, our heart breaks

Our emptiness and our voids

The pains we find and the joy we lost

Once again, in the beginning was the word

And in the end would be would be words

Every downfall is a chance to get up and stand up tall

There are no dead ends

Only new beginnings

Categories: Poetry

An ODE To The Stubborn – Dr Hakim Elwaer

September 5, 2014 1 comment

hakim

There comes a time when flowers lose petals
A time when the sun makes way for the moon to reign
A time when babies become like those who birth them
A time for welcome smiles and goodbye hugs

Dr Hakim

The time has for you for us to pour out our hearts to you..
And you will hear nothing but the truth and Allah is my witness
No matter how scary a dream is… A child is not scared to tell it..
So be rest assured the person reciting this poem does so without any atom of fear

Dr Hakim

You have been the stubborn one…
Stubborn in refusing to be compromised…
In your quest for change and in modern day Africa… That’s strange

Dr Hakim

You’ve been faithful loyal to that land you call mother
And she’ll be grateful to you

Dr Hakim

You’ve been a role model to me and to every young person listening
You’ve proven that age is something and it’s just numbers

Dr Hakim

The students of pan African University in Cameroon will not forget you
Your efforts and strides shall not be written in pages of books alone
But in the hearts of Konary
Of Ping
Of Zuma
Of Ikounga
Of Ezin
Of Njenga
Of Agosou
Of Mahama
Of every living being listening to my words
And of UNECA
Of GIZ
Of AfDB
Of SIDA
Of JICA

Dr Hakim

Kidist will miss you
Tsehay will miss you
Sammy will miss you

Dr Hakim

It’s sad to see you leave
But it was written long before we knew it

Dr Hakim

You were a friend… A brother…
We accept all your praises like a father expresses pride in his son
We accept your reprimands like a mother will deal with an erring child

Dr Hakim

We appreciate you
Rather than express sadness in your departure
We’ll dance to the songs our collective heart beats produce
We’ll celebrate you and your efforts..
Farewell our brother
Farewell our son
Farewell the stubborn one. . .

Categories: Poetry Tags:

The Challenge

August 23, 2014 Leave a comment

In as much as I detest Candy Crush requests I will accept. . .

But
You sending me a challenge of the ice bucket
Makes me wonder if you not suffering from
Fracture of the eye socket/
The truth is, from the on set,
I knew you would stray from the main goal
The moment i heard you talk trash on set/

Celeberties in Europe and America came together for a cause/
To raise funds and awareness about the ALS curse/
Which till date has generated attention from those who matter. .
and from the civil and privy purse/

Truth is, thanks to the Ice Bucket Challenge..
I am now more knowledgeable about the deadly ALS disease
Which halts the sufferers nerve cells..
And triggers a slow and unstoppable paralysis. . .
Its over 70 years since Lou Gehrig drew attention on our hearts
Not with a paint brush but with his words
And days have turned to nights. . nights have turned to days
And still we have no cure. .

Anyway, thanks to
Gates/ (Bill)
Son of a Bush, (George)
Jordan, (Micheal)
Dre (Dr)
Sheen (Charlie)
Mubarak (Obama)
Shaw (Tim)
Et al
for the awareness
Now I’m ignorant no more…

My darling African celeberities. . .
Ebola in Nigeria, Siere Leone, Guinea and Liberia
Malaria killing kids in the Congo/
Starvation in the horn of that land you call “Mother”
Drought and hunger in Somalia
Poaching and killing of your wild life in Kenya, Zimbabwe and South Africa

Dear African musicians, rappers, poets, artistes, politicians, actors and actresses. . .

Listen to this facts about Malaria. . .
627, 000 people die from malaria each year, mostly children younger than five years old/
There are an estimated 207 million cases of malaria each year/
Of the 109 countries affected by Malaria in the world, A whooping 45 are African countries
90% of all Malaria deaths occur in Sub Saharan Africa
There are an estimated 207 million cases of malaria each year/

If these facts do not challenge you,
Then do not call Africa mother. .
If these facts do not spur you to action
Cease calling Africa home. . .
If these facts do not challenge you. . .
Stop quoting the holy books. .
If these facts do not challenge you. .
Then pour that ice on your Afro or On your wigs
This is not a poem to make you double blink,
It’s to make you think.
I await your challenge.

Statistics Source:  http://www.netsforlifeafrica.org/malaria/malaria-statistics

Categories: Poetry

I’ve Been There…!

June 25, 2014 Leave a comment

I see you with hands in chin/

In thoughts deeper than wells of Beijing/

I see you constantly run your fingers through your hair,

like you now live in a world whose problems you no longer can bear/

I hear you deep sighing/

Shaking your head and clapping your hands. . .well I know what you’re implying/

That you’ve been to hell and back/

Or that you feel betrayed and no one’s got your back/

Listen, I’ve been there. . .

 

You broke?

No cash to get the good things of life like your folks?

And your life pattern is depicted by worrying strokes?

You struggle so hard and life still seems to you like a joke. . .

I know that feeling of lost hope bro…

You not alone in this cos I’ve been there

/

Degrees, certificates and recommendation letters in piles/

Yet you’ve combed the city like a bushy hair and still no job in sight/

This is life doing you bad in different styles/

It’s frustrating right?

I know that feeling and…

I’ve been there
/

Have you been cheated, lied to or heart broken?

Or your heart grilled well done in a Black and Decker oven?

And you curse destiny for not changing its course/

When it was just a few seconds away/

Or a few seconds left for your heart to pause/

You wished you never met right?

I know that feeling too…cos..

I just left there. . .

 

Have you sometimes questioned why it had to be you/

That these horrible things are happening to/

Or that the forces of nature have ganged up against you/

Which sometimes leads you to think God isn’t true/
But I’m here to give you tidings of hope/

That you should keep calm and let God probe/

And that reminds me of a passage and I quote/

“That no man have we placed a burden on, other than he can carry”

End quote/

 

So know/

That just as no leaf falls from a tree without knowledge from above/

So is God aware every time you are in a hole/

Hold on tight to his rope

And he will play his role/

No matter how long it takes

Or how much has passed you by/

Something or someone better is being prepared somewhere/

Patience costs nothing my friend

Let God be your strength

Cos, only in him do hearts find rest.

Categories: Poetry

Love Trapped in Hate

February 27, 2014 Leave a comment

Remember when our Relationship was like the game of Tennis/

When love meant nothing
When every hello or hi said was enough
When I never cared if you had a cold or cough
And when you were so comfortable calling the bluff

Remember the days you will pass me by like you never cared/
And I would bow down my head in fear rubbing my beard/
Praying upon the moon/
Wishing upon the stars/
That the lord will reveal to me the contents of your heart/

Remember the first time we stared at each other for two seconds/
And for a second/
My soul absconded from my flesh/
For the other second that felt like a year/
It was surreal and yet so real
Speechless we were but we communicated
The pupils in our eyes clicked, like a square peg in a square hole
The break beats of our hearts in sync…
At that point. . .
We were like a thief caught in the act with gun pointed to his forehead
We knew we had to give it up
I lacked words
You lacked expressions. . .
But I struggled with every muscle in hands, in my heart…
Every breadth in my being
To murmur the simplest and the most powerful words I could find
“Odeshalau Yene Konjo”
We knew We were in love.

Do I need to explain the pains I went through
Or the ones that you went through. . .
Seeing our worlds in ourselves like a see-through
But chose to wear dark ray-bans to shade it away. . .which wasnt cool

Do I need to tell the world how free we now feel
Knowing I’m the melody, and you are the beat that moves me
And every day I night I pray
That the fruit of your womb will be sweeter than oranges
I have packed all my belongings and deserted the state of shock/
The state of fear
To the state where you reside
And forever,
I’ll be by your side.

Again, before I close
I’ll love to propose/
A toast/
To my black goddess
My GI-Joe in times of emotional tsunamis
My blanket in times of cold
My friend
My sister
My everything. . .
From this day to the time when there will be no more days
From this night to the nights you will be guarded by black knights
The flame of our love will burn. . .
I’ll fuel the fire.

Odeshalau Yene Konjo – Means I love You in Ahmaric Language

Categories: Poetry