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 Dec 2017 Ananye Krishna
rafsan
Walking by the seaside these past few days made me realised,
How your significant existence to me,
Was in parallel to the existence of the sea waves,
Crashing the beaches every day, every hour, every second.
Continuously, without a break in the betweenness of moments.

Watching the purplish sunsets,
Nonchalantly thinking how you were not here,
To watch their beauty with me.
Such a wasted, majestical moment,
Blew away in the dust of time.

If only you know how much I cared for you.
If only you know how much I longed for you.
If and only if you know how much you meant to me.
But it doesn’t matter, does it?
That everything should be left unsaid.
For I am sailing in the sea of missing-you-always.
Reverberating madness
Like an echo on repeat
The blames hurled around us
Yet it stops at your feet

Time to claim your faults
Let's reopen the scars
In search of your hidden vaults
There's one for every star

Every picture
Every song
The cruel thing about it
Is it took us this long

To find out we'd lose
Like a game of darts
And someday we'll choose
What happens to our hearts

Do they belong in the sky?
Or burn to the touch?
Either way I know I'll cry
Because I miss you so much

I miss the sounds
I Miss the sights
Like searching hounds
Miss searching nights

As I sit here all alone
With the confidence I lack
My heart turns to stone
wishing I had you back
No. You’re doing it all wrong. This is not how it’s done.

Why would you even… forget it, I’ll just have to show you.

Listen. When you look up into the sky, those aren’t clouds that you see. Who told you that? See that one, the one that’s a little puffy in the center and has a long end. Yes. That’s a whale. And the one next to it that looks like there’s a hole in the middle, that one is a doorway. That’s where lost things are sent to.

And no, those aren’t just shades. They are spy glasses. So when you wear them at night and look out the window, you get night vision. Go. Take a peek over into the neighbor’s yard. I’m sure I saw a gnome there just last night.

Now, what have I told you about our bed sheet? You need to stack some pillows underneath and get a torch. It’s our tent. And don’t peek outside. I think I just heard a bear scrunching around out there.

Oh and you must, I repeat you must get onto a higher surface when someone screams ‘the floor is lava’. I’m not kidding, lava is red hot, and it will burn you. Jump onto the very next thing you find that’s higher. I really don’t want to get burnt.

Also, I saw what you did last night. You didn’t wish on that shooting star. And I know you think you’re too old for this, and that wishing on a meteor, as you like to call it, is absurd, but I would like to remind you, mister, wishes do come true.

So don’t let the magic inside you die.
Wish on that star and let your imagination run wild.
You will only get to be this old, once in your life.
With Love, From the younger me, of the past.
 Dec 2017 Ananye Krishna
Jessica
Drowned in my own tears,
for a few days, I think.
All that time, I cried and cried,
scared I'd never blink.

You would think,
devoting a life, to someone so hideous inside
would get that devotion burned,
but  instead of burning my own life away,
I stood and decided to be a tornado today.

Fires can burn brightly, I know,
like the guy who broke me so,
but tornadoes can rip the land,
and still reach the star struck galaxy of black.

So go on then,
my lost, loved X,
I'll be higher,
not a star, but a brilliant, bright lightning bolt sent from a much greater fire, that has more passion then the world,
could ever begin to acquire.
Episode 2 :)
The land is soaked with blood
The sand is soaked with tears
Oh
How many barrels of blood must be spilled
to know that so many souls are gone?
How many basins of tears does it take
to have more than enough tears?

I am the voice of the little child
crying in the wilderness
I want to caress the flowers that spring
out of the ground of my homeland
I want to watch the ripples when rain falls
I want to play with my mates on the sand
along Chu Ngoke street
I want to sit at home and watch my parents
returning from a bountiful yam harvest
I want to stand at the playground and watch the
traditional wrestling
I want to hear the sounds of Egelege and Egoni
talking drums reminding me of yesterday
and a great future ahead
I want to chase away goats from eating the
maize in my mother's garden
I want to open my mother's ***
and pick a meat out of the soup
I want to see my homeland
Sweet little home of ours
Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode

I am the voice of a man
Whose hope lies in shackles
Whose homeland lies in broken images
A town deserted and forgotten
I am tired of begging for crumbs
When my barn is filled with yam
Mudskippers can still be found in our swamps
Please take me back to Alode
I don't want to die in another man's land
I want to die in Alode, somewhere in Eleme
I want to be buried near the grave of my father
and see my ancestors usher
me home with a shining crown
Take me back home
Take me back home

Take me back to Alode
Let me see beautiful women that
toss about the streets
Let me admire their buttocks
Let me stare at their *******,
those two round objects protruding out
of their clothes, ******* that
could make me feel like a child again
Let me kiss Nyime Owa Eleme, that beautiful
lady of my dream
Let me lay her down on my bedside and
make life worthwhile
I want to go back home and see
the sunshine with it's illuminous rays
and the tender droplets of the rain
Oh Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode

Take me back to Alode
Let me touch your borders
From Alesa to Ogale
From Echieta to Onne and
From Ebubu to the Onu Nmu where they say
the hands cannot reach
I want to touch the land of Alode
I want to touch the Eleme soil
I want to touch the soft green grasses of home

Written by
Jonah Okpabi
 Dec 2017 Ananye Krishna
CK Baker
trip up the island to see all the folk
monopoly, pong => pig 'n a poke
crystalline glass with dark bitter ale
Santa is looking a little bit pale

cherry red cheeks from a chilled chardonnay
one sailing wait for the talk of the day
drum sticks and dressing are the pick of the bird
chestnuts and brandy for gravy being stirred

brussels and taters are pulled from the bake
pears in the salad bring memories of Jake
sparks from the fire with rich amber glow
grey hair and wrinkles will come...don't you know?

gingerbread man with a white icing smile
candy cane schnapps (with its seasonal style!)
pine cones and tinsel that cover the tree
carols are humming from churches and streets

cold winter nights are the best of the year
chocolate and eggnog await with good cheer
a heavy thick fog approaches the sound
the comforts of Christmas, with joy all around!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
alone
just me
in skin in bone
a collection of neurons
spinning protons
a dance of
small components
one in the spinning
universe
a plastic plasma thing
able to comprehend
I think
the thrill
of this given ability
to touch
another
living
human
being
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