the casket was open for the duration
of the service
a black hole beckoning, a step through the door
the great unknown
a muffled cough, a sigh, unease hung in the
air, a cloying fog
i sat near the back, observant of the dry eyes
the looks of disgust
the gathering - most here out of a sense of requirement
than true feeling
the few who knew, eclipsed by the underwhelming
apathy
even less approached the pristine coffin for
a final goodbye
those with a thirst for the morbid (likely)
heartfelt (doubtful)
"daddy always said - be committed in what
you do"
words taken to heart - evident in the cracked void
left by the .44 exit
disinterested in the false emotions of the living
i leave - unnoticed
a ghost at my own funeral

Reincarnation

We all die
And that’s a must
Eventually we turn to atomic dust
The atoms have been
And always will be
From before we stepped out of
The primeval sea

They cannot die
Or multiply
They just are
And that’s no lie
So when people say
We have not lived before
Just turn the key
And point to the door

As we are all made
From stuff of the past
And scientists pin their claim
To that mast
So reincarnation
It is a fact
And in this life
We have to act

So sceptics you can argue all night
But of the above there is no fight
The soul and the spirit on the other hand
May be discovered if it is planned
Like the higg’s boson particle
Which is hypothetical
You have the right
To think
Soul is theoretical

Your love is black ice
Unctuous, greedy, slippery, treacherous
Seductive, alluring
The duplicitous song of the siren.

You are as the ancient oak
Whose once vital branches have withered
Into gnarled, beckoning husks
Ever reaching, never grasping.

And still I hunger.
To my shame I yearn.
I eat your dirt with the impetuousness of the dying.
And with trembling hands wipe away the maggots.

More the fool am I
For allowing the shadows to lengthen
Awaiting the day your siren song
Delivers its unspoken promise.

Ever listening for the soughing wind
To blow through your wizened leaves
To shimmy up your sturdy trunk
And carry you back to me.

But your branches are black with decay. Desiccated from neglect.
And my ears have forgotten how to hear your voice.
Accompanied only by the echoes of a dream
That has long since faded.

When I was a child, I thought,
Casually, that solitude
Never needed to be sought.
Something everybody had,
Like nakedness, it lay at hand,
Not specially right or specially wrong,
A plentiful and obvious thing
Not at all hard to understand.

Then, after twenty, it became
At once more difficult to get
And more desired - though all the same
More undesirable; for what
You are alone has, to achieve
The rank of fact, to be expressed
In terms of others, or it's just
A compensating make-believe.

Much better stay in company!
To love you must have someone else,
Giving requires a legatee,
Good neighbours need whole parishfuls
Of folk to do it on - in short,
Our virtues are all social; if,
Deprived of solitude, you chafe,
It's clear you're not the virtuous sort.

Viciously, then, I lock my door.
The gas-fire breathes. The wind outside
Ushers in evening rain. Once more
Uncontradicting solitude
Supports me on its giant palm;
And like a sea-anemone
Or simple snail, there cautiously
Unfolds, emerges, what I am.

This cell...
Hard and cold
I am hidden in a well
Dark, deep, and damp
Where is the hope that one must seek
Where is the happiness and love
Is there a pure white cooing dove
Or do all of those things leek away
Have the walls always been bleak and gray
Has the sun ever shown at the high time of day
For once I fell all alone

The ice-cold water has an echoing sound
Is it me or is it strangely quiet
Here I sit lost and scared
I am impaired for the sights I have seen
I know in my heart that I didn't do it
But I am here waiting for death
I sit and watch my days waste away
They sit there and wait for my life to pass by
What would happen if there was justice
But then again, what is justice
For once I feel all alone
Taken and without home...

I remember the history well:
The soldiers and politicians emerged
With briefcases and guns
And celebrations on city nights.

They scoured the mess
Reviewed our history
Saw the executions at dawn
Then signed with secret policemen

And decided something
Had to be done.

They scoured the mess
Resurrected old blue-prints
Of vicious times
Tracked the shapes of sinking cities

And learned at last
That nothing can be avoided
And so avoided everything.
I remember the history well.

                                                                 2
We emerged from our ******* mounds
Discovered a view of the sky
As the air danced in heat.

Through the view of the city
In flames, we rewound times
Of executions at beaches.
Salt streamed down our brows.

Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections
Monolithic accidents on hungry roads
The infinite web of ethnic politics
Power-dreams of fevered winds.

The nation was a map stitched
From the grabbing of future flesh
And became a rush through
Historical slime

                                                                 3
We emerged on edge
Of time future
With bright fumes
From burning towers.

The fumes lit political rallies.
We started a war
Ended it
And dreamed about our chance.

Fat fish eat little fish
Big ones arrange executions
And armed robberies.
Our ******* shapes us all.

I remember the history well.
The tiger’s snarl is bought
In currencies of silence.
Eggs grow large:

A monstrous face is hatched.
On the edge of time future
I am a boy
With running sores

Of remember history
Watching the stitches widen
Waiting for the volcano’s laughter
In the fevered winds

Hearing the gnash
Of those who will join us
At the mighty gateways
With new blue-prints

With dew as seal
And fire as constant
And a trail through time past
To us

Who remember the history well.
We weave words on red
And sing on the edge of blue.
And with our nerves primed

We shall spin silk from *******
And frame time with our resolve.
__
Source:
http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml

Black skirts and black blouses,
Black slacks and black jackets.
One hundred black bruised hearts.

Black faces and phrases;
“I’m sorry for your loss”s and “If I can do anything…”s.
I’m burning up and down,
Dying to run from this place like a tiger escaping his stripes.

Anger spills over,
Punches are thrown like whipped cream pies into a clowns face,
Fists fly, crows on great gusts of pain,
Noses bleed and suddenly

                      I am home.

Sliding on the ***** of death
up to see her,
knowing she would be ashamedly proud.
Watching for effervescent soda bubbles,
thinking this a terrible,
terrible April fool’s trick
only to be greeted by her ashen smile
inside a tiny                  
              wooden
                    box.

Ancient are the eyes,
Ancient the tongue,
Ancient the battles
Bring the world undone.

There’s war, in our blood,
There’s blood, on our hands;
Blood in the rivers,
Blood on the land.

There's just one thing
Worth fighting for,
In the bloodied world
And the future gore;

A man and woman
Remake a world divine;
For around their loving
All futures twine.