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The Arusi of thunder,
And lightning.
Amadioha,
Husband of Ala.
Ofufe,
The everlasting deity.

The divine one
Amadioha,
The free will of the people.
The punisher of evil doers

Okuku surrender at your might
Ala submits at your coming
Anyawu speaks of your thunder
Ikenga Alusi references your presence

Amadioha,
The supreme being
God of justice,
Who dares to stand,
The face of thy effrontery?

God of divinity
Diety of all deities
Amadioha,
Thou one and only supreme being.

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
A eulogy to Amadioha god of thunder and lightning.
Okuku,
Thou great one.
The spirit being,
That seeth all things.
Eyes of the gods
Amadioha's mouthpiece
The divination of,
Amadioha's creation.
Why yea?
Why yea soil thy hands?
The holy ground,
Yet a rotten ground.
The mouth speaketh
Yet masking the truth.

Okuku,
Amadioha's devotee
Amadioha's confirmed
The teller of Amadioha's message,
Yet breathing destruction.
Why yea?
Why yea soil thy hands?
The people,
They see things,
Yet afraid to tell it.
Thou keeper of the scared Oracle
Why soil thy soul?
Lies and treachery
Thy newest *****.

Okuku,
You departed the way of the gods
You stand in the concubine of wickedness
Nevertheless,
Okuku,
A mighty man of the gods,
Thou falleth,
Yet a strong man.

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
I am Amadioha the earth goddess  of Igbos,Ngai wa mugo wa gatheru
who created the nine daughters of mumbi ,and Gikuyu a man,
I am Wele of Dini ya Musambwa,creator of Elijah Masinde
I am  Katonda the creator of Kintu and Namiremeb hills at Makerere
I am eshu the god  of the  Ijimere and Achebe and Soyinka,
behold today  I stand in Egypt,where the sun comes from
where I similarly  stood billion and billion of years ago,
to create all the stars the moon and the universe
not even known to the son of man until today,
this is where i created my first born of  humanity;
dear Africa the generations of Negroes,
the beacon of my eye, i enjoy a look at you  minus blinkers,
i stand here a fresh to correct my creation mistakes
i formerly made, when creating my dearest son in Africa;
Kenneth Binyavanga wa wainaina, who hails at Nakuru hills,
he is the sweetest song to my heart, classical music of my ears
i contrite much , as i were not to create you a blended blood
from an  Omuganda  girl and  an Omugikuyu  boy,
i  was to create you a pure Muganda, like Okot P' Bitek,
or a pure Kenyan , like Francis Davis Imbuga,
i were to control your academic fortune , that you  don't start,
your maiden education  Lena Moi primary school,
an epiphany of a divorced woman,spelling curse of wifelessness,
on those that pass through the very  school , i was wrong.
had i known i could have not  sent Cleophas to work
in your fathers home , for him  to sleep in the horse shed,
cursed is the ******* memory of what he did in that quarter
as you preened  and eavesdropped outside like a hen
listening to the eagle's contralto,
why did i sent Wambui to be your nurse maid ,only to preach
the gospel according to the power of peasant ****** to you,
she tangled her buttocks before your **** eyes,senting
your young heart to sensuous extremities, Wambui ,a she devil,
Wow! Kalenjins are bad neighbour, they are dark and ugly
slow in the brain and sadistically malicious in the heart,
i  know not why i made them to abode with you within the
great valley of kenya, they throng schools and they cannot learn,
but i have now held them captive, i have made them your footstool
for ever and ever my dear son ,as you hold the scepter of power,
i goofed beyond  remedy by all ethereal to send you to Njoro boys school,
for you to meet Sigalla, that extra-masculine Sigalla , the ******* hunter,
i gave you wrong sisters, they made you put on your mothers dress
and her long hair,then you posed to the female public as an Americanness
your romantic number was fwive fwive fwive fwive , fwive at New-york,
i wonder why i did not give you enough power of languages
so that you generate a numberless fantabulousies and Goalies and so forth,
only to borrow from a young woman;Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
the  yellow sun's slapslap  slapslap slapslap slapslap slapslap   slapslapp!
Mangu Boys School to you was a blessing , had it not my fault,
of giving you a mutton headed faculty full of annentcy,
that went for the persiflagery and aesthetic phantasmagoria,
in the art and theatre prose and poetry; the Bigger Thomas Lawyer,
your only  misplaced  mentor  that gave birth to what i love in you ;
hence i am writting about this place now,this place kenya,
folly of folly is when i goofed to take a natural writter like you,
to commerce class in the land of apartheid, Nadine Gordimer's  front
that sired Brenda Fasie a top Lesbian, the song bird of my times
as you all know we the gods also jealously love,
she only charmed you with her naked ****
swinging like a pendulum on the  musical stage,
after her communique of being a top lesbian,she call it Africa,
o! no,  Africa never came from Lesbians, it comes from simple nature;
mother and father, in natural and collective  heterosexuality,
You only saw and revved in dope culture in the cubbyhole of Victory,
and hoped clubs from Dazzle to the rest , in hunt of  your boyhood,
sadly to be befallen by dark clouds  in victim-hood of optical nutrition,
abiding among the  tall, beautiful, smoking bunch of Lesbians.
My son, from  today and henceforth,  i the Africanus,
the god of African fertility,poetry and art,
humbly chose to recreate you the king of kings and queens,
of African story telling  at global status, to tell all African songs,
beyond sham fallacy that gay and Lesbian literature
are the begotten  apex of modern and Global literature
these are only white lies featuring a death bound imperialism.
Hey over there you gods of the earth and other planets
Your creature like I, a human mold suffices knowledge not,
As you mightly rove all over the sphere and share domains amongtst thyself
To reign over the whitenes, Jewry, negritude, sinotude plus  yakeetude of mankind,
Enjoying  your ethereally eyeview onto the earth at your creations,
Permit me to shoot up  a guestion to you over there in your deitly realm
Be you  jehova of the jews or amadioha of the igbos,god of the english or anything dogmatic,
What happened to your clay mud and tools pertinent in trade of human ****** creation,
So that you of late on umpteenth scale  have created men who are women
And beautiful women who are aggressive mefolk and then ubuguitous earthwise ?
What has gone heywire with your human architecture ,when *** organs and feelings
Are center stage beckoning for their traditional orientation ?
Is homoeroticality your new creation technology  ?
Or it is man recreating himself ?
Don’t you have enough clay ?
If material matters do you honourable deities
Come to Africa , chief Mugabe bob will guide you to copper-belts
Of chimurenga fields were clay is beyond any control,
In such quests you will go back to goldenly old
Human ****** creation topography
That will glorify your deitiness
In the old manner of hetereoeroticality.
After Amadioha went into sweet nightmares,
he made us to breath through the chest of the sea. from the celestial bodies of the shrine,
We shone our forefather's smile with a mirage,
a little littered mirage spelling words in ellipsis.
these were the rose crumbs tailored in the sand castle of our glassful laughter, we're the Palmful morning in the eyes of our home in the abyss.

when a child cries, he forgets that the route to
his home is written on his body as a tattoo.
when a girl thinks of gathering firewood in the heart of the forest, she thinks of her thigh &
the bushes surrounding it, nature made it so.
We do not think of our skin as a poetic of agony,
We do not think of our eyes as poetry letters
but we draw lines and currents of imaginations describing how rituals made men insane.

We carried out those prilgrim for the boys,
our forebearers made us cracked our head up,
they carved pumpkins traces for this generation; for this humble journey mixed with fire & water.
Our souls, our dreams were the Shakespearean places you never had the chance to see physical.
they are the rituals of nature, a side Sithoulte,
a wonder land created like a paradise you don't stay often but in your dreams & imageries.

We are birthed here as debris & plump scars,
a tortured lips holding the past & the present.
We are the foundation of everything evil spirits,
We were born in the ritual of a grievous war.
to say a human is a benchmark of his own,
to say a man is a mango dropping without a choice of where and how to touch the sand,
to say a man is everything fretwork of agony;
to say a men are slaughtered memories...
but to this edges of rites & repeated steps,
We'll remain the gospel from every mouth.

Our ancestral hands shall still set a table,
to tell the girlchild how to sit in a public hall
to hand over the shrine to the  boychild
to tell man that he owns a woman as head.
to keep birthing good and ugly children.
our hope will always depict heavens glory
and, our darkest fears as the skin of hell.
And it must be passed down to the next
genes to tell the next & sand keep multiplying.
This is the ritual of mankind to remain alive.


©John Chizoba Vincent
FromAPenRefusingFrustrations.
Love's divine Oct 2014
I am Biafra!
Though the world denies this truth
let them their eyes pluck out
or betterstill brave the raging sea
for where i come from
am undeniably proud of
ask the rising sun if you must
or betterstill ask Amadioha
for i am Biafra now
in another life i will be
four decades ago you had us slaughtered
and you caged us in our own land
selling our oils and gold
and you killed us while America watched, and Britain fed you arms
now you pray for peace and prosperity
forgetting in a hurry your darkness and curses
Away with you now
For i am Biafra and we never forget
See now how slowly the sun rises
or are you blind now?
Scoop the blood you spilled
be intoxicated by it
run as far as you can
for even the worst draws near
you will never see peace
until your every coin you owe you pay
Peace Biafra
(after Amadioha went to a wet sleep)
.
.
For the Men who went during praises
Let your tears be of cheerful dreams
You are not forgotten in abyss
The glory of death shall be re-shadowed when the storm is over

This is the gullible of the vision-less attribute
For those women who cried Ozubulu! Ozubulu!! Ozubulu!!! before death
I have seen your agony wailing in the street
if this is the sand that unite us
Amadioha was insane when it all happened in his sleep....
Our shadows shall always cry
Our nose shall always smell your aroma in the darkness.
this is the cruelty of men of our land
those who didn't **** their mother's breast nine months
those whose father's names are cursed
those whose names bring shame
those whose mother's names are of sin.
we cry also, we weep all alone
go in peace women! go in peace men!
Ozubulu children,  Ozubulu wind & sun
are your traveling map hanging on the
fragments of the dusty lonely cloud!
For this journey is of shame and sorrow...
Our ashes & palmfrond shall remain with us
and your names shall not be forgotten.
.
.

©John Chizoba Vincent
FromARefusing_frustration.
Babatunde Raimi Nov 2019
If you want the sauce
It's home sweet home
I shall carry the wine
From the iconic palm tree
But you must see my people
The Umu Nwayis and the Adas
"Igba nkwu abia go"

You want total package
Pay the price, for the prize
First, come, declare manifesto
Not as politicians of our time
For Amadioha judges instantly
Then, Nnayi shall be officially informed

"Bia kuaka n'uzo"
With an original Ibo kola
That which does not understand "oyibo"
And when I say "Yes"
Your kolanut will be accepted
Giving way for "Iju ajuju"

Come with dry gin and gifts
More kolanuts and drinks
The Umunna awaits my King
The one that tickles my fantasy
Pay the "Ugwo ishi Nwanyi"
I can't wait to bear your children

Now that we are here
"Igba nkwu Nwanyi"
Let the town crier sound the gong
Come wine, dine and merry
When the wine is in inside "Iko"
Even if all lights in the world goes numb
Your sweet fragrance will lead me to you

I see the glow in your eyes
Still as enchanting as our first meet
Nothing else mattered
As I danced towards My "Obim"
They called and beckoned
But my heart belongs to you

Drink my love, drink
Drink from my breast of life
For therein you shall drink
For the rest of your life
Till death do us path
And with this drink
I thee wed, for better for best!

— The End —