i created another Jaja yesterday!
a braver Jaja unlike that timid feeble boy
Chimamanda gave life in Purple hibiscus.
i gave him a gun and a mightier heart.
i carved a pumpkin route for him to follow
i made him to have the mind of his own
then, I sent him to his father just like every
mother sends their sons to their father.
he gunned him down in his assaulted plights
he returned angrily to hunt me for this freedom
my experiments to pull him down failed
and I remembered mother also created boys
she abandoned to find freedom who later
came back to ****** her in their plights
Boys come in this formless shape creating imageries larger than them which returns to
Squeeze more juice out from their dark sides.


©John Chizoba Vincent
FromAPenRefusingFrustration.

-
  this is what talking to a mongolian
in amsterdam does to you.

there is such a "thing"
   (or rather, a point of interest)
in the form
   of covert pronoun usage;
namely?
       hiding pluralism...
   the ever present suspicious
   they indicator...
                         because is there
a we with an i?
               ****** diacritical
marks in the form i & j...
          suddenly missing in
the form of I & J...
          quotas, quacks,
                 cats and kettles...
should have joined the
circus at this point
                   type of argument...
became an irish gypsy,
     took a **** into a frying pan
and waited for the rainbow
of fumes...
             **** me...
                   when making oaths
from the tongue utilised by
F,
       became "too" easy,
and no ***** could spell out
  the affix -uck...
              ish that licken yuck?
  yack?!
         ****... you spotted a moose?!
- and that one time i
****** my underwear
          in a sand-pit
   because i couldn't stop charging
myself playing,
  crumbs of a bread on a table
that translated into a sand-castle...
either a labyrinth or countless
rivers...
                how i love my memory
bank, hardly the to do list...
          or it's called playing
tag with Alzheimer...
            otherwise in the st. augustine
primary: bulldog.
            but memory is
just the most perfect form of cinema,
the strobe light disco effect
as if joking on the topic of:
                                     an epileptic.
                  celebrity culture,
or what became the squandering
of history... if there had been
any study concerning...
          the drunkard
muslim in crusades
          by terry jones * alan ereira...
oh you know, some
   ibn        or some      al-
or that weird case of
    japanese green horseradish,
i.e. wasabi...
      came along the purple
          tatty...
                  hands up!
        i'm taken, and no amount
of a diet based on octopii
or ***** will make sense to me...
       give me a cow and i might
just milk it...
             but i'll sooner
perform a kosher "prayer" with it...
   kauczuk?
       that funny synthetic piece
of orb that bounces really high
when asked to imitate meteor...
     jaja? hardly the spanish laugh...
just means eggs...
     one instance of an egg?
    jajo...
               because we know
the spanish took to gee-soos
      as: hey zeus...
                           and then you write
down jesus,
    and later sculpt icons in wood.
             not that i hate
the french,
      but this is the part where
i let you make up your mind
on the orthodoxy of applying
    the grave accent...
or as the french do:
        the word ends on the pivot
of having applied this indicator
of: agreed upon form of a word...
regarding the title:
                             kāùczúk
oh, you still have to utter the remaining
                             -czúk
cha, cha cha cha...
              or ch' (with a stutter)
                           ook...
                 but hey...
    even i know there was no
  charles brando band...
                  ****, manroe is pilled-up
  and trying to fake death
                        by falling asleep.

tren razuzdan razuzda sve zauzdano
što se uz vrisak pun sujete
rastajaše od uzdi svojih
poput deteta
kome se seče pupčana vrpca
ili radnika koji viče
burazeru proburazi mi aortu
a konj je plemenita životinja
i pauk koji zalud plete mreže
jer je konj brat vetrov
i pauk uzvikuje
dan i noć tvoje ime lucifere
zar si nem
dok čovek prži jaja
a ona mu se obraća
kao inferiornom biću
želi deset na oko
eh
zalud grca čovek
u procepu znatiželja
rađaće nam telad  telad
takve više nema
miriše joj butine
da to je miris ruže
konji ržu pauci cvile
vlažnih ruku odlaze u rasejanje
vetar drami
put jednostavan
i **** ga pozdravlja
jer njegov brat je konj
duplim dekom mu vida rane
jadan li je put
uzvikuje
kupite moje uši u prodavnici mešovite robe
lomne su iluzije
dok čovek kiti jelek
trepavicama njenim
uzeglom štrudlom napoio je konja
loman i radošću prevejan  mudrac
cmizdreći dao je ime njenoj duši
protkanoj hemoroidima
koji krvare
gore je smeštena smeša
blažen je onaj koji puva
kad procuri šulj
teško ju je doseći
opet se u snu  javlja
on
kibicerski smeće
i maže na krišku hleba
mrtvog mačora
teško ju je doseći kaže
sa uma najvažniju stvar
stvar je ona koja mu dolazi glave

to je vrdalama
ona zauzdava tren

Faces and places, a fast past.
Picking among fickle options,
Fried in the prying cycle.

One, ja!
Two, jajaja!
Three, jajaja!

A pattern that has fatten,
A frustration in an endless production.
**** then pack.
**** then pack.
**** then pack.

Ja!
Jaja!
Jajaja!

Wut und Schmerz
In meinem Herz
Ein Pfeil
Bedrängt
Verdrängt
Verengt
Verrenkt
Verschenkt
Die 17 Jahre
Oder mehr?
Und neugeboren
Werde ich
Womöglich.
Vertrauen schöpfen,
Wenn im Inneren das Fegefeuer
Lodert.

Verhindern
Will ICH jede Lösung.
Verlieren
Will ICH nicht.
Vielleicht vergesse ICH
mal wieder
Den Schmerz der Wahrheit
Schlicht.

ICH übertreib' es nicht!
Die sind alle Verräter-Menschen,
Die Welt ist furchtbar, dreckig, schlimm.
ICH will nur raus von hier,
ICH weiß nur nicht wohin.
Die Scham?
Jaja, hab von gehört.
Aber du bist ein Idiot.
Versuchst mich zu verstehen...
ICH WILL doch untergehen.
Genie? Ja, dafür halt' ICH MICH,
Deshalb verfass' ich das Gedicht.
Verschiedenartig, dennoch gleich,
Spiele euch hiermit einen Streich.
Nur um MICH selbst zu überlisten.
ICH führe immer eine Liste,
Über Gewinne und Verluste...
Wer auf Platz eins ist, wo ICH steh',
Muss schaun' dass ICH net untergeh'.

ICH weiß, in mir steckt so viel mehr.
Oder auch nichts? Oder auch nichts.
ICH bin enttäuscht.
Verletzt.
Verlegen.
ICH bin allein, muss überlegen.
ICH muss mal sehen, was ich mach'.
Vielleicht spiele ich lieber Schach?
Nein, Schach ist nur für alte Leute!
Ich such' mir lieber was von heute.
Was heißt, ehrlich sein, nochmal?
Ich weiß, es ist vielleicht ne Qual.
Für DICH.
Ja, da hab ICH wohl Recht. Das wollte ICH.
Das ist doch echt? Ist's echt genug?
Oder braucht's mehr?
Es braucht nur weniger, I guess.

I just need to say YES.
I just need to let go.
I just need to be free.
To let myself be me.

Today it won’t rain it won’t bathe the soil
Our grasses won’t merry corn shall fall
Papa soon thank is guest on constraint eve
Over bloating his ego like Jaja not Opobo
Father wants to marry his 20th wife.

Well wishers, who will come? Our pastor
Soon sermon those one wife stories
My father hisses with gallon of palm wine
Pastor preaches thou shall not drink.
Fermented liquid that’s alcohol not him.

Two commandments my father said three
“Thou shall do as he wishes” father said
I will couple more matrimonies on earth
Then thunder struck the rain fell.

O da, bila sam bas debelo dete u jednom periodu detinjstva. Moji bas nisu bili takticni, umesto prvo da me posalju u zagorje a posle na more da se malo istrosim plivanjem, oni bi me prvo vodili na more a onda davali babi.A tamo u zagorju u jednom selu blizu varazdinskih toplica sve domace. Vrhnje sa sirom, mlad kackavalj baba pravila od komsijskog kravljeg mleka koje sam inace pila svakog dana i to tek pomuzenog sa temperaturom krave. Domaca jaja, domaci hleb, slaninice, kobasice, razne pite i slatke i slane pecene u sporetu na drva. Iz baste paradajza, krastavca i paprika. A davali su mi i da popijem po malo vina domaceg koje je babin brat pravio i koje je stajalo u nekoliko bacvi u podrumu kuce, a koje su me cesto slali onako da povucem na crevo pa pretocim u flasu. Verujem da je mami bio sok kada bi me videla nakon mesec dana u promenjenom obliku, zapravo bila je besna na svekrvu poprilicno. Kod kuce bih uglavnom doruckovala ili vecerala sama za stolom, i to je bila prilika za mastu, a mastala sam da imam sestru ili brata. Napravila bih sendvic za sebe a i sendvic za imaginarno drustvo, naravno oba sendvica bi zavrsila u meni. S kim ti sada jedes? Rekli mi a da nisam ni pitala nego doslo samo po sebi na temu BG Kaze: "imamo dve sestre koje stalno dolaze ali ne pricaju".

*mh sep 2017