"oji" poems
From ditches, from rubble, from dungeons
From false memory’s catacombs
From barely legible signs of death
When a startled heart from the grave reforms
You will select a single date
With the wind, which approached underground
So you could plunge the freedom as a burning needle
To the glass square of the sky
“January 13th” by Leonardas Gutauskas (in english)
Iš griovių iš griuvėsių iš požemių
Iš klaidžios atminties katakombų
Iš žūties vos įskaitomų požymių
Kai širdis prisikėlus nustemba
Tu atrinksi vienintelę datą
Su tuo vėju kurs artinos pažeme
Kad į skliauto stiklinį kvadratą
Smeigtum laisvę lyg degančią adatą.
„Sausio 13-oji“, Leonardas Gutauskas (in lithuanian, the original language)
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 4:26 AM UTC
~_And everyday it was difficult, walking around and knowing that people saw me one way, knowing that they were wrong, so completely wrong, that the real me was invisible to them. It didn't even exist to them.
So: If nobody sees you, are you still there?_
—Akwaeke Emezi, _The Death of Vivek Oji_
Visible
written June 5th, 2021
I slowly approach
the idea of
being visible
after a lifetime of
being afraid
of being seen.
Being invisible
is a kind of protection.
If I can be invisible
disappear even to myself
maybe the pain
won't exist.
I can testify
to the pain still felt
even when
holding perfectly still
invisible to the world.
Self is something
we are alone with
by our selves
but also
something we are
in relation
with others.
I reach out with this poem
to declare my self
to you.
To claim my space
in this world.
To begin to reveal
me.
Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 9:24 AM UTC
Mr Oji looks disturbed yet at the wheel,
Now that the month is dying for real, He manoeuvres around with bills,
Bold as he demands the arrears of the deal
Emmanuel come see him,
Come along with the entire team,
You will be sceptic about the scheme,
Scheme to make our eyes deem,
See Oji cleans the compound,
So satirical how he hoovers around,
Don't you think he Is broke and no more pound,
That he badly misses the coins sound?
I just eavesdropped,
Heard him tell Kevo that he once knocked,
His tenant to death as others watched,
His tact to fast track payments is surely crooked.
No alcohol in his breath for sure,
The atmosphere is so pure,
His usually fierce tone seems to have got a cure,
And this are signs that his coins are now fewer.
We better call at his door ,
All of us at once especially at four,
We precipitate our challenges to this bro,
No pay unless he improves we vow.
Let's remind this drunkard,
That His days are numbered,
That the narrative have been pondered,
And the hare this time is not to be spared.
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 2:20 PM UTC
I never walk alone
Son of my father
Blood of my ancestors
Careful as cat
Silent as snake
Brave as honey badger
Strong as polar bear
Blood of my ancestors
Son of my father
I never walk alone
(c) Nwafor Oji Awala
Ogale
2025
May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 10:58 AM UTC