afrikan re-animation
poetry playbook By Christian Mowarin
8
The light. It’s coming to get you
The dark. It’s already inside.
I made note of her tension. That really puts me in detention Wasn't sure what it signifies Could i be the advantage later I want to circle around her With my cuff brushing against her time Against her motional pose Against the spirit of her resemblance Very material along the dip in her back. A moment in sleep, a slip in moment Christian Mowarin
The leaders travelled with the sun Pulling the moon to cover the night As the sun takes a seat The happiness knew no bound The land respects one another Call it the trajectory paradise of hope The spirits come out in the open To play with the new existence Christian Mowarin
an oxygen paperback July 2010
Cracks in the wall His everyday silence echoed In this night of cacophony The only real barricade In his way the shifting breeze A con answer to his desperation He pondered the non-demise Of a practical human saga Another season of closed doors For my mother, Rectorial nail in a handmade cofďŹ n. Darm the day life came A faint tremor shook him A slow combination of Nerves and stress and fear. Hadn't slept in these cold times Meals just a window instance Blue new cloak for the races Stamped in utter stupidity The trembling, unconventional A broken rehearsal, cursed The fear of evil justice at heart Footsteps, for the powerful Delilah enters the cinematography Someone had paused for a moment. The footfall grew nearer, and nearer The soft heels with a woman's grip Hip playing silly with the hop An arrogance dance of depth Pounding against a marble oor Now is the time, the race is now
clara
The east in your hair I am the east wind in your hair Your friend and a dependable frontier All Three little glint of sunlight That cuts you in midday twilight Sun-dancing with play gigolos Caught buying oranges in the village I am the quiet ďŹ ction that rages On the brink of a sudden blizzard When the lizards take a break Off the sunny concentrates Shaking duct dust volumetrics With grains far from the reigns And the rains drawing delusions I am the eastern harmattan Samaritan near the open drought Where the river runs and vaporizes Up and grows to become common With the ugbagwu town summon All the clan red head conicts The spirits reincarnates in them And the yam farm blossoms
Queen of the darmed Her fiery eyes stood laced Panning the ruins in the rummage Clawing sounds drowning the paves Measured by deadly discretions Unified by fiends of the firsts Filled with fillets of imaginative files Outlined by revolutionary carnage Her lengthy fang in manicured Artistry alliance with the ancestors A day made for her to explore A richness made of annihilation Between the battle of good And the striking evil to rule Sick of humans and humanity reasoning The rising energy inside paving way for the seven horns With the seven heirs of the dammed Thrown into the furnaces of throne Pouring vengeance like the wind Wailing in an eternal waiting For the aging bottomless pits To rise against the new borns Never been born together before Bright red torn the day apart With the rags lazily warped around Life creeping out slowly in secret From long ago in the dead huts Life grails trailing me on this time They called her the burning one
Cracks in the wall II The motion smiled at last Feeling of both regret and haste Taste of the new diminution Slave case of cats and dogs Sentenced in an agonist remedy Now encaged in unison Today's the day you reveal Your altimeter trust in death She's here and bows the hour How on earth she come made it? Shake it off man, shake it This callous entrapment That's of no comprehension Nor beautiful enigma with typos Encryption of the outer mind In total disarray of purpose The coarse handwriting Becomes really shaky Begone Dahilla, be gone Oh you pleasure of hazards Filmed as a taxi lanky story I won't go that far to please you My demise means nothing to you I despise you greatly, I do Step aside in nonchalance Let me live and leave this drama
Eye of the mind aka awakened in sleep split Bright and gleaming eyes reflect In the damp lamplight grey cover The mind sound asleep In sync with the new morning All its dark lashes and locks withdrawn Am already torn this time Like the devil making a coax bargain A fine sheen of perspiration secretly Creeping to gather along her hairline. An indolent posture maintained My back against the squabs, New thread of tension laced ahead Matching all the latticework in carriage. Vue gloves dangled from her fingers, The easers forgotten for a moment. I made note of her tension. That really puts me in detention Wasn’t sure of her attention Do not know what it signifies Could i be the advantage later I want to circle around her With my cuff brushing against her time Against her motional pose The spirit of her resemblance Very material along a dip in her back. A moment in sleep, a slip in moment
We are all natives The south gave birth to us In an origin of corrugated culture On a cold blooded market day Devoid of new day promises Primary ames diminished A summer full of bold existence To mere illuminative backwardness Poly Fragmentation of inheritance Made only for marked maggots Soul reminded of original nature Plenty souls of a skewed mash Tailored to fail even in reections As the days reverberates past The imprint of my grandfather Came back in a solitary dream Lurid daytime hallucinations The prophetic pains follows pulling Like a horse load genres of literature And his ancestors advancing Nothing of any amalgamation But the new energy allergy wind came Sweeping stories everywhere Feasting the leaves from the grass Homeless the grasshoppers sing In a bad spirited alchemy ow We are all natives in time Nothing can changed that now
Who are you looking at ? Who's eyes are you looking at, With and draining the pulse Of the serenity and Serengeti plains That the evil forests generate their iteration Where local rights turned wrong In the wars of mediaeval Africa Fought to the living death walls Where the mind ďŹ ght to the early Hours of an imaginative tone Barricaded by human deectors In a connotative story of grace The animated sun in its smashed rays Corrugated with the bumpy contours Of nativity colors and originality Whose blood are you feasting On At this daring day usurper Who's cataract of blood Are you dreaming and drinking Beckoning to the survivors To come take their delicious bite At the sweet spot of the afterlife And the daylight strings play with The strange spirits that come forth True to their beliefs and died for it For one day only the true righteous Will tell the supreme tale of utopia That's hanging above the hammock Waiting of the day to come
Am coming home Africa
I heard your voice in the heights Of the Kilimanjaro plains in plan Made to make Manchurian cigars I heard your words when the wind Ferried them all across the lines Of a tailor made Africa where The lions sleeps with its tamer Bare headed with twined beads Their young groan under the Ikale sofocative makeovers and Uwakanaba iguana fever
Africa my handmade Way back in the middle earth This wild story was born In a hand made of sketches The rivers runs through Spilling over as tributaries Forming A snake path of glory A beginning so open So bright for races to run The new plants sway away In head nods that touches one another Letting the water enjoy a stay Before a ground drink The leaders travelled with the sun Pulling the moon to cover the night As the sun takes a seat The happiness knew no bounds The land respects one another Call it the trajectory paradise of hope The spirits come out in the open To play with the new existence The momentum was good enough So is the nsala soup The epidemic stayed away The clouds performed water For the plant audience Man was far off But not so far off existence Man was lurking, now looking Then he came with hands And his friends, the devil’s hands And they played the Hands that made Africa
I don't want to wake up Don't wake me now That sleepland beckons Calling out my name in synonyms Silently picking my thoughts Placing them in a word rope Of life only genius share I keep seeing you Every now and then Get away from my dreams Don't let me scream at you Am going to the marketplace It's nkwo day you know The native men will be there They want to sell their food I really want to see them The ones with the white circle In the rim of their eyes I want to buy food for my miracles My imagination needs polish But I never tell anyone I know I still have the penny in my pocket The one for the witch ferry You think you can make me stay So you can break my metaphors But my minds made up Your hallucinations won't work Place them as postscript Literature If you like Leave me the way I am My creator shines Don't wake me Walk with me The path is nigh It's not so high either Am so eager To sleep
I love Afrika but it's killing me I love Afrika A unforgettable illusion But I could never forgive her For the memories it built The death it inicted on me A devil it gave me And the gift of hallucination It managed to scare me with I would never forget The ghost shadows it played And the life it never gave us I love Afrika It's my mothers grave land But the sickness it brings Makes me, my motion skewed The malaria it fathered And the swells of it chickenpox The rage of its sunburns It served on its own kind I love Afrika It's beautiful contour furrows And its wild cassava panorama But it's killing me every market day Its thoughts of killing it's own kind From the times of our ancestors To the new renaissance With its own roots and herbs An unforgiving spirit that sickens me
Woman of color The African Woman of color Beautiful as a night patch A daughter of the breeze, A new earthenware ďŹ red The corrugations still fresh Darling of the greens of akpanma The place where the bends of the river Flow the fastest and yet calm She's the woman of ebony The Zumba of the times Baked purely in lasting lap In the deep rooted clay pits And intrinsic waters of mbimiri Only ikamiri the great god Who carries the weight of the earth Like a large baby with brass eyes Can prepare in time for creation It's the African woman of color Beneath her bosom bare Live snakes amongst her hair Sprinkling beautiful radiance Every where she threads A golden smile for all seven clans A ash of glow with a lit When the morning dips deep The brilliance are all for love, She's the gladiator of dark beauty
NOTES
an oxygen paperback July 2010