Poems by Nancy Ndeke

Poems by Nancy Ndeke



That life is a race, there’s no doubt about it,
Sperms on a breast stroke dash begins the journey, long or short,
Carriers waiting with enough or barely scraping by,
Career mad crash pitting papers and patronage,
Subabia telling affluence against effluence ,
Push and shove, bypass by all means
Between A and B, between 1 and 2,
Seven billion rushing to where?
Laughable is the senselessness of this chase,
Sad is the fact that we know the end and act ignorant,
Tragedy is the scheme’s involved in the race of assumed wellness,
And evil is the mind of the man who parks at various roundabouts of life,
Blocking others over spaces he occupies so temporarily,
If only we learnt from the seasons of flowers and bees,
We would respect spaces for what they are.
Spaces for all in this journey.




Behold the day of herds, headed by a headless train,
Hurtling down the steep slope of slippery disjointed rusty path,
A complexity simplified by opiate opinions,
Scorched Earth policy on dissenting voices and those with concious,
Laughter is no longer funny or appealing,
Sighs are deep in prayer over a brats shrieking disturbances,
Perturbed are men who remember history,
Of knives long and short and a bull blinded by his darkness,
When a father and a role model, dines with the pigs and the devil,
The poets sit to write verses with jerky thoughts,
A section goes into catatonic chanting of holy scriptures,
Enemies from without clap thunderously will a malicious Glee
In the backyard, shame bathes the hearts of the land with fear in their furrowed faces,
Once upon a Time all roads led to Rome,
Now, an occasional pilgrimage still pays homage,
Because, LIGHT cannot be denied whatever efforts are packed,
And a dirty arm pit cannot be wished away by an exotic perfume,
Its stench goes afloat to taint the follower purging truth with harsh hands,
And an era is dancing to it’s own show,
Drunkenly. Darken-ly.
As every tyrant and despot on earth takes a sip of bloody acts,
For the shelter where immigrant birds sought refugee,
Is a barren desert of ghost bastards songs driving truth out with a witches broom,
But God is never man, and will never be,
The spirits of lesser masses are still bowed in fervent prayers,
And tomorrow, lady liberty may shine upon her children once more,
For now, poetry is a vagabond whose eyes see and smell the pollution
Of ” SCAR-NDALS” that are baptising stigmatism into rights,
Because they can as far as knee jerk verbalization against dark remains a murmur.



All, in our short comings and big goings,
Stand at the last station, wavering dizzy,
Having closed the postal service
And closed shop on friend street,
We moan the loss of what we threw out,
Kindly spirit that spoke health,
Of mind and heart in the union of family,
Bludgeoning the kinship of man with poisoned tongues,
Deafened against the pain of life,
Barracks full of mute burglar proof individualism,
With this breath rusted with selfish heritage,
I write this letter that mimics a swan song,
Four winds, please reconsider the beefy blows that haul life against stones,
Giving forests and bushes, please forgive our mockery of your kindness,
Beasts of burden and those wild, please denounce your curse against our evil marks on your life’s,
And you, mother Earth, for our rough rape of your noble self,
Feeding you your own children before their time,
Forgive these little men of even less faith that condemn the boat they sail in,
And you mighty home of mystery,sky above, treat us as the prodigal sons for we are,
This letter, is sent on a silent voice too overwhelmed for speech,
Written on bloody inky and posted on knees,
Its an intervention and an intercession on all who this life abused.
Shine your love and let the lessons touch the child,
Perhaps tomorrow, that child may turn better than the parent,
For ignorance is closely pushing life over the cliff.

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