Poems by Nancy Ndeke

Poems by Nancy Ndeke



of vows and bows,
“tolded” in broken syntax,
and twisted rhetoric,
far as near, fear in courage,
moronic melody of exes and asses,
platters and planters flirting on rafters,
spoons and spades, each shoveling lunches and hunches in bunches,
forlon foretold as prophecies by deprived sages of yore,
alas! who can know the pain of a boil but who burns with it’s puss,
we are bits of the broken mending the whole,
scattered debris of gathered thoughts,
awaking the roots that roam the dusty rooms of our imagination,
telling the “tolded” tales of tails chasing the dogs,
in this womb that never tires of birth, even at the battle fields of splintered chases,
we are but smote as remote as a muse in solitude,
Star dust dancing on the heavenly ceiling,
where hope graces the dreams of generations,
of an unrepentant sufferer hustling for free breath,
as sold by those who thrive on bludgeoned inheritance.



On that ancient spice route,
where commodities ruled,
was it ever about location,
or the language of your father?
Cloves and dates having a date,
raisins and tobacco and a pound of coffee,
weights and scales and fair exchange,
a few robbers, a few highway men,
just like markets and pockets of crime,
till we learnt,
to draw a new map,
one that puts the beast at the center,
of necessity not the best,
we learnt too,
to invoke a fearsome power,
of a God of favor,
if only we obey,
was the deity or his messenger,
that loved the land and the lass,
was it the angels or their namesis,
that taxed the land and it’s inhabitants?
love lost its home,
rogue built a shed,
where law wrote it’s lines,
of do’s and don’ts,
except the don’ts,
were meant for you,
life still rolls on,
with thieves as chiefs,
while the owners,
are enmass owned,
centuries later,
we carry the attitude,
of defeat at birth.
having surrendered,
the future into the past,
inheritors of disinherited,
faithless faithful,
dulled focus on a bygone era,
where Heaven shifted into an error,
of men’s clever tricks onto fellow men.
a case of sibbling rivalry gone awry.



Everywhere evidence,
This thing that simmers in the dark for nine months,
Comes out yelling,
Goes back silent with eyes closed,
In between, two legs booted and strapped,
Two eyes aided with scholarly glasses,
Designer wear to smooth out misdemeanors,
Excellent speech full of rhetoric,
Policy makers and cheecky laws,
Yet, ” tribal codes” come with a manual,
Needs first, wants later,
Which in your lofty appraisal,
Must reverse to the archives,
Leaving a trail of riotus streaming tears,
Upon the path we call life’s journey,
The kingdom of earth is home to dust,
There is another where all codes made,
It’s why pity is pitched on your lapel,
As your false teeth grin for the cameras,
Which see beyond the flapping arms,
Into the soul of the traitor of tribal codes,
Which loosely means ALL MEN,
Except for those too dark to distinguish between indigo and idiot.
And the unpatriotic parade of indecency.

© Nancy Ndeke
@ June 2020

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