Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

MY UTMOST AIM

.

Is the city above the firmament

Far from the wickedness of gravity

Where the death has no gut to live

There I pray my soul to be

.

The space above the cloud

Where the lions inherit their den

And the doves claim their nest

There I pray my sole to trend

.

The diner above the sky

Where the sun serves the meals

And the moon washes the plates

There I want my whole to be

.

The mansion above the earth

Where all the university degrees

Will stand vain before the three

There I want my home to be

.

 Lion, Lamb and Dove [Batik] -- Gwen Meharg

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

UNIVERSAL SICKNESS

.

Eve begot the whites and the blacks

In a hall whose roof

Was coated with a sky blue plate

Hanging at the peak of the earth

And the wall started to end at infinity.

.

We live in this hall

Where fruits swirl at the tips of the trees

Conjuring mockery at the lazy brats

Whose muscles smile at the sight of sleep,

Tongues wagging and splashing excuses

And eyes myopic to gold

Who lay waste at their finger tips

Waiting for the ones who can till.

.

The whites and the blacks

Shouldered the cross of equality

Walking the slippery slope of the universe

With hands clutching on arms, fighting poverty.

.

Poverty is a disease, not of the blacks alone

But a universal sickness,

For those that are weak in mind.

 Eve --  Peter and Sue Hill

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

PEACE
.
Rest not on this battle line
Drawn by the fathers
Who fathered our fathers,
Who spent their years on the fence
Sowing seeds of thorns in defence.
.
Cage not the atom of grief
Hatched by our fathers' mischief
When their days were spent in knickers
Their foresight peeping through their knee cap
Seeing nothing but nothing.
.
Let death swallow every bit of anger
Whose venom is incised with ink
On the plain sheet of our hearts
Breathing in and out bitterness
When our diaphragms flex their muscles.
.
Let's break out of the pod of vengeance
Let hell be the portions of our father's err
Let's wrap our hands round-about peace
For the sake of our children yet unborn.
Satan sement l'ivraie (Satan Sowing Tares) -- Félicien Rops

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

INEVITABLE
.
One day

I shall feed
The vain earth
With the last breath in my lung.
.
I shall pay my debt
To the dust of the earth
And to the sky far above.
I shall return mortal to mortality
And submit immortal before immortality.
.
My soul shall dine
With the owner of souls
And my flesh shall lay not waste
But feed the soil with humus
And bless the earth with fossil fuel.
.
The hearts of loved ones
Shall be clothed in black robes
Tears cascading uncontrollably.
So, shall my soul journey to eternity
.
Before this time
I shall live my life to fullest
Planting my foot print
On every land I shall trend.

 
.

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

I CAN BE THE PRESIDENT

Padlock the gate of your heart

Cleansing it within and without

If you still nurse the blind belief

That kings are birthed from golden wombs.

Forget the known and unknown golden eggs

Laid and hatched over the seas

Bread-and-buttered with the masses' spoon

Bearing in mind to come home someday

And continue where their fathers stopped.

Don't gaze at the valley in search of me

White paps are products of black pots

And the ghettos, home town of twinkling stars

Beautifying the sky when the sun goes to bed.

If the throne could be mounted

By a seed sowed and watered in the creek

Who roamed with feet kissing the thorns

The rain can rain again

I can be the President.

Padlocked Heart -- poetess16

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

MY LAST SPEECH

My son,
Draw nearer and hear with your ears
As a chick, I lived in crony with an eagle
Who furnished me with faded wings to fly.
I folded my wings and schooled in the den of lions
Therein my head was fashioned with a crown of bravity
I served in the hilly temple of an ant
Where beds are laid today for tomorrow's rest
My son,
Pick a leaf from my leaves,
Walk and work with your eyes plugged on the sky
Fetch wings and fly, fly high like an eagle into the sky
Beyond the reach of the cruel hands of doubting gravity
My son, fear not, but fear fear.
Good night.

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

THE UNRULY RULING

.

Your Majesty,

for the night and the day

rest at the tip of your finger;

and the world, your foot-stool,

does that make you god?

.

The dawn knew not of your wrath

but the god of the dusk sees the havoc you sowed

on our fore-father's land.

.

Your Majesty,

in your cruel cares

lies our father's wealth,

and our future

in thrall to your service.

.

The cloud may clothe

the stamps of your flagitious feet.

But time shall live

to tell the tale of doom

you incised on the foreskin of our land.

.

Your Majesty,

if the cascading tears of sky scrubbed the trails of  blood 

from the cloud

or the wind buried it under the heaps of sand,

.

the wall of our hearts are still littered

with the blood which she trails;

we shall show our seeds' seeds

and tell them the tale of your

unruly ruling.

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

FROM ME TO YOU

Tell Me,  
What will it cost me  
To drain the pool of tears  
That flows continually  
Through the tarred way  
Of thy glowing cheek.  
 
In my shoulder lives a strength  
whose might gulps tears  
I can bury thy fear  
With the raiments of trust  
And clothe thy bittered heart  
With sweety smiles.  
 
Tell Me,  
What it will cost me  
To erase thy lingering strings  
Of sorrow plastered in the  
fleshy wall of thy heart?  
 
Tell me,  
What will it cost me?  
I want to see you smile again  
Plsssssss...!

 
 
Tell me,  
What will it cost me  
To make you smile again...?  
Plsssss....Tell me!  
'Cos, Your Smile Is My Smile.

Stephen Okereke Micheal writes

 ~~AM JUST THIRTEEN~~

Lay no hands on my chrysalis,
Let it make itself a beautiful butterfly.
Tamper not with my foetus,
Let it make itself a mature maiden.
I'm an innocent little soul
Who has mounts of goals to climb,
Lots of dreams to chase
And a pile of stones to grind.
For now,
Feed me with bread and water,
Carve and shape me into a shape,
Give me books and give me pen
And not this muscular beast in man's clothing.
Mother,
Stoop into my age and see what I see
My thought is too weak for this maternal task
Unsheath your sword and fight my cost
Fight me out, lest I fall into this eternal pit.
Tell of this war to my father
Tell it to him in the moon
Blow it into the hole of his pinnacle
When his turbulent nerves are at rest.
How will you feel,
When the infertile soil of my womb
Is forced to swallow the seed of grain
Whose buttress root, creeps into my cervix
Causing me eternal scars?
Mother, join forces with father
Say NO to every Beast that seeks
My hands in marriage
Tell them am just thirteen.