This Darkness


Darkness.
Constant darkness.
Yesterday, today, and without a doubt tomorrow.
I look out to my neighbour ,
He too has been engulfed by the darkness.
Grey shadows dance along on the street below,
Dreary souls returning from their slave shifts in the city, to this darkness.
This darkness, a cloak for wicked minds to stage their attacks,
At this evil hour, waiting in dark corners to strike on innocence.
This darkness has consumed us, our eyes become blinded, accustomed to this most usual of surroundings.
Our bodies, tired from countless restless nights.
As assured as the rising sun, this darkness will come,
After suffering the unrelenting heat of the midday sun,
The night, this darkness, offers no succour to our condition.
I used to have a torch to guide my steps, it reminded me to hope,
But batteries die, and hope fades,
Replaced by an undeniable anger, while this darkness reigns.
Huddled in groups we discuss this darkness.
Why do they not even try,
Their lives are filled with light, but it is as if they do not see,
They do not understand our plight, it is as if they are blinded by that same light.
Seeing only what they want to see,
Consumed by hidden agenda's and filling the pockets of their agbada's,
Surrounded by God fathers, false contractors and numerous benefactors.
This darkness, this disappointed look on our faces,
The power horse of our economy is lying in pieces,
A nation with no power has no business at the races.
I nod my head in silent remorse,
This darkness, this shame, this terrible frame, still remains the same,
No addition, only degradation, no development, just crooked involvement .
This darkness some how remains off the priority list, its solution covered by a mist.
Standing on my balcony, I hear the usual loud noise associated with the many generators.
Everyone for himself, what about those left on the shelf.
You and I pay for this darkness, but there is no customer support to deal with our unhappiness.
When will our people see this time of darkness as a life they once lived.
When will we have a generation of children, who do not have to dance in the brief moments when darkness finally turns to...
light.

Comments

Rayo said…
i especially love this lines;
"When will we have a generation of children, who do not have to dance in the brief moments when darkness finally turns to...
light.", "batteries die and hopes fade"
this is really good!
July 21, 2009 at 3:28 PM
rebel ryter said…
intoxicating words. power-filled words. compelling words.

i dunno what to say. u're deep man. too deep. and ur gift of rhyming is potent to the extent that even many hackneyed rhymes remain pure under ur spell!

good one there bro!


www.rebelryterwrites.blogspot.com
August 25, 2009 at 3:15 PM
Obinna Mgbeahurike said…
Chiedu, I must start by complimenting you on publishing your words. That is no mean feat. However, since you write poetry, you must be open to criticism and as a poet, I must say I was embarrassed reading your work. At a point I was wondering if you wrote them with crayons! No offense meant but you cannot write prose in verses and call it poetry. There was no imagery, nor was there bite in the words. I recommend you read works from people like Niyi Osundare, Christopher Okigbo and Ezra Pound. Then you can do a self-assssment of your own work against theirs. I must say unequivocally that I am ashamed to be called a poet if what you write is what people now read. In simple words, POETRY IS DEAD. You can however adapt your style of writing to love poems scribbled on sheets of paper and sent to girls you intend to woo. But please I beg you in the name of God, don't embarrass us poets by putting these things out for people to read. It murders the chance of people ever appreciating good poetry!
November 29, 2009 at 12:53 AM
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