Felix Chibuisi P. | tales of a broken city

tales of a broken city

those who carouse from insults of broken hymns
should not convert the gods, priests and paupers
with their morsels of infested meat
and tales of bitter water;

even though the gods slept while dreaming,
their eyelids were spy cameras
recording every market day
wombed before our existence.

how do incinerated bodies smile before death
or how do the harmattan tales
weave africa on a white snow?

rocks are the beauty of abuja
but tales are the heartbeat of every broken city;
if religion is a deep wound in every broken city
why do the gods wear benevolent smiles
when our noses nose miseries
and our limbs swim in ruins?

niger and benue may meet
but the beautiful marriage never extends
beyond waters.

rocks are the beauty of abuja
but the gods feel their bodies
were drilled away from them
to beautify abuja.

in every city is a tale,
and every tale is gold.

…..

dry weeds hanging

flowers through the window
are love letters escaping from dried seeds
of many fallen fruits of emotion
facing resuscitation in a contagious hospital—

hostile and full of putrid breath,
naked wickedness soaked in excuses
and without coyness, blows off
every gathered ocean in beautiful eyes.

how does a mottled cloud
define cleanliness without lies?
nor a polygamous heart
stay virgin enough like a white curtain?

some lights on late afternoons
are sycophants soliciting for our misery
to sleep on an immaculate bed
without hope to die before dawn.

…..

when all mistakes matter

our roads are patched
with recycled ancestral mistakes;
we would watch tractors run on our future
and still leave us in miseries,
worse than yesterdays.

a boy who remembers home
should steal every crack
on this depressing nostalgia
and fix every reeking path
the government left on the street.

and to the girl
whose big bum bum matters most;
tomorrow will crucify your intelligence
if your arts of womanhood only create
aestheticism in bed.

to the greys
whose wisdom died in the 1990s,
allow yourself to live in guilt
or keep shut for your mistakes to be fixed.

…..

Poetry © Felix Chibuisi P.
Image: Dall-E