Image by author

crush this sadness and it forms a cloud

will it rain?

acid formed spittle, god is disgusted by my bother

so they ask for my faith

and i ask for their forgiveness

it later rains arrows,

is this not abuse?

to accept bad as my fault

and good as heaven’s blessings

cover my face in shame

for my lack of belief

god has said nothing about my loss

yet i make excuses for them

why are they not ashamed of their silence?

--

--

Image by author

cheers to what you could be

pretty after a wild night

beautiful scenes in the morning

gardens in the places you lost hope and

your body hungover like flowers that grow out of wine bottles

so tonight, let’s drink to that

--

--

when it rains with the sun’s eyes fully (((open)))
mother says an elephant is in labour
i often think of the calves born in these moments
do they experience such miracles all their lives
lifetimes of the glorious ambience of water and light >>>
or was their origin and the bow of the rainbow
a picture of two truths in a frame
that [[[the world is beautiful and our existence could be ordinary]]]

--

--

Picture credit: Author

after the fall of adam
god hid paradise somewhere
between my temple, heart, wrists and ankles
a puzzle for a man that doesn’t know his reflection
or a way around his sadness

when i finally got in,
angels gave me a new body for the burnt one
and a gown of praise for my ashes
i chant holy all day like other faithfuls
to worship the one who gives and takes away
and hides our happiness
as a garden guarded by flaming swords

--

--

what it means to breathe
in a country that is an efficient assassin
is to rehearse my final moments

after every kiss
after every fire
after every thing that made me feel alive,
i call together all my life and tell them
how we could have been a glorious day if
we were born in the morning

for to live and love in my time as a nigerian
is a life that begins after the sun sets
and is over when the night falls

--

--

after brymo

Picture by Author

i don't know a thing about dancing
to move to a dream so beautifully
without making a scene
and all the eyes on this earth trying to figure
what i am doing with my life

yet the sea and its wavering ambitions
is called beautiful
the fall and rise of water
the come and go of hope
nobody scolds it for its indecision to stay
but we blame the moon for the tides

the sea is over a billion years older than me
and still doesn't have it together
i dey fall, i dey rise
abeg, give me time and grace

--

--

Joshua Omena

Joshua Omena

Poet. Communications Manager. Daydreamer. Night-crawler.