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BETRAYED
Once
bound by blood, a trust did thrive,
In
darkness, trust was torn apart, a friend deceived.
Robbers’
greed, a friendship marred,
Betrayal’s
sting, forever scarred.
CI_Mayende
Uganda
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WHY
I CAME
I came
here to float on the plains where anchors are not seen
Here
within ear shots of loud whispers and singed egos
I came
here to land punches where bruises count as prep
I came
here for the envy of friends
Who are
reluctant to learn speaking in tongues, otherwise defined as french
I came
here to ignore your stares
To fight
fears,
Back to
sources, where pure springs won’t spring from
Sublime
less on cold truths and gaping faults
I came
here to open vaults, where treasures spread beyond exclusive blood cults
I came
here to show up
So that
caretakers will own up
I came
here to spread the message of fighting clans
Offsprings
off the mark in mass exodus to foreign lands
We will
be third abroad and second at home,
Since
number one seems an exclusive preserve of foreigners
I came
here to gloat about what was achieved and what is glaringly possible
A work
that was left undone, no matter the hours devoted
We could
not have our way, no matter how many of us voted
I came
here to let the brothers know
Cool is
the gang until we reveal the curtain’s soul
A towel
should not drip before it cleans
We cannot
say the soil is soiled, if the land is green
I came to
here to nurture,
To start
the departures from a vulture’s culture
Which
rises with the need
To see a
sea of bodies of bended knees
I don’t
want to be friends with towers that won’t bend
I won’t
be keen to be kin with them, if our values do not blend
If honor
is not met with true colors
Where to
our shock and horror
The hands
which you labored to pick up
Stands up
erect, to kick off
The game
of slangs
Where
baring fangs
Volunteered
to carry the weight of fanning flames of hate,
In stark
reverse of what and how you should be repaid…
Akeem
Adetayo Oyalowo
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BROTHERS:
They were not the brothers
in the game of
thrones,
the sons of fortune,
though they were sons of
fortune;
not brothers in a river
runs through it,
a classic which I have not
quite seen
the point of, much like
Finnegan's wake
or Ullysses where only the
last page makes
any sense to me.
Not brothers like Sonny,
Fredo and Michael
of the Corleone's nor Tom
and Sid of the Sawyers.
They somewhat resonated
with the Biblical Kane and Abel, reprised in Archer's
Kane and Abel.
The grapes of wrath;
the Lion, the Witch and the
Wardrobe,
the Sound and Fury- a
Shakespearean trope exploited by Faulkner,
on to Biff and
Happy in Death of a Salesman-
Millers magnum opus after
the ostensibly shotgun marriage to Marilyn Monroe- Monroe not Manson!
There is no
missing out on
the Brothers Karamazov,
Dostoyevsky's breakout,
though I prefer Crime and
Punishment.
Neither my crime nor
my punishment,
but Dostoyevsky's book
which thankfully
was not as prolix as Tolstoy's
war and peace
which should have been
either War or Peace,
but not both together.
All that said Brothers must
live together
with wisdom or perish
separately as fools.
On that basis only is
survival possible!
Brothers as accountants for
one another,
checking pulses and judging
emotions-
fiduciary, physician,
psychiatrist!
Shaking hands to show
broken barriers,
openness and vulnerability
Giving hugs-
bear hugs and not,
clasped hands between
chests-hugs.
Brother to brother
standing shoulder
to shoulder!
ANDREW
WHYTE
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MAKING MY BED
In making my bed
I’ll want to tuck in the sheets
But I’m too jaded to be so perfect all the time
As a participant in the assembly of citizens
I observe as sojourners like me trudge on
Seeking
The elixir of life
An illusion
Or does it only seem so because our blindfolds
are on
And we can’t see tomorrow?
Vanity calls out to me and it holds no joy
I am not moved by the pleasures of this world
And yet the pleasures are pleasing
Please lift this burden of goodness that I wear
like a cloak
It is heavy and my path is filled with thorns
My brothers in arms understand
We walk a bloody road
And our destination, known but unknown
My songs are hallelujah
And Hosanna
While I’ll praise Him with the whole of my being
The imperfection of my essence never fails to
ask questions
Those which my spirit answer with confidence
Alas the spirit will always be willing
And the flesh weak
If temptations do not take me now
Then maybe I will have a step in paradise
I’ll make my bed
I’ll make my bed
In Ecclesiastes
Kemibon
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TWO
SIDES OF A COIN.
Like
bread and butter,
We
mingle and haller;
Life
is for the living,
Together
we hammer!
I
sneeze, you stutter,
Together
we hunger
For
better or worse,
We
journey on higher.
Tall,
short, small, large,
Respect
is rife,
In
life as we strive
To
grow in hype or strife.
We
part to reassemble,
We
laugh to rekindle,
The
brotherly love we resemble,
Two
sides of a coin; hommies! brothers!
Akata
Lucy
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AN
INSEPARABLE BOND
(BROTHERS)
I
have dwelt on dreams about one that exists.
Friendships,
so strong, now play a gentle twist.
In
diversity, we see the true creation of a bond.
Formed
of a mindset as if forged from beyond.
The
alignment of souls transformed in a trial.
In
unison with a vision of a votarist‘s lifestyle
Spirits
bottled buoyantly, bringing benediction.
Igniting
inspirations of individual imaginations.
Our
convictions consolidated so conveniently.
Creating
a companionship of a steady identity.
Fuelling
foundations for future fraternisation.
Understandings
unearth an unbeatable union.
Within,
we accept each others imperfections.
As
opponents constrained to different nations.
A
story composed with no thoughts of an end.
The
best of all brothers are mostly best friends.
Richard
Oyibo
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MY
BROTHERS
To
those who know what the ocean said
To
those who whisper hope
To
the window of widowers
To
those who listen to the rains
Glean
wisdom from the tales of the wind
You
are my brothers
To
those who cried in borrowed pains and cry borrowed tears
You
are my brothers
To
those who speak the tongues of the soul
And
cajole lost destinies into the right path
Write
on the mind the guide to the streams of happiness
To
them and these alone are my brothers
To
those whose anger is short like a short breath
like
the one you take when your betrothed walks up the Isle
Short
like a punch, Short like a short temper
You
are my brothers
Chisom
