I make thoughts bleed
An emotion while minds can speak
For a bless-ed man’s eyes can see
And his soul can breathe

Bless-ed is a man who can hear
And utilize words
Ngob’unendlebe nj’unetyala out there
Are people who are still deaf
And they can’t even hear a single word

Bless-ed is a man
Who can travel distant lands
You shall thank God, for you still can walk but not on wheelchairs
Because the paralyzed feels marginalized yet on the basements

You are able to write and provoke the sleeping minds
Well success to poets is not money but to open eyes
Of the blind
And see light through a small crack of the stone in these days and times
Poetry is an ancestry which sends messages to the most high
It was conceived during the ancient times
In the dawn of creation it has descended from the divine

So bless-ed are those who can Mother Nature when seasons seem to fall apart
Well, things fall apart
Death of Father Chinua Achebe
Left us breathing no longer at ease
As the graves turn upside down because of my people’s cry
Shouting why
Did all our honorable fathers die?

But then again
God had bless-ed a man
With an indelible pen – to write an in depth thought of Down to earth
As a poet travels far away distant lands
His heartbeat warms the path to convey an ancient wisdom
As the knowledge flows down from a calabash of word storm

That is a passion of poets when life consumes the light
And mountains seem to collide with the sky
Forming an indelible horizon that mothers the future of my tomorrow
Sunset leaves darkness in front of my eyes shouting out sorrow