Poetry

Soloist for the State: Two Poems by Nnaemeka Oruh

Soloist for the State

The land is green,
It’s green for me.

Even in the marshes
We could hear her voice,
Knifing through
Our consciousness
Dragooning feelings of
Patriotism from
Those who have been
Purged clean of such feelings.

TY,
Soloist for the state,
I marvel!
I marvel at the prompts
To your sonorous melody
Portraiture of what is not.

I look around—even
In this marshland,
The grasses have become brown.

I face the streets,
Pot bellied children
Stagger around on
Broomstick legs

I turn further,
See the graduates,
The whimpering soles of their shoes,
Scrapped to the leather
As they trudge the streets
In search of non-existent jobs.

The land is green,
It’s green for me.

I find greenness,
In vacant ghostlike eyes
Of the millions trudging the streets.
I seek greenness,
In the hemp-reddened eyes of the youths,
Pushed to crimes.
All that stares back at me
Are pale brownness and redness

The land is green
It’s green for me.

In the posh residences of
The demonized exploiters,
Green shrubs are flowers.
Well fed children
Bounce around like
Green ping-pong.
Ornately dressed wives,
Shuffle around in
Green abadas.
And in the wallets of them all,
The green dollar is the legal tender.

TY,
Soloist for the state,
What was your motivation?
State-day performances?

——

Blasphemy

We could hear and see them,
Even in the deafness and blindness
Of our pre-being:

Battle clangs in heaven
Michael, commander-in-chief
Of white Jesus’ forces
With black Lucifer (they say he is black)
Wielding one of defence.

It was a battle for supremacy
Between the blacks and the whites.
It was a battle for decimation hinged on
Race supremacy

Blasphemy!

Carried over to earth,
America-the new heaven-
Witnessed it most.
The new heaven, a hot-pot
Of continuing racial battles.

Our heroes fought well;
Amaru Shakur, Afeni Shakur,
Luther King, Malcolm X and others.
Today, Obama barracks to the top,
Garrisoning troops of intelligence and
Eloquence.  It isn’t over yet.

I stare at the sky,
On a cool April morning,
Visions of separated patches of
Black clouds, gray clouds and
White clouds stamp
Memories of our pre-being

Blasphemy!

——
© Nnaemeka Oruh

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