I wish not to be the
president
For I shall not sleep at wish
I wish not to be the lawmaker
For I may break them
I wish not to be a judge
My son may be docked before me
I wish not to be a priest
I might not heal the sick
I wish not to be an actor
Someone might call me indecent
I wish not to be a teacher
I might teach outdated principles
I wish not to be an executor
I might execute someone for a crime
I also committed some time ago
All I wish is to be me
Living life as it unfolds.
Executors
Mare
Death assured, the shame of
hanging
Teardrops, sighing as we say goodbye
Like departing lovers;
Murder is committed
Though couched in legality
”Though shall not kill”
For the freeman is not free
Whose life and in death
Is a TV soap opera
The people shall shout
Like the Jews during Christ’s trial
’Crucify him; crucify him.’
Fish Bone
In the middle of a meal
As tempting as Nebuchadnezzar’s table
She feasted fiercely
Blind to the protruding bone,
in the fish she churns
Alas a cry
For help,
Creating a sore in the throat
Neither water nor food
Shall find its way down
For her system is corrupted
Like our system of governance
She must be treated
For there to be an improvement
Me, My
Origin, My Ideology
Here is a creature like the
sun,
A black son,
Proud, patriotic, African
though having a romance with America.
His ambition’s so high
like a microscopic sight
to change some wrongs done
through words so compiled
He is not popelistic
Rather very optimistic
visualizing an Africa without spot
An Edenic enclave for all
With means choked and paralyzed
In an economy crippled and criticized
He soars, an eagle with clipped wings
to the height of the skies
To loose the mind and the aim
the very reason of his birth
I apologize for being Black
tell me, what I would have been?
I am proudly Black:
I look forward to a unified race
Where color is a mere feature
and not a distinction
Where our hearts will beat
to corroborate this rhythm
Of world peace,
A planet free from hunger
Power
A force greater than
And stronger than hurricane
Given to the wise and the fool alike
But thou art a test of wisdom
Thou expose capability ‘n’ possibility
To your holders, making them lords
Something that command science
Making gods out of men
Let us charge power positively
And make ourselves equal
Thou not equally
At least not to meager
For the value of power
Is in its positive dispensation
Our
Dignity
Shall I begin to mourn you
having the hope of your resurrection
like the early Christians
who believed that Christ would again rise?
Dear Motherland,
will though ever rise again?
The Jews of your day
and the high priests of your land
are more callous and desperate
they want you crucified and crushed
in fear of your rising again.
We, the believers, are becoming doubtful
once you fed us with Milk and honey,
These the high priest kept for themselves;
Your cause we can no longer advocate
with weak brains and empty stomachs
Our children call us fools
because we refuse compliance in the sharing
Dear Motherland,
Thy breasts run with endless milk
yet your children are given pap
See our faces, dried and scraggy,
Your name, once a blessing, now torments,
Our right to freedom of movement,
Our liberty to associate, are infringed on.
We dare not associate with foreigners—
They call us thieves,
Judas has sold not only Christ
But has accused us of his death
Tell us mother,
direct our course, hear our petition
Send the holy spirit
not as tongues of fire,
but as mouths open wide
To consume these tyrants
and free us from this slavery
Slavery of inhuman treatment,
Slavery of starvation, of poverty, of selfishness,
Free us from the slavery of being refugees
In our own home
Free us from the slavery of contentment,
Contentment at eating from the crumbs
Falling off the king’s table
Rise dead brothers,
Rise nationalists,
Rise artisans,
Rise students,
Rise, all.
Restore the Dignity of Nigeria
About
Magnus Amudi Nwagu
