MUTATIS MUTANDIS(mystic chant)

Mutatis Mutandis,
Can you understand this?
The mind and body changes,
Juxtaposes roses n poesies.

Mutatis Mutandis,
No one else knows this,
The past is coming up roses,
And the future juxtaposes
roses n poesies.

And you can see me,
On coloured TV,
And you can watch me,
Do my thing.

Mutatis Mutandis,
Let me whisper this,
Softly like a kiss,
The mind re arranges,
Everything changes,
And the future’s coming up roses,
No one else knows this,
Mutatis Mutandis,
The mind juxtaposes,
Changes n posies.
Posted by chidi ejikeme at 4:13 AM 0 comments

Shell, Nigeria and Ogoni 9

Ogoni 9

(here is another matter for which Shell Pet is also accounatble for)

Still.
Dot.
Nowhere to go,
But to the otherworlds otherside,
Trapped in the lines in the leaves of the books,
Trampled in the lines of the prints of the jackboots,

Thud.
Dot.
Silenced in the middle of a point,
the universe implodes into a pinhead,
And the dense world of the living dead,
Where density is the imprimatur of being.

Silence.
Immanently shining,
Imminently declining,
The Point. Dot. Before the Beginning,
The Voice. Dot. Before the Command,
The Poise. Dot. Before the Pose.

Well, here we are, yet,
Where you are not,
We are Homo sapiens, Cognoscenti,
Brothers in Sapienthood,
And the overstuffed homo erecti,
Are on all fours again,
Soon to resume the fetal position, again.

ThisDay, on this Island of insignificance,
This Wellspring of Nothingness,
Where we float from benightedness to chaos,
Noble Savages they are not,
Floating on a bloodclot,
See the crimson sunset glow,
See the hangman’s noose flow,
See the assassins bullets grow,
Dead metaphors laden our graven dialectics,
9 dead critics, felled as heretics.

Ladies and gentlemen, please no heroics,
We are blacks,

Here we,
Sell Our Souls
To
Save Our Skins.
On ThisDay the Black Dialectic,
Remains Skin Deep; pseudo historic.
6 feet minus Skin Deep from Tyranny,
An inch away from redundancy,
Another inch away from lunacy,
And another excuse to extend the litany,
Of Blues,
Of Woes,
Of Sad Songs and sadder tomorrows.

On ThisDay, Friday 14th of November 1995,
The HomoErecti refuse to come alive,
The HomoErectum, achieved his General evolutionary desire,
He becomes an erection that refuses to die.



Written on the 14th of Nov. 1995,
Chidi Ejikeme

OGONI 9 (and force major)

Still.
Dot.
Nowhere to go,
But to the otherworlds otherside,
Trapped in the lines in the leaves of the books,
Trampled in the lines of the prints of the jackboots,
Thud.
Dot.
Silenced in the middle of a point,
the universe implodes into a pinhead,
And the dense world of the living dead,
Where density is the imprimatur of being.
Silence.
Immanently shining,
Imminently declining,
The Point. Dot. Before the Beginning,
The Voice. Dot. Before the Command,
The Poise. Dot. Before the Pose.
Well, here we are, yet,
Here you are not,
We are Homo sapiens, Cognoscenti,
Brothers in Sapienthood,
And the overstuffed homo erecti,
Are on all fours again,
Soon to resume the fetal position, again.
ThisDay, on this Island of insignificance,
This Wellspring of Nothingness,
Where we float from benightedness to chaos,
Noble Savages they are not,
Floating on a bloodclot,
See the crimson sunset glow,
See the hangman’s noose flow,
See the assassins bullets grow,
Dead metaphors laden our graven dialectics,
9 dead critics, felled as heretics.
Ladies and gentlemen, please no heroics,
We are blacks, here we,
Sell Our Souls
To
Save Our Skins.
On ThisDay the Black Dialectic,
Remains Skin Deep; pseudo historic.
6 feet minus Skin Deep from Tyranny,
An inch away from redundancy,
Another inch away from lunacy,
And another excuse to extend the litany,
Of Blues,
Of Woes,
Of Sad Songs and sadder tomorrows.
On ThisDay, Friday 14th of November 1995,
The HomoErecti refuse to come alive,
The HomoErectum, achieved his General evolutionary desire,
He becomes an erection that refuses to die.



Written on the 14th of Nov. 1995,
Chidi Ejikeme