Said the TV’s weatherman,
a bright bloke on grey suit,
and with weeping eyeglasses,
“There’s probability of precipitation.
It’s going to rain from coast to coast.
Umbrellas, raincoats and rain boots
Are cheaper on Ebay.
Order from Amazon . . . galoshes and
calabashes...
It shall rain from Jerusalem to Jericho.
And no one shall be spared from the
sprinkles — be they Republicans
or Democrats.
Blonde or raven-haired.
So plan your wedding when a spell of
sunshine borrowed from Africa
falls on one and all, like the bright light
on the road to Tarsus.
Pray against a jealous tornado
which plans to disrupt graduation ceremonies
across wayward universities.
If you cannot pray, tweet.
Heaven also hearkens to tweets.
If you doubt it,
ask the birds
whom the Lord feeds".
Categories:
calabashes, weather,
Form: Free verse
ANYMORE
Words of wise men has turned evil
And the souls of trusted women has turned to devil
My own humbled spirit rebuked and chocked
And my ways chased after and blocked
Hey books of poverty and nice words of enemity
On whose hands are you lying in this city
Are the words worthy to destroy or build
If the words belong to me then im a child
Dont push those words again
Or whisper them on my ears because here is the rain
I dont belong to the world of darkness
For today i have the moon and sun for brightness
Let me out of your minds
Because you will swayed trees like winds
When i get to my world
Where would you have your pride sold
My world is different from all what you gave
The halves of calabashes you have
Those which you used to convince
See now they deceived you all even the prince
Hey today listen to me in this daylight
Im of the chosen race among the heir of the sight
And my spirit cant fight
With the race of devil sought.
I just feel sorry..@dafinacatensartpieces..instapage??
Categories:
calabashes, anger,
Form: Rhyme
Down below we are running
Through smokes and mirrors,
Down unnamed streets,
Those ships across the lake
Carrying life and our dreams
While our Captains are by the shore
Rolling sand across the beaches.
We have this lemon juice
Squeezed into our eyes
We teach each other to laugh
From the stomach not the throat,
Or else we invite the black hoods
From our corridors to leap upon our bodies
Hold us to the banished concrete floors
With the intent of our moans or cries
When they hold me face down to the ground
Help me as I ask the beads of sweat to shout
For me while they sweetly escape
And behold the scars shall live here
Always scarlet letters on the chest.
We wish also to be sitting on the hill tops with
Folded legs and heads
Rested on clouds
Passing calabashes
Of swollen fruits
Among each other.
Categories:
calabashes, betrayal, hurt, pain, political,
Form: Free verse
The puzzle is puzzling me
the eyes tell hidden stories
this is a real life so puzzling
first look confuses gender
second sight reveals a puzzle
but she is not partly human
body is whole baked cake
lips ice-cream container
milk calabashes sitting there
somewhere lies hot chocolate
forbidden and puzzling reality
the issue summarizing her
but the other part is human
cool, calm and puzzling any way
but full of love and desire
one has to guess what it is
with a rush you tumble over
and you miss forever the puzzle
which man of clay be puzzled?
which man with a case sees not
that she is the issue between
Puzzling chocolate, ice-cream, cake
Chocoholics yearn to bite cake
for that part of you non-human
Excuse me madam the puzzler
do not punish me any longer
let your fire switch of my puzzle
That both of us can rest in chaos
Puzzling others without ado with
The issue between
Categories:
calabashes, metaphor, mystery, woman,
Form: I do not know?
A farmer in my location I am
Wise and knowledgeable I innovate
Today I grow fish in calabash of beer
They are happy swimming, eating
Aquarium of beer is natural home
My fish grows fat and foolish daily
And when I harvest for meals and sale
My fingers and arms they bite not
I want all farmers to imitate me
This is a good business for our times
The fish you grow in beer aquariums
Eat and drink whatever is given
Fellow farmers, come along with me
Let us grow fish in calabashes of beer
Categories:
calabashes, metaphor, rights, satire, song,
Form: Lyric
This is African table manners
When eating talk not with no one
share no joke with table-mates
wait, wait till mouth is tired
and stomachs are shining calabashes
then ask a question as parrots do
not about how much food is eaten
not about yawning mouths at the gate
but how much must be added
and whom must still be excluded
from banquet of modernized Africa
Categories:
calabashes, africa, culture, satire,
Form: Free verse
Two calabashes of milk
loaded ready for pleasure
dangling as ripe paw paws
swollen as tortured frog
are within immediate reach
I ask for a pint to remove thirst
but she tells me in the face
“You have hard brown teeth
your stomach is for bones
this milk is for the toothless
and those with tube stomach
go ask my father and mother
get permission from God
as from me, no access
calabash is for the elect.”
Categories:
calabashes, lust, satire,
Form: Free verse
Childbirth, an act of blase bourgeoisie-
How untrue expression it stand to be
With mother listening to the rhythm of
her dying father's song at noon sleeping?
All noted, supernatural fetishness...
All written, unbelievable forgotten expression.
Our Dibias are home sick without their black cats.
This time, with calabashes filled with dirge
Tales of childhood in African soul.
Takes of their unmerited spiritual failure,
nothing like the weight of a child to the palm,
from hand to lap, to stop the urge from the
longing lower part of the belly...
Nothing taste like child bearing to a mother!
In our bloodshot eyes, we glimpse the vulnerability
that hide itself so well underneath our valuable eyes.
Children are gold, bearing them is an experience
graced perfectly by nature.
Passion lies within its oasis of fate...
Dreams return hope to an unpredictable womb,
Child, a purposeful treasure of a home whose
absent brings hurt and pains.
©John Chizoba Vincent
Cam'god 2017
Categories:
calabashes, africa, age,
Form: Blank verse
That day I died
He tore open his chest
Removed his heart,
and pasted that of a lion
With precision, landed on me
But the world looked on
That day I died
I ran to the mosque
Allah was not there
I tiptoed to the church
Christ was not on the Cross
To the Grotto I hurried
Virgin Mary was missing
I galloped to ancestral shrine
The Living Dead were on recess
But the world looked on
That day I died
He grabbed my calabashes
and drank all the milk
While licking me crazily
With his hollowed horn
in the bushes and hills of Juba
But the world looked on
That day I died
On the ground he held me
Like a submissive goat
being converted into soup
With ferocity of a lunatic
He tore open my granary of life
Pelting off like flu the fruit
Yet the world looked on
That day I died
Categories:
calabashes, feelings, hilarious, horror, humanity,
Form: Elegy
once upon a time I had four legs
I Walked on fours like Garfield my cat
there was a time I carried a lavatory
tucked gently between my thighs
there wasn't any need to move a muscle
I had milk kept within my reach
and the calabashes never dried out
at that time I was self-centered
I only thought of my own feelings
loudly I expressed my wishes
to be granted like a kingly decree
At that time I was a noble
even though my family wasn't royal
working never crossed my mind
it was an alien word I had left behind
and my life was a terrain of fun fair
All this fame and glory drifted with time
have lost the art of walking on fours
not unless I want to be called a mad man
I have to work to attain any glory
to make decisions without hurting those around
for I am a fully gown maggot
Categories:
calabashes, childhood, memory, remember,
Form: Free verse