Bugs

                      BUGS
Tse tse flies come to perch on my skin
Teasing Vernon and promise of sleep
I hurt long and deep

Flies  come
drilling holes in my pours,
liquid in my blood

I Never heal
Carry their sickness forever.

~Conquer. T. Igali. 12/2/19

The last day

''Remember the last day'', the Keke Napep wrote at its disappearing rear, while it rode slowly in front of us, damning the horns from the King Koko driver, yesterday.

It was 6:23 AM and the early morning had left a blurry mist  on the dawning daylight as though to leave an imprint of what it can do, as though to say 'I am capable of leaving a bit of me on your slow overthrow :-).

I looked away to the side of the road to ponder a bit at the morning's beauty, the fading images, and back to the creeping Napep but saw nothing anymore.

It had faded like a lost idea.

Like an evaporated hope.

'Remember the last day'...

And I wandered what the Napepian was thinking or what he sort to convey when he scribbled those words at the back of his job.

Collage

Spontaneous Creativity: The unedited Poetic Stylings of Miz, Nathaniel, Opumie & Eye Kay.

More often than not, social media is used as a platform to engage the senses of users to achieve varied goals, some of which are often entertainment without an intention to impulsive creativity.  I am often this way. So yesterday, I posted a photo on my Whatsapp status with an idea to call for a poetry tag-team to create a poem (

a poetry duet, more like it!) for fun. 

The only rule was this; write lines from a theme suggestive of the image attached. Three people volunteered to spare a minute.  Soonest Iheanyi Nathaniel, EC Opumie, and Eye Kay N chose themes ranging from love, loneliness, and pain.  The results where genius and beautiful, and unedited!                                                                      (1)  A limbic duet By Miz Conquer Soonest I. Nathaniel Miz In the dead of night I lay awake in the musk of a guilt thrusted on me by body counts, of uneven numbers, and hopes buried in limbo. SIN Fibonnaci holds the secret, but how do I say it's you I crave, how do I pray to the God of prime numbers? So I cling to the square roots of memories, love is an equation, there is an ecstasy yet to be proved. Miz You are my ecstasy,  my Eve moment of choice between the apple and snake. You are my knowledge and my woe. My already had and my known. SIN Between two positions, love, please let me relight the candles and circle the grave where we have buried lust with chalk. Let us eat again of that fruit of knowledge and woe, let us raise a temple at the spot of refuge where we hid, our maker will not ask why we have come naked. I come again to your garden alone, defying limits, outsmarting Newton; between promise and fact, pleases etch again your name as a sacred word at the tip of my tongue. (2)  Journey to the sea of rebirth and light A poem by Ec Opumie, Miz Conquer Miz I think of you, lover. Keeper of my lost days and maybe- things. I lay in a sea of cotton softness mimicking the sight and smell of you. Ec 2. Every night I pray our simple love last forever. Miz 3. Forever, for that is what loving you feels like. You are my now and eternity. My present and future and infinity Ec 4. Thoughts of you surround me. You are the beating of my heart. The love you give defines me. My life is no longer dark. Miz 5. Ah! Come to me my love. Let us lay in this sea of white that is us. This purity that joins our rebirth and light Ec 6. Your cuteness knows no bounds, your beauty has no limit, you are the only woman in the world, to which I will commit.  I look at you and gasp in awe, wondering how you are mine and I am yours, you take my breath away my sweetheart, for you, I will walk the line. Ec l love the way you nag and glare. It makes me know how much you care I love the way you walk, just like a man. Not really sexy but it sure is fun. I love you just the way you are. No pretention even from afar. I love you because you love me too Just like the way I do. (3)   The Sea of Loneliness A poem by Miz Conquer Eye Kay N. Miz I lay here in a sea of Cotton creases, like waves through skin, palms forming motions , reaching for a nothing that once was everything Eye kay This bed is much too big for one, and the spaces between my fingers are right where yours used to fit. Miz I lay here in want, a million thoughts foraging for memory of you. Eye Kay They say the worst thing in hell is the knowledge that you missed heaven, so the worst part of being alone is missing you Miz But who needs a heaven when anywhere with you bests the best of heavens and hells my love? My furnace is when you are not here with me. My furnace is when are with me as well Eye Kay A furnace, I burn, consuming what is present, fuelled by what is absent, and the ache I feel is begging for your sweet release Miz Sweet release. In your arms I find the best things. In you, my great love, is  the beauty of an ocean breaking on rocks. Of waterfalls, and of waters between thighs. Eye Kay Like waves, we surge, we urge, we pooled and ebbed, slowed and steadied, and only when the waves break on the rocks do my eyes open and I find. Myself. Alone.

On Transgression Day

Bury me in the multitude of my sins.

Lift my transgressions like scoops of mud with shovels and pile on my decomposing flesh.

Bury away my memory and moans so you may rise on the third day in saintly Ascension, Christlike and free of memory.

An inquiry into a Nigerian usage; Humility.

Why.

Why is it that whenever you scrutinise the narrative about a Nigerian's  'humility' you'll find him/her constantly debasing him/herself to appear acceptable and relatable to others, and often when Nigerians say 'so and so is very REAL' they meant to translate real to mean ghetto, crass, and broke ( or at least rich but behaving as though you are broke).

Questions

Why do bad things happen to good people? What reward await suffering here on Earth?

For hours now I've been lying on my favourite sheets, thinking. Prior that I'd woken from two dreams. In the first, a gang of robbers had attacked and stollen my car and my phone. Then proceeded to leak unclothed photos of me on my Facebook after threatening an ex of mine to pay them not to and he refused. In the second dream I saw a crowd surrounding a man beating a Caucasian looking woman with no one raising a voice or a finger to help her. I couldn't penetrate the ring of lookon crowd so I ran up and down the street begging for people to come so we can help her...

So, why do bad things happen to good people? First off, I have noticed that I live in a society were people are either too lazy to question things or ask for explanations on things that concern them. This is worse when the subject matter or the being asked the question is God. People are swift to ask you to shut your questions away from God when you ask about the 'why's'. They are not too meek to ask the God to bless them though.

I've had this question in my head for like forever. Why do bad things happen to good people, especially people who believe in an all round superior being with the power to cause a thing to being, or not.

Why? Why do a merciful God turn his back on a helpless subject,

why?

Why do good people suffer all of life's pains and evil men go free?

why?

Because I was

raised very Christian, my brain auto corrects my inquiry with biblical references on this 'why, one of such examples is the story of Job.

See, Job is possibly the authority on senseless pain met on a righteous man without his participation or consent. In the Bible, the book of Job Is the story of a godly and righteous man with everything, that became the subject of a bet between God and the devil. The only person that lost everything in the bet was Job. God permitted the Devil to destroy everything job had. Health, Riches, killed his grown up children, everything!

Don't worry though. At the end of the bet after Job did not still 'curse' God, God gave him a second chance at acquiring the health and children and health and everything. It all worked out at the end for Job. Right? And this, my dear, is the default response you will get from an average Christian when you question your pain alongside biblical references.

Men are clay.

Men are nothing before God. When you are tempted with pain, endure it, thank him. whenever you are tempted with or given pleasure, enjoy it. Give thanks.

We are nothing.

We are possibly at the losing end of a bet at all times when we are feeling grave pain. Right? OK.

Now, unto my second wandering, what reward await suffering on earth?
Many religions  have devised a clever response to that question. Sufferers get  go to a special place called heaven or something close depending on the diction used. Like Job, if we do not question our gambler, we get to get it easy in a next life right? Ok.

Splendid.

So when does the good ferry come in for hurting people here on earth?

Job got ten fold of the things he lost. All his children, grown up children with memories died for a bet. He had more as reward. But any parent who had lost children or grown adult kids will tell you having more kids never fully heals their broken hearts, never takes the loss away, never kills the memory of the dead...

who also thinks like I do that Job was a broken man even  after the kids came the second time?

And why do humans still insist on their worthlessness even when same person could tell you that God so loved humans that he sent  a Godson just to die and cleans humans? Why are we encouraged to fear even with all the touted love and mercy?

And why do bad things happen to good people? What reward awaits suffering here on earth?

Still musing on The story of  the biblical Job:

Why!

Why wasn't the pain of the mother of Job's kids considered in the equation when God and the Satan were betting and gambling on Job's faith?  The kids were hers too. She birthed them. Suffered through pregnancy and childbirth. Carried the scares of having nurtured them into adulthood. Their memories were hers too!

Why wasn't the children themselves spared on their own recognizance?

Why weren't they shown mercy and love and the promise of long life?

And when the mother spoke through her pain, she was killed, and job married another woman (women) to procreate the second set of children abi? Right

The bet between God and Satan wasn't theirs. But they paid ultimately for it.  Why?

Why?

I should stop thinking aloud now. I am so spent.

Like Vanilla, Monterrey, California.

She smelt like vanilla, Monterey, California.
He told her so.

He does not tell her he hates vanilla now.

She sits down beside him, touching the sides of his weakness.

He sits rigidly, detached by her starter.

She tells him he smelt like chocolates, dark.

He nodes, heads for the door knob.

She lets him exit.

The curtains flail in protest.

 He pauses outside the door only for a second as she reaches for the notebook to write

Notes for their funeral.

Conquer Igali. (C) 2015

On Pain And Happiness

Sadness, Sorrow and pain forces some wisdom upon us.

Happiness , bliss and enjoyment takes away some wisdom from us as though in bits.

This may not be absolute truths, but I am thinking about this just now

Tracing Lines.

I'd close my eyes and trace the edges of your face into memory, for when you are no longer here, my mind will still remember you because I'd traced the contoured ridges on your fading memories.

What The River Brings

How To Set a Burn

*I ate your girlfriend
Didn't need ketchup or sauce
I only spread lips that said (O)
And tongue that flicked strawberries
Now, burn.*

OK. Calm down. This is an imagined practice sub-text for  a rapper or music artist. I am a little bored with the Nigerian artist singing about cassavas and bananas. When are they going to address a woman's needs and get a conversation going about proper eating etiquettes? I don't mind if a rapper sings a diss rap like so.

If you are as sick as I am, suggest these burn lines to a Nigerian lyrical artist. I do not mind, just have him credit me for my intellectual property. Das all!

Miz Conquer.
8/11/2017

A Cure For Death.

The cure for growth is death.
...
The cure for death is growth.

Cactus and Weed.

Two cactus plants stood buried in white flower vases outside the door. There is manure, dirt, weed and sand in the vases.

I had not remembered to water the cactus in weeks now but they were fine. Cant say same for the weed though. The drought in the pots had dried them up. Poor weed.

 In relationships. When we forget to water our feelings, they'd dry up too, leaving wasted fibers on concrete hearts.

Life After Death?

What if sleep and dreams are God's reminder to Man that there is life after death?

Staying petty

If you are Nigerian, over 35 and still single, plan a yearly fundraising event for yourself and call it the "Mind (insert your name)'s fundraiser'. (Run this event until you are married)

Make it public and fancy, preferably a black tie event.

Make sure to invite everyone that has something to say about your relationship status or insult/gossip you for it and give them special tables for 100,000 or more. These people have a lot to say about how you should live and what you should be doing with your life. They should at least pay you to live the life they want you to live, no?

Invite Exes and their spouses just for the hell of it. Give them 500,000 vip tables or more. They shouldn't only be allowed to ruin your life. Let them help rebuild it too.

When petty people go low, go so high that they can't afford to mention your name without repercussions.

(c) Conquer Igali.

Bubbles

Floating pieces of you trail my neckline.

I fear to touch you because all bubbles break

Like you did

Like I will.

Silent questions.

A broken man questions to understand.

So I understand what place of pain a man strains from to ask why a God mighty in battle, that protects his children from harm sits still as armed men walk in his house and murder his worshipers.

A broken man questions to understand. But a foolish man takes a stand from a position of ignorance.

Rocks Cry.

I know rocks cry when we take machines to them, breaking off it's skins till only a puddle is left where strength once stood.

Blessings.

*May you ride on the back of lions, the Krakan, and lightening bolts.

*May the back of crocodiles rescue you and your kin from drowning.

*May pythons fold as pillows for your sleeping head.

And when you go hunting with blunt tools, *may the waters release a sharpened set to aid your day's toil.

Blessings.

When men seek to curse you, *may dragons swallow and spit their curses back at them. Now. And forever.