Poetry (2): Eulogy for the Recalcitrant Dung

This piece was written when the Gulf War II was still raging. (Well, I think that inferno still burns). You can make of it what you will. But, if you bear in mind the date of this poem, I am sure you will appreciate both the context and my direction. Happy reading:

Eulogy for the Recalcitrant Dung
Rebellion is sometimes a necessity;
Sometimes inevitable;
Sometimes praiseworthy.

No matter the supremacy of the oppressor;
Irrespective of the cost to the rebel;
No matter the overwhelming strength of the opposition;
Irrespective of the superior might of the subjugator.

Especially when the survival of the man in you is at stake;
Especially when faced with extinction;
Especially when confronted with extermination;
Especially when defiled with abuse;
Especially when your spirit faces humiliation.

At least the Tortoise believes in this philosophy;
No wonder he defied the Mighty Elephant
When the Elephant, as the Police of the state,
As the custodian of “Law and Order”,
Came to arrest the hapless, defenseless and powerless Tortoise;

‘Give me just one second, please’, requested the witty Tortoise.
‘What do you want to do?’ demanded the surprised Powerhouse.
The Tortoise, on being released from the suffocating grip of the Elephant,
Scratched the earth and the grasses with his feet.
‘Now, I’m ready for your arrest’, he announced.

The Elephant, still confused, asked:
‘Why on earth have you scratched the surface of the earth this way?’
‘Well’, retorted the Tortoise after a deep breath of satisfaction and relief,
‘People passing by will know that I have not given up without at least a fight.’

That is the principle behind the relentless opposition of the Stubborn Dung;
When he was banished to the Toilet sink by the gormless Man
He refused to be flushed down the drain without a fight.
Yea, he knew the strength of Water, as an agent of Man’s janitorial state;
Just like the Tortoise knew the awesome size and strength of the Elephant.
Yet, he would not like to die a coward.

No wonder he resurfaced defiantly after the torrent of the flushing Water had subsided.
Dancing defiantly from side to side in the sink;
Lashing out at Man’s nostrils with some doses of his defensive aroma.

Well, like the Tortoise, the Dung finally gave up;
Satisfied that his defiance has taught some lessons to both Water and his master, Man;
Yea, the Defiant Dung knows that it is Man that gave him his strength;
Was it not just yesterday
That greedy Man had treated his palate to all the delicacies his stomach cavity could accommodate?
And worse still
Did he even bother to wash the delicacies down his stomach with enough water?

Having used the nourishing Mother of the Dung to prolong his life;
Having used the delicious Mother of the Dung to increase his strength;
Having used the dutiful Mother of the Dung to expand his size,
The ungrateful Man now uses Water to flush the defenseless Dung down the drain.

This is the height of ingratitude;
All praise the Defiant Dung;
Long, may you live, the Defiant Dung!
(Dili Ojukwu, 01/07/03)

Poetry (1): Swimming for Life

After thinking about it, I have decided to share some of my yet-to-be-published poems with you, starting with this one written in February 2005 during a bus ride to Tottenham in London. Commuting by train or bus provides some refreshing reflections on life. Such reflections provide the fertile grounds and inspirations for serious soul-searching exercises which sometimes result in poetic outpourings like the one below. And by the way, my collection of poems under the umbrella of "The Ravings of a Wounded Spirit" is still in the works. Well, happy reading:

Swimming for Life
Life is like the waters,
Oceans, seas, lakes, rivers and streams;
We, the creatures, are
Just the swimmers.

We can fly like the birds;
Walk like man and other mammals;
Crawl like the snake
Or hop like the kangaro.

We, the creatures, are
Just swimmers
Struggling to survive
In these waters called life;

We are struggling
In our own various ways
To find ourselves
On the other side of the waters

Sometimes in the middle of the waters
We seem to be tired of swimming
Our hands and legs
Become too heavy and painful
To be dragged along.

Sometimes we look up
And feel that the journey
Is still too far and nigh impossible
To complete.

Sometimes the pain and strain of swimming
Take a heavy toll on our resolve for survival
We become despondent
And want to give up the struggle

Then comes a glimmer of hope
The hope of the despairing swimmer
Then comes a straw
We clutch at it
With all the remaining strength we can muster
We clutch at it
With desperation

With some luck
Sometimes with or without a comensurate effort
We navigate successfully
To the other side of the waters

Sometimes we become
Too strong for the straw
Especially when the straw
Is not deep-rooted
The torrent of life
The torrent of the waters
Sweep us down the stream
To continue the struggle elsewhere
If we survive the turbulence
Of the waters.
Dili Ojukwu (17/02/05)