Two Poems by Deborah Akubudike

Pseudo-Psycho

she threw me shards of glass,
gave me perfect cuts – a cup of tea; whispering,

you’re not good enough.
you think?

i’m one of those who drew you y’know.
hell yeah, i draw so damn well, bitch!
draw out my veins, thread by thread,
sew a dress to cover your naked body.
draw up my drowning psyche from your
ocean’s belly.
draw you a picture of a man crushed by a sandstorm,
teach you brownian motion the hard way [with art]
through his body;
close it up by turning yours to ashes. or something inside of you,
groping like you are.

some girl’s hand’s reaching out to me
from a closed cupboard.
it’s not dark, but i don’t see her; i just feel soft fingers
doodle invisible marks on my chest, massage me slowly as if trying to say,
“take it easy…easy…”

i’m trying
not to binge live. but tell me,
is there any other way round a bridge asides the one parallel
to your trembling feet? i guess not.

i’m one who understands this world’s
binary system – if it ain’t one,

it’s zero.


War-rant from the East

there were marching bands – the kind during funerals: when
soldiers die in place of kings, no matter how cruel.

everyone, someone, or a group of people screaming like
a man’s mother holding a green cloth stained with someone’s blood. a man’s trying to rip out the stained area with high hopes, & history seems to be repeating itself.

place gold chains
on teeth. try to remind
us where we come from, with whips.
plait our coarse hairs with wires from the northern hemisphere
of a bald country. aye, bloody braids lock us between someone’s gapped
teeth.

i see iron bars hang on my head,
like “bangs” – sparks of it lit my face & mother’s searching for me.
she still thinks i’m at the war front, or dicing my fingers on social media’s
chop board.


i’m not a fool yea. trade the christmas tree for one eyeball,
a pine tree for another.
“i can’t tell”, you think
i can’t tell what you doin’ huh?
who told you soldiers don’t die?
with or without pride, death is death & the soul’s another forgotten memory. fight for peace? – ironic indeed.

“cease fire! i repeat, cease fire!! you’re under arrest!!!”

pain doesn’t ease pain: why can’t humans understand?
i’m somewhere close to home, watching the parade with all sympathy & you can agree,
people sign their death warrant the very moment they are born,

alive.


Akubudike Deborah is a poet and lyricist who draws her inspiration from various things including the Bible, philosophy, Greek mythology, art, etc. She can be reached on Twitter: @akubudikedebbie; Instagram: @ad_poet and blog: https://adpoet.home.blog.

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