Saturday, 9 March 2024

One Poem by Israel Okonji

 



Fire Room

 

the city is shimmering by the sound from our

room. the door is closed. heat — no face smudges.

espresso cups throbbing: the invasion of boyhood.

Mercury’s occiput is facing our room. a portrait

of drums & scoffs is sensed outside the door:

da-dun da-dun & so on. Mercury, everything is

already a fait accompli, i & my friends might be

atheists — or more.

 

Funʼs album, Some Nights is what i & the boys

are blasting. there has not been sequences of

segueing like this before since Bad, Thriller,

& Off the Wall.

 

we screamed together, some nights i stay up

cashing in my bad luck.

in a room this hot, there is this kind of pop

rock that could eat up our city at this peril

section. primacoustic sounds are here speaking

our cadence into the lobby walls. damn! i dislike

the cameras that are daring to claim our

poignant femurs. our drumsticks are wands: the

cymbals executes their power on the roof.

Kano is a recurring face in our little prism. the

razzmatazz of an esoteric heaven. The Band of

the Apocalypse is our noun. the music is

syncopated, a lady is before our open door.


Israel Okonji (He / Him) is a Southern Nigerian artist of poetry, storytelling & music. He has works in Brittle Paper & Bruiser Magazine, & forthcoming ones in Midsummer magazine, Querencia Press, & Wasteland review. He listens to music ranging from Nas, the Wu-Tang Clan to Chris Brown, Alicia Keys. He hopes to fulfil his dream of collecting records like Craig Kallman. He has a special place for Brit actress Emma Watson in his heart. He tweets @izrltrcz.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Three Poems by John Patrick Robbins

  You're Just Old So you cling to anything that doesn't remind you of the truth of a chapter's close or setting sun. The comfort...