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A PSALM ON THE STREET – A POEM BY OKEKE PRECIOUS
The Lord is my shepherd,
Though I sleep on the street;
I shall not want
A LETTER TO MY FATHER – A POEM BY OKEKE PRECIOUS
Hold on death let me kiss the devil’s grandson good bye……
HOME BECAME HELL – A POEM BY OKEKE PRECIOUS
The day Emeka found me, he murdered me
I saw my spirit leaving my body like vapours;
His breaths, steaming my already tired soul
WHERE I COME FROM
Where I come from is a place where we must gather the pieces of us;And glue it together with love, putting out the garment of war and putting on PEACE.
BEING A NIGERIAN
To be a Nigerian is to be born without your voice being heard, you tie your voice with your fear and hide it in your belly. You die with your eyes open and with your life threatened.
IF I WERE A POET
If I were a poet, I’d paint the words with my love sketch some lives into my lines, and fill the shadow with my pains.