UDEME RALPH

Age of Madness I’ve seen An eclipse of the stars A sky full of scars Madness born and nursed Chaos ruling over all Glistening blades and riffles Raised unto the heavens By men of faith and spirit, Empty earthlings daily seeking Things never known or seen Pursuing with great zeal The false and the unreal. I’ve seen, Madness in another form Books upon books, Aphorisms and thoughts Esoteric creeds and nonsense New forms of cosmic wreckage Thinkers thinking us into decay Writers writing us out of the way, Leaders and common people Tearing the climate into pieces Animals are bad, But humans are worse We make guns and bombs To bring our species back to  dust Policies and laws Daily draw world Into wars and chaos.

Trouble stares us in the face. The whole world is in shambles. Humanity is on the brink of a great, terrible fall.  I’m starring at the darkening cloud beyond my window, thinking about the decay that has hit the world. It’s not far away, on some TV channels or on the crinkly pages of newspapers. The decay is right here, few yards across the street. I watch with dismay the events that have become the order of the day: nude ladies moving about shamelessly, breasts bouncing in the air. My eyes settle on two women, sauntering along the street, lips contorted seductively, as though the street was not already flooded with debauchery. With the way their hands are knitted, it’s clear what they are: a couple. Their nakedness does not bother them; it bothers no one. It is the height of fashion, nowadays. Clothes of all kinds are becoming obsolete. These women remind me of hominids and apes; perhaps, humankind is returning to its early beginnings. Their skins are laden with inks. Tatto...

No God, no laws No scheme or order Demons or angels Just science and art And witty thoughts From wise, bearded oldies. No truth, no precision No sacred creeds to relish, Or revelations to believe Just flickering facts Flowing with the tides Ever changing, never stable. No God, no saviours No boons for my labours Just me in a dying world, Going round praying in vain, Just me, all by myself, Life fashioned for the grave My skulls for termite’s games No heaven, no hell No other world but this, This dying earth, This fading speck In the boundless heart of space Miserable man, tossed by fate Alive as brutes and birds A wretch, a dung: poor me! Better dead than to live In a world so sick and grim Better never to have been Than to be and see all these. Better to be nothing Than to be human. 

To the wars and strife and all the maladies of life Love is the way the narrow path the strait gate the last resort to be sought Love lies in the heart. It is close, it rests on our palms runs in our veins waiting to be unveiled It's not in countries not gone or in worlds unseen Not a virtue to seek or a gem in a lost world It's here, daily beckoning on us, on humankind It cries, and wails ceaseless to see these bombs all gone, to draw us to our senses.

         The word “eternity” invokes in the mind a sense of awe and eeriness. Consequently, some people have consigned the concept to the realm of the transcendent, the religious, and the superstitious. But, is “eternity” such a distant idea, reserved only for the superman? That does not seem to be the case. On the contrary, eternity is not as transcendent as we make it seem. Each day, we interact with eternity; we engage and exist in eternal dimensions, without even knowing. We behold eternity every moment of our lives and call it another name. We may find no clue, nothing corporeal enough to point us to the direction of eternity: everything everywhere appears transient and subjected to the laws of wear and tear. But appearance is one thing and reality is another. In reality, we are surrounded with eternities—not merely with theories and concepts of eternity but with eternity itself.    What then is eternity? A simple, single definition wil...

         “As you say,” Gordon said. “I feel we need to make good use of this opportunity, however, for none of us ever believed that we would be allowed into your abode. We feel honored to sit before you this day. Please, if there is a mystery we must first unveil, it is you. Tell us more about yourself. The last time some visiting emperors inquired from me useful information about you, I was dumbfounded. Was Tamac truly your father? Had you an encounter with supernatural powers when you were but twenty four years of age? Did you receive a vision from God to relocate to this place? Please, we want to hear these things from your own mouth.”      “Questions upon questions. But these are the last sort that I expected from you today. Still, I will provide answers. You know me as Theophilus Tamac, a once philosophical man who was made insane by inexplicable realities. Yes, I know that is how you see it. And yes, my name is Theophilus Tamac, but...

It comes at dawn, And grows with the sun, It laughs and sprawls And walks from court to court Jack of all trade, master of none Passing, emitting dread and gloom Dancing to unheard cosmic tunes Until its pride falls at noon For a while it staggers about, To east, west, north and south, Until at last eastward it crawls Beating its bearers’ little feats Straddling nations and tongues Ruling the woods with its murk Obstinate, lawless, and weird, Through thorns and thistles wades A mystery lying upon the ground A voiceless confounder of throngs Today a man, tomorrow a brute This hour by Bethsaida’s Pool Inert, static, drained of strength A moment passes, at byways of haste The day quickly fades and glories wane, And the dark man dies away to rise again.

After this and after that After labour and strife, The odds and pains of life The dreams of our little hearts These little lights of ours When finally blown down After we’ve breathed our last, And brutes devour our scalps. After life, after men and earth, When none of these remain, After learning, knowing and teaching, When reading ends and writing ceases After history, and law, and math, And theories and latitudes on maps, When planes and birds no longer soar From east to west, and north to south. When everything fades: All gone from view When sound and vision fails And this sand and dust, like dew Ascends lofty heights of no return Our bones cracked and crunched Our world blown up and burnt What will be left untouched? When all is said and done, When the battle of life is fought Whether won or lost We will meet at yonder’s post. To do things never done And sing songs never sung In strange new worlds Where suns ...