Poetry: The Whiteness



I tire of white walls

Cold metal framing the cloying stench of age

and helplessness

I tire but I’ve learnt to stay gracious

Yes it is possible.

-To lie back and shut your eyes

to student doctors bouncing ideas off my breasts

mentally drift from prodding specialists

and consultants in wild guesses

It is possible to accept the misery

that will gradually become you

Master the jargon of bad news

and with the bad news, bad bills

Decipher doctorish scrawl

even the cacaphony underneath


Conquer the urge

to inquire about missing neighbours

empty beds that held the shallow breathing

And hollow silences that ring in bitter wailing

I know what the answer will be

To rest I say, to death they claim

-Are they not one and the same?



This year I’ve been “googling” myself to find poems of mine scattered all over the internet. And bringing them home. yes home. This is home. And what does that say about me, that I would call a site home? Hmmm…

And I’ve been rewriting them, tweaking, i don’t want to but i cant help myself. working on my Type A though…And sometimes i could swear there’s progress and then stuff like this shows up

Anyway this is the original of The Whiteness on GuerillaBasement as I wrote it in July of 2011 and  it was performed in 2012 by Wana Udobang, Nigerian radio personality, writer and one-time colleague.




Photocred: dezeen.com


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