Author: Godzniel

The Word, Poetry and the stories in between

Take My Hands Instead

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One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020

Why’s Intro

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The goal is to sell myself to Life,
But Life said come back when you’re dead,
Commas behind zeroes; I just wanted tomorrow,
I valued it more than the now and the loot oh,

So much Carnage is possible!
But some came from the rubble
Worth are you when I ask
Otherwise it’s your task
Get a thing into time, that will live till it’s killed

Blessings are a present,
that means they are present,
Sometimes I forget
My Spirit will be present

Niel Quchi
© 2020

What Masks?

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The masks represent the pretense we young people of nowadays arm ourselves with in the society.

Even online, and in front of our families;
few of us remain our true selves.

Then there is still the influence of our society on each of us, causing us to choose the version of ourselves that will let us survive.

Only God knows what I really look like.

Niel Quchi
© 2020

Rape Rep

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I represent the biggest scums of the century.
I represent one of the greatest threats to women globally.

Your body is already a beautiful battlefield. A rose with thorns torn apart by it’s blueprint. It is not enough that your body cries rose-coloured tears monthly, some members of my gender have turned your pores into drawers for stashing away years of frustration. Tiny portals of escape, from which they seek prison-breakthroughs. Scofielding along your orchards, fuelled by animalistic passions.

Do something
That’s what I’m trying to say
Show me I am worth the pain, give me hope to a fault; tell me life has a meaning

That’s what I read in your diary
I am what you blame for dying, greet
One of the biggest
scum in existence
Women, they fear me
My favourite victims
…Men mostly in prison.
I am traumatizing

We’ve got a new brand for the parents
Comes with the power to pay rent
Found out I am recycling
Let’s leave the topic quietly
I’ve come from an old day
People started that way
Ignoring any volition
But theirs, until…

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
Niel Quchi
© 2020

Grace

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Only you know the house I built
It’s your love that erases guilt
Humans point fingers past the point
But it is to you that we are joint
Faithful

Raise me up from the dust of my work
It’s your grace that makes me work
Life is like the sea to my boat of breath
But it is for you that it all exists
Selfless

After the storm you are still King
It is said that there is God in everything
I have faith and I’m counting results
But it is as Son that I walk the soils
Adventurous

No one heard the messages
It is us that forget things we’ve seen
Safety is vain for the immortal
But if I have family it’s one for all
Responsible

God over everybody
Leg-over the enemy
Laughter on my family
But sacrifices set the scene
True

Every time I trust in you
You seek me above the flu
Silence isn’t you ignoring
But I will listen to your echoing
Predestined

Niel Quchi
© 2020

Prototype

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So much to say but it all seems shallow
What is it that I have made that time didn’t swallow
Now I say I’m made when I make it to a heart
Lord knows I am no longer at the start

But I live life like I’m a responsible baby
And most of my blood fam don’t know the QuChi
Only time I cry is when I make a battle cry
And when I crack after conquering the pressure

So much to type
But I’m not the type
Seen beyond the hype
I’m a prototype

“Come to me, all you who are heavy-laden…”
But my brothers still prefer to attack the kraken
I have plans but I can’t foresee the next day
So do research when you’re fixing to advise me
Sold at the park, yes I was only beaten by rain
Give me a mic, yes you’ll see just how much I trained

But sometimes the swiftest feet are defeated
And the arm of the mighty get deleted

I put my trust in God, not environment or state
I put my hands to work, some are celebrated late.

Niel Quchi
© 2020

Urgency

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I have a schedule
It isn’t subtle
The purpose is my prison
and in and out of season
I used to be a victim
Of accidents and habits
The devil thought he had me
But Father’s plans are working
Obedience made of loving
The highest of perspectives
The wisest of the wisest
Yeah I have a schedule
Yeah it isn’t subtle
But if thus says the Lord
My schedule sits to watch

Nielquchi
© 2020

WHEN I AM DEAD

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When I’m dead and my tombstone is among the press,
More than fame, did I hug the pressed?
More than religion, did I know deep rest
Or just live with my mouth open…
Never having enough?

Will they say I was circular, just because I circulated?
Will they call me gospel, because I mostly showed up in church clothes?
More than “famzing”, did I have family?
More than pain, did bring relief…
or was pointing fingers the point of hands?

The Niel

©2020