Category: Poems

DIVIDED

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I see you now, on the other side of the drawn line

Before us lies what makes ourselves apart, what causes us to fight

To tear merely hostile glances, but keeps our eyes from meeting

From interlocking, until there are examinations of our souls, until we commune

From one end of one’s imagination, arms may stretch to catch another’s

But the indoctrination of set-apartedness has smothered desire for peace

All I want is to war with you

All you want is to destroy my realm and make me wrong

All we want is to be perfection, and the other, wrongfulness defined

Besides the standing order though, there’s a lingering wait

Internal contradiction, twined it seems, by my own unease

I am battling to keep down the rising wanting palpitation

I want you to be here, or somewhere with me

Not beaten to death, after our swords have crossed, or missiles have flown

But in the circle of belonging, of friendship that is deeper than brotherhood

We want our lives together, sharing what differing but common gifts we’ve recieved

We want the cremation of fear and suspicion, the annihilation of othersidedness

We want the truce and the treaty to be articles that call us to love

To be in awe of the bond of our common hope in our savior’s promise

If we are in want of stretching out our arms to each other

We cannot catch those who truly are unlike us and are falling off

We could then be just as lost as they

Living pieces in spite of God’s gift of a complete picture beautiful

Our harmony as ones saved and in love

In Him.

NOVEMBER SPECIAL/ The End: It’s Time

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hands.jpg

The World was Once created and it’s People Predestinated before the Hands of Time,

The Evil getting worse and the corrupt becoming more corrupt,

While the Good constantly battle to get juice out of Life.

Precept upon precept, Line upon line,

Phases upon phases, Minute by minute, one second after another,

The hour glass gradually gets empty as the fading procedure slowly continues,

Not just here but far and beyond.

But it’s so funny, how everything looks like the end,

That one sinner looking for the next bend and just can’t find it.

The Manifestation so amazing,

And the evil of the world now attractive to all men,

The wicked doing more wickedly as the persecution of the saints increases day by day,

Innocent bloodshed capable of destroying the soul

With the vein of corruption spreading like wild fire.

So no time for play,

Because the porter is coming not just for his clay,

But a content of holiness, who with him would stay,

Many will be burnt like hay,

While others will gently fade away,

Some would be caught up in the air,

While a lot will just mop unaware,

Then the reality of a new world will be crystal clear,

And where you abide will be determined by whom you truly feared.

It’s not about the post or big titles,

But your heart, ways and sincerity,

It’s not by the amen and hallelujah,

Nor by the shouts and crazy noises,

But a clear spirit full of Jesus.

Now God needs you to stand by your choice,

Because His blood has been shed,

His Life has been given,

His Son has been slain,

Friends, Don’t be Deceived, The Time to give Account is Here.

Written By

Omoloba Daniel Moyinoluwa (Beulah Speaks Inc.)

Phone Number: 2347060790959 Email Address: daniloba93@yahoo.com

BB Pin: 2B9881B3 Twitter Handle: @BeulahSpeaks

I Pledge Allegiance!

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On our first date, He didn’t just grab the cheques
He also foot every bill I owed. Death.
Like literally. His foot bears the mark till date!
You see, He took them nails for the sake of my little fingernails.
He took thirty nine lashes to safeguard my eyelashes.

You guys propose on your knees
Think you’re cool.
My lover? He proposed on a tree!
With a bomb! Arms spread wide!
Blew me away. How romantic!

Strapped the bombs on his waist: sickness and sin.
Unlocked the pin,
Screamed the detonation code so my ex could hear it:
“A lie! A lie! The-Mark’s-about-turning.”
And forever changed the mark of death on me.

I pledge allegiance to the greatest suicide bomber
Not for religious fanaticism. Or political activism.
But just so He can prove His love for me!
I pledge allegiance to the greatest suicide bomber.
I pledge allegiance to Jesus, the Christ!

SUBTLE

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She began speeding down the road
A million miles per hour
Blindfolded
A smile pasted on her face
Oblivious she was headed in the wrong direction.

Just imagine her short-lived disdain when the obstacle suddenly cut short her fairy tale ride and the last sound she ever heard was her cry…

She had her hands on the controls
Everything seemed right
So she figured,
She could afford to shut her eyes and enjoy the ride.
A ride, everyone had stamped as alright
Besides everybody was doing it now
…so why contrive?
What worked for them should definitely work in my different way for me
So freeway or highway she was definitely bound to end up this way anyway.

You can imagine the way that smile immediately turned upside down

No! literally it turned upside down
Because her head on collision with deception and betrayal
Hurt and disappointment
Crashed into the ill placed curb of destruction
Carefully camouflaged by a black and white track called lust
Which was so strong that she tumbled over and over again
Until she hit the ground hard enough to shake of thoughts of survival
Simply because she refused to read the red tall sign that cautioned quietly; STOP

So there she lay, on a bloodied road named Guilt
Dying a death another already did
Trying to pay for a life already paid for
She was what you may call Lost…

If she however would only open her eyes
Unlike Judas she may not fail so woefully at the sight of a possibility: A NEW LIFE
How she doesn’t have to hang from a rope
Because He already hung from a tree…
Endured a Calvary of sorrows
In exchange for her joy
You see, she will no longer be Lost
…or even worse condemned.
 
Because…
Where the sting of death ended was far from where the mark of Christ started
In fact it was non negotiable!
When Him who is Life held the keys to her eternal hell
He chose to set her free.

She must realize…
That like a corpse laid dead for four days
A word spoken from the very lips of creation was able to re-jerk a pulse so cold and far spent
Regenerate a heart so used and wasted
Turn a pot of clay into a vessel of Gold…        
She must choose to realize
That she has only arrived at the CROSSroads
…where Grace and mercy meet.

But first she must open her eyes…

CONTRITE

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contrite

This has to be how Adam felt, after the fall.
Beaten, bruised, dirty and worn.
The feeling of guilt clasped tightly at my neck
The feeling of shame keeping me paralysed on my bed
I can’t even bring myself to pray
What have I done
Again and again I nail Jesus to the cross
His death and resurrection seeming like a loss
The weight of sin bearing down hard on me
So so heavy I fall down
Down on my knees

Give me a second chance, I know I’ll do right
Even though i must have said this like a million times
But what else can I do but run back to Him.
Elohim, Elshaddai, the creator of my skin.
Please listen to my cry, I have nowhere to  hide.
As I find repentance, don’t dash me aside.
I am beaten, I am broken I have no where to go.
Than back to you my God
Please don’t leave me in the cold.

I AM CHRIST

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I saw Christ sometime ago in England
Man was on a well cut designers suit
His cuff links and kerchief suits
The accentuation of the rich fabric soothes
He was slick and sharp looking
Shoes glittered like tiny stars in the heavenlies
A perfect match for his suave manners.

I saw Christ some time ago in Detroit
He was on denim jeans and a large polo
His shoes brought hallelujah to my lips
Casual sneakers with canvas toes cap
With sequin detail and metal stud trim
His watch of course was blings blinking
Perfect for a street preacher

I saw Christ sometime ago in Nigeria
He was on blemish free agbada
Distinctively wide shouldered gown
Flowing in dignity
With each raise of the hand comes style
His cap pointed at the apex with base V-shaped
Perfect for incarnating the spirit into folk’s lives

I met Christ sometime ago in Congo
He was hungry and tired
His stomach was the size of a pregnant lass
His neck was the size of the giraffe’s
Although black his skin was transparent
His large eyes sunken and moist
His hair curly from unkemptness

I am Christ
I wouldn’t join my body with a slut
‘cause that’s breath-choking illegal
I wouldn’t be caught wearing pieces and strands
‘cause that’s heart-wrecking erroneous
Fallacies will be far away from my lips
Swear words, coarse and dirty jokes alike
‘cause my words are life and double edged
I wouldn’t be caught nodding on Drake’s beats
Nor twisting to Beyounce’s tunes
My playlist would have nothing to do with Trey songs
‘cause I live only to glorify God and impact positively.

I am Christ
I live with that consciousness
So I eat like Christ would , silently
I speak like Christ would, deeply
I act like Christ would, graciously
I smile like Christ would, amazingly
I dance like Christ would, stylishly
I preach like Christ would, radically
I love like Christ would, unconditionally
I share in Christ’s suffering , steadfastly

-Nnagbo Chidimma

MY JESUS

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Jesus

Art by Akiane Kramarik

Trying to describe my Jesus is like an attempt to go bonkers
Cos no bunker could ever hope to contain Him
His glory is ever lasting, totally outstanding
You can’t wish to keep Him in a box
He’s a beast
I mean a Lion
I mean a Lamb
The Lion and the Lamb
A description so contradictory and yet so
accurate
For in Him is Love and Mercy
Where I live, move and have my being
Full of a fiery passion as He chased out the
merchants from me
With immense confidence as He commanded the
storm to cease.

My Jesus is big! Even I can’t quantify Him
Is it His goodness or protection? No one can
defy Him
Just make an attempt and try Him
Don’t put Him to test though, the devil couldn’t
fail Him
Let me tell you something about my Jesus then
The Lion
The Lamb
The Lion and the Lamb
The lover and the fighter
The beast and the tamer
The Judge and the advocate
My very own big brother
Not just watching through lenses
He sees my heart and can finish all my
sentences

He is Jesus
The Lion and the Lamb
The mighty man in battle, His alias
same as prince of peace, Son of God, the
Messiah
The word spoken in days of old
The material form of the spoken word
The justification of all of mankinds existence
My Lord and Saviour
He personally died for me
And of course you too can make this claim
You just gotta believe
I mean really believe
Put your heart, mind body and soul into it
Accept Him so that finally,
Your Spirit will live

Onubogu Somtochukwu

STRANGER

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Sometimes it’s so much easier to talk to a total stranger.
To tell someone you’ve never known,
Someone who has never known you or the things you may be going through…
It’s easier to tell your sad, compromised and totally one sided story to someone who has no clue about the real you.
Then again why do you always get surprised,
When the stranger gives you the exact advice you gave yourself?
Funny enough the stranger has only one point of view when it comes to your issue…. Yours!

A stranger will tell you exactly what you heard within you, A mirror of your own SELF.
A prism that bounces back the sharp light of deception that got you into this conversation in the first place.
And the one who cares is watching over you,
Praying that sooner or later you realize that you are sitting in front of a stranger.

He will condemn every one who put you in the misery of contemplating a change for the better,
Sear your conscience to all rebukes and reprimands that left you teary eyed
And tear you away from the warm embrace of correction into his arms of cold and empty…Comfort.

A father chastises the ones he loves, but you’d rather be a bastard than a son,
Because the level of reprimand didn’t equal what you had done,
Trading your birthright for a plate of steaming hot lies that constantly advice you to give this so called “unconditional Love” a think through,
But if only you knew it was a stranger you are talking to.

If you really know that destruction is the end of a path that seemeth right to a man, Then take the costly treasures of correction and move on, Not minding how many tears and falls it took to mould you, The potters perfectionist bid to shape you,
So remain low and endure the process,
The result is always golden and the end product priceless.

– Abokhai Osione