Man With The Mic

January 17, 2022January 17, 2022Leave a comment

I fear for the man with the microphone
He must speak that which was spoken to him
But does he listen only to speak to the crowd
Can he listen enough to listen while he speaks

I wonder at the woman with the microphone
Laid out in beautiful worship before her Lord
Does her feet still know the grounds of this world
Will this dance of transcendence translate or transform

I fear and I wonder at the man I could be
Microphone in hand, driven by more than I can transmit
I pray that my eyes and heart never know another Lord
That I never be left on my own with a microphone

I wonder at the people we will be, microphone in hand
Telling of his love, revealing to all what they need to hear
More than words we can describe yet we raise a sound
So I pray with the microphone in our hands only Him will be heard

Ezeonyeka Godswill
Oraegbu Philipa
(c) 2022

God Sightings

January 15, 2022Leave a comment

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

Yesterday on Holy Fun Stuff I neglected to mention that Nonso John hid a particular trick throughout his freestyle entry. He hid the titles of movies that Arnold Schwarzzenegger has been throughout the poem. Movies like Terminator and Expendables…

As for today’s session…

Itt happened on a Tuesday (April 5th 2021). Now, sometimes,writers don’t wait till the “write time” to write. Some days, a picture is enough to wake up the drama. So, on tuesday, at 9:53pm, Uba wrote:

Ok, so for me it was the amount of talent that I found in the group. Now not to say that I did not know that there will be this abundance of talented writers but the fact that there was this spontaneity about how different pieces were being written and how dynamic the pieces were, they were not your regular pieces they were just so creative. I mean listening to Niel’s Bibles are selfies, the first one or Nnanna’s Silence and just looking at everybody in the group and how dynamic we all are the way we were just amazing in our different ways. I was surprised and I just knew that I was at the right place, deep down inside of me that I was at the right place, a place where I could grow, a place where I could get better, a place where I would grow effectively in writing, I’m grateful, thank you very much sir.

Ok, yeah, that is not really poetry. But I thought you should see it. I still regret that there is no video of me from before Bibles are selfies, but I am so grateful to God for all the work he has seen us through, over the years.

And 43 minutes later, here is Hanna Azubuike with a piece of her beautiful mind:

I don’t know if she was the one you were busy chatting with while I hoped you’d propose to me.
Now I’ve seen her, she’s everything you wanted and more
She does the magazine like a soldier stuck to her guns
She’s never late
Pauses on purpose to accurately release her words like bullets to hit her target
Imani’s powder got nothing on her
Hers is gun powder that brighten the eyes of her ‘victims’

time to shoot your shot

Okay, for a bit of a background: Christapoet has a monthly magazine that is managed and edited by Imani. So on this particular day, something made everyone get in a grateful spirit. Maybe it was Godswill who said something or maybe it was Imani, but either way, it sparked these poems, about Imani. Hanna is talking to Uba about choosing Imani over her. I think she kids. But at 10:56, Eremi had this to say about Imani:

Imani, of bright smile
And of starry eyes
Imani of sweet words, a sweeter heart and a soothing voice
Imani of great strength
And an even greater determination
Imani, the one that oversees the seas of contents’ flow
Imani, my beloved
I knew we had some things in common
Alphabets were the least I would have stood on
Well, the alphabet makes words don’t they?
And Words make worlds, don’t they?
We work wonders when we write, don’t we?
Imani my very great friend
I hail from this end

Yes yes, Imani is incredible.

And that was the extent of that day’s freestyling. Long ago, before the advent of freestyling, these poets would claim not to be able to make such freely comments in this style. But that is one of the goals of the freestyling: Growth, confidence.

The next day,I was itching to write so at 4:31pm, I did:

From God is love to God is Killer
From eternal salvation to the 10 plague giver
From God who answers faith to God of the sweaty prayer
From God who forgave sin to Ananias and Sapphira

So which is Witch – The deceiver or the misled?
Sometimes I jot with a pencil because I miss lead,
But also so I erase it when I have gained sense;
But there are things that are written in blood like Christ’s death

I forgot that if I don’t do my own research
There’ll be people telling me that I won’t resurrect
Far be it from me to drink it hook, line and sinker
Even Christ didn’t, and I’m his doppelganger
I’ve been living on his rhema like another banger
And I won’t miss the message for any interpreter

…and at 5:56pm…

Watch and pray my Bro the temptations are plenty plenty
I told my girl no fornication until we are married
If I was dodging meat for people I’d be vegetarian
Truth is truth whether or not its from foe or friend
That’s…

…and at 8:02pm… I wonder what it was that I was doing at the time:

The Love of God is very constant
No doctrine can change that
I didn’t deserve it before he gave Christ
I didn’t sow a seed to reap Christ

But that was all before the 9th…when we wrote on Holy Fun Stuff.

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Eremi
Niel Quchi
Uba
Hanna Azubuike

Holy Fun Stuff

January 14, 20221 Comment

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

On this particular day, April 9th 2021, freestyles started at 4:00 PM, under the topic “Holy”. I think it’s important to note that the writers and Editors of CAP are mostly working class people. Some of us attended the same university and know each other’s styles and historical progressions. And now we have each grown to take up deeper levels of our careers and deeper bonds with each other’s writing.

I kicked off the session at 4pm with this:

Busy Friday, up for air like I was diving
Made in Heaven and I am chosen like Joe Biden
God
Taught my hands to war and gave me tools for thriving
That’s how God do, I cannot be shy too

Yes he said he would do it
And I’m trusting him through it
All I needed was light, when I saw it I knew it
Old and dead was I, but His Word is renewing
He gave me Life after Earth, and the power for during

Set apart now, yes, you can call me Holy
Kingdom focused like a soldier when I tell his story
P
I’m past tense, and now I’m comfy with evangelism
And I don’t wait for Easter to tell the world Christ is reason

Okay, so there are times and seasons that Sitz im Leben these sessions. For example, this set is from the Easter period of 2021. A lot of times, some of us would simply draw lyrics from the context, and transpose that with the topic at hand. But some us, like me, would ignore the topic mostly or adhere entirely to it. This brings us to the next freestyle.

Nonso John, in my opinion, can’t be said to really be freestyling. He’s too practiced for that. He would write, edit, restructure, all that. At the end, his freestyles would be…

Just check this out; coming in at 6 minutes after 5pm, Nonso John :

I’m human.
Trust me, I am.
I wear my pants one leg at a time.
And, believe it or not.
I cry. I fall. Yes, I even fart.
Ew.

Sometimes I feel worthless.
Like collateral damage. Expendable.
But, come on. All said and done.
We all know an Old Shot’s a Nigger.
Once every day; twice on Sundays.

Barbarians and Predators
See them threaten to Terminate us.
But as imperfect as we are,
Our God don’t use no erasers.

Perfection is not me.
I’ve never claimed it.
But, He who called me?
Come on. Dude’s on Fleek.
Faithful. Holy.

For me, the level of perfection, is a mixture of annoying and intimidating. But that’s our Nonso John. And he was probably trying to stay simple the whole time. Either way, I, The Niel Quchi, continued the spree at 8:01pm:

I’ve
Long time been a faith fool
Grateful being saved, Dude
Living dead like Voodoo
But I’m just a branch he bears fruit through

And I fall sometimes just like the price of things
When i don’t recall the price of him
But he’s faithful as he’s always been
But he’s faithful as he’s always been

Amen. Very brief and to the point; but then, I wouldn’t say that this followed the topic. Xhika came up next… I forgot that this is not WhatsApp. So, in Christapoet, there is a lady known as Chika St. Davnique. I have to restrain myself from telling you her nickname within CaP. I spell her name with an ‘X’ where the ‘C’ is. Here is St. Davnique at 8:48pm:

I’ve not known many things
The result being many thorns
Many torns
Many turns

The world isn’t ideal you see,
We sea-saw every now,
Again,
Between here and hiding
Between there and finding.

And aren’t we all fake fools?
Confessing ideals but rooted in our reels
Our reals
Our ins
Our inch shallow depths

Aren’t we?
Hoping to high heavens that a faith full God stays real.

Stays reeled in
Riveted on showing us what’s real in us.
Even if we never find real in us.

I’ve not known many things,
But I’ve known Him to be true.
To be ALL, absent none,
Faithful and holy.

Yeah, a testimony of her experience of God’s holiness. Though I feel it is kind of normal to attribute holiness to God, in comparison to poetizing the concept in and of itself. But truly, what better description of Holiness is there than Yahweh himself. I came through again at a minute after 9pm. I remember I was walking to Mindsmith’s house as I wrote this…Yeah, I like to walk and write:

I passed by a guard sitting unguarded;
Who starts life without the One whence life started?
Giving birth in a trance don’t make you transparent
Saying “Apparently” won’t make you a parent
But I think the ball is passed
Textbook poetry is fast
Four lines the structure
If it was on Twitter, who’d follow Instructions

And next was the very beautiful Zoe Ziva. I think Zoe should be at least a year old in CaP by the time of this article. Here she goes, on “Holy”, nine minutes later, at 9:10pm:

First created as dust, with the gene of him who failed, I looked at myself as worthless and the least of righteous like, even if I tried my best to be the “most righteous” it was like a filthy rag?
I gave up!

But before I was through, He tapped me and said He’ll rather be the One to give up His life just so I can be recreated no longer by dust but by Breath(The Spirit)

And He did.
On the cross He whispered “It is Finished”

So there! I was created a new being and Gene, no longer traced to dust but now to The One who recreated me.

So when the devil tried to deceive me telling me I’m not worth it and good enough,
He tapped me to remind me; and all I could hear was:

Faithful, Holy.

I like that her poem spurt was inherently evangelische. I was writing all the whole, in the background, still walking. So at 9:26pm, I wrote:

Up the hill to Smith’s I walk
NEPA’s taken light ofcourse
But i won’t call them unfaithful
Because they get no faith from us

I have found I have tailor my ways
So that nothing takes the time I need for giving him praise
Can you just imagine who was giving us chase
He whose words freestyled ants and milky ways

Would you look at that?! Beautiful right? And at 9:50pm, Eremi struck the last chord of the day:

Yesterday was quite cloudy
It felt like the travelling rain
Decided to stop at my terrain to greet
But it didn’t
Flashes of lightning like swords fight pushed though the thick black clouds
It was an intentional scare I thought
And my thoughts slept with me

Now I’m thinking about it
How is a God whose voice is louder than the thunder speak so softly
That you could hear distinctly in stillness?
I remembered a time
I also wondered what lights really is
You know
Stepping into that flash of light as in the lightning
Light in light?
No shadow of turning?
How is that even possible?
How will light so fill a place
That it will cast no shadow

Hold it! What could Holy mean?
All white, flurry, smells like sweets?
Holy!
Set apart!
Yes, I later learnt what it meant
Separated for the divine
Who is actually The Vine
The one from whom we got our alias – the Branches

I was told that the Vine isn’t just a fruit tree
That it’s a tree that creeps
Better put infiltrate
It takes over
Just give it time
It’s so beautiful that after it’s done with the host
All you can see is vine
Branches faithful to the course
Actually bring forth the fruits
Occupy till I come
For you are a chosen generation
A holy priesthood
They are the ones
That become the Light in the light
The ones that there is also found no shadow of turning
God is light, in Him there’s no darkness
You are of God Little Children
The glory of the vine had made us one
As they are one
Abiding in Him as He is in the Father

How did I start this gist?
I hope it still rains today
Who knows it could make me think of another gist tomorrow.

And that concluded a beautiful session of really nice pieces. What do you think of each poem?

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Zoe Ziva
Chika St. Davnique
Eremi
Nonso John
Neil Quchi

The 2nd month of April

January 13, 2022January 13, 2022Leave a comment

To the one
Who was still forgiving sins
While hooked on the cross
By the nails of those whose eyes were veiled
Too blinded by their deeds
They could not see the grief
For the fulfillment of what’s to be
He said nothing against them
And for their salvation
He pleaded
‘Father Forgive them
They do not know what they do’~
Love’s perfect excuse

To the one whose death
Not only caused an earthquake
But struck death with a deathblow
Cracking the graves open
So life floods the veins of the dead
And breath, their nostrils
If only death knew
There’d be a prison break
He’d have opposed the crucifixion
But how would they know
They were blinded by their deeds
They could not see the grief

To the one whom hell couldn’t hold
Because he was too hot for the heat
Too strong to be pull down
For 3 days Hell saw Hell in Hell
Its principals displayed in shame
The Lord of the Worlds
Went to the lows with His judgement
To take back
What man lost
And to give ’em a taste
Of what His offsprings will do

To the resurrected one
who has reconciled humanity and divinity
Our eternal link to eternity
And our surety for divine royalty
Our High Priest
The one
Whose coming brought hope
Whose death brought redemption
Whose resurrection brought victory
Whose ascension brought the Holy Ghost
And when He comes again
It will be to take His own

To our resurrected King and Priest
The effulgence of God the Father
One with the Holy Spirit
To Jesus our Lord
Be the glory forever. Amen

That was a long poem. It feels like when you go to visit a rich or older person and You are planning to stay for a little while but the truth is that they determine how long you will actually stay. So you sit and enjoy their luxurious habitat. The piece also felt like a prayer. Next up, at 11:56am, Godswill must have lifted his head and saw the time and decided to jump in:

It is weird that bad can really mean good in this world
But we are shocked when power adorns humble clothes
In a generation hell bent on self gratification
It comes as heresy to think that self sacrificing is key to satisfaction

Enter Easter

The makers melodramatic response to man’s malady
Helpless, lifeless body of a condemned man on a cross
The picture of a sovereign God-king winning wars unknown
Victory did not look like they expected but he was never working with their standards

And that is Godswill for you. He likes to be thoughtful. He is Christapoet’s founder and a great friend of mine. Speaking of me, I wrote next, mixing English with a bit of pidgin English. “nielquchi” at 12:09:

Been a while since I freestyle wrote
Inspiration never left me though
People always want a new dish
Yet their hunger never changes

Been at home trying to plan ahead
I speak life in my charger head
And my plugs let me owe or buy ahead
I think Grace has gotten to my head

And Shalom told me ’bout a waist problem
I showed her power wey dey waste problem
Issues up, I speak a way through them
Blessings rush ya, no be Putin

Ok, so I can be very… starry eyed, when I write. I just let go and let the words flow, even when I am given a topic. But no need to be defensive. Next up at 12:44pm, was Godswill again. This time, he wrote using my style. That conversational tone…check it out:

Daniel made me think of authority
Told my mind there is a place to reach with my dexterity
Yet I am reminded that freestyles are fun when I read Daniel’s piece

Here is to the skilled master hand
We write to preach, inform and understand
That’s like a swordsman is with his blade
We freely wield words with authority no one gave

So much fun!! And that’s that freestyle spirit. When you are so practiced with a skill that you can play with it. Well, I didn’t see his spurt till much later in the day. And when I did, I wondered why no one had replied. I wrote next, at 4:21pm:

Calm down
We are soldiers. Soldiers, calm yourselves and read the battle.
The world is so designed to take your guns and kill your mettle
To freeze your fingers, make you deaf to simple calls of duty
And I’m no captain but I took the oath and know the beauty

What’s a devil to a son,
Or an ailment to a shot of Holy Ghost power screaming “You are Healed”? Oh Lord!
What’s a heart before the Word, or snakes and scorpions creepy-crawlies sneaking through my affairs? Oh Lord!

Calm down
We are monsters; Morning Stars risen from a night of lifetimes…
The times and trends may shuffle but My King never lies.
Yes I bathe in glory and I count my points in won souls
When they saw my dreads in heaven, Jesus said, “I told you!”

What’s power to the Abba, or tycoon to a typhoon?
Jonah told me when you’re drowning, even fish are friends too
What’s depression or despair to the Spirit-led
We are pencils in his hand, mine is spirit lead

I almost want to take screenshots of the group’s reactions to some of these pieces, but I will leave it to you to show us how pleased you are. Kindly leave us a comment and like and share also, so that your people can be blessed in enjoying Christapoet freestyles.

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Eremi
Ezeonyeka Godswill
Neil Quchi

A Life that Counts

January 12, 2022Leave a comment

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of the a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

Now, some days find Christapoet writers just freestyling without prompt or occasion. I called the poems from such occasions “spurts” a long time ago, and so it has been. On this day, another March day, the topic had been given the day before which had been a Friday. But there had been silence…until Ini Brown wrote at 7:42am on Saturday:

for a life to count, it must know it’s worth
so what are you worth?
is it what you own
your abilities, the very skills you hone
is it you personality, that subtle drive or extraordinary flair.
the way you could make sunken hearts feel lighter than air.
is it your personality you hold above
or the fact that your account has more figures than your body curve.
i believe that the worth of a thing is how much it is willing to be paid for
and that Christ gave his life when mine was what to be paid for.
I guess all I’m saying is, know your worth.

Now, Saturdays are kinda busy and a lot of times, there is no time to check what has been happening. I came online the next day, at 2:47 pm, I wrote:

So arranged it’s lyrical teeth,
Byte me tell me which app pulled this
Off like the fruit of knowing which
Is good or evil
Me I’m simple
Trained to battle
Biro mantle
And everybody can return and that is the force of folly if not fully first planned.

Now Fink!

Wazzdat

Yesterday I checked my spotify stats
Numbers made me love this exodus that
Started with a song I sang on red night
Life is no exam but complainers read light

Rice and stew is Sunday food, once I lacked and wished I could go back to the days of ten marks but my life has moved.
Who are you, they asked me too; when I tried to tell em “shoo”. Who it fits should wear the shoe but the truth is someone paid for you.

Shooo?

Rest is left to write this
Someone had to hear this
If the first evangelists were like me would I write this?
Those red lines they blew me
Burnt up my apathy

I stopped a while to see if anyone would write something but this was not that kinda day. So at 3:58 PM on the same day, I wrote again:

Teach us to number our days
I counted on the wrong things
Gone they soon were North wind
Angel told me to send applications
But I only got those they sent me
Smiles on the babies I babied
Sweat off the mothers I helped out
In Christ I am Superman
That’s that super mega upgrade
Warn a bros with the gospel
That’s me being legendary
DC made holy charges
But salvation’s still free
We’re dying from our birthday next day might be death day let’s say it’s a party God’s will is that all fed welfare based on Christ being in here not the atmosphere
Preaching is my service though I won the game
Net study plenty, you should do the same
I am God’s finger and my lips paint
Christ crucified and buried and raised
A life that counts is measured by those who gained
But God better be counting or what else is vain?
And that was it. Or so I thought. It appears that there are some days when my people look at the spurts and poems and decide to join in.

A few days, on the 11th at 3:13 PM, Hanna Azubuike wrote. Now, ordinarily, I would count it as a addressing a different topic or matter, but I will let you be the judge of that. She titled the piece “Wrong Address”

Death came knocking at our door
We said it was the wrong address
We said those hoodlums from hell lost their map again
He inquired about our payment
We gave him Christ’s blood
He did an inspection round our fence for a broken edge
He found a carved bronze snake in it’s place
Death was furious
It’s the second time he’s here for this same body
But he always came on April fool’s day,
We told him we could not help him
No matter how he tries to come early,
Abba always has his April’s trick on him
No matter how, the description seems familiar
Wrong was our address

Nice right? Do you think it spoke on “a life that counts?

Authors:

Niel Quchi

Hanna Azubuike

In Brown

What to pray about

January 11, 2022January 11, 2022Leave a comment

On this particular day, March the 26th, 2021; the topic was “What to pray about”. There was silence in the large Christapoet group, apart from my own prattling about the topic of the day and my reason for choosing it. This sort of silence is kinda normal. But at 8:28pm… Hanna Azubuike wrote:

Pray about your heart to God
Pray about your art to God
Pray about your mine to God
Pray about your gold to God
Pray about your genes to God
Pray about your offspring to God
There would always be a reason, so pray without ceasing

And at 8:35pm, UC Truth retorted:

Pray your desires
My teacher once said
When you feel it you probably should say it
To God

So I come bare when I pray
When I pray I come bare
Stripped of all what God should not hear
I come with screams and silent
I come with words and rhymes like a poet
I come with sobs too
And mutters too

I’ve prayed about the mansions and the gutters too

I don’t know what you know about what to do when you come to pray
But I’ll never want to keep from God
An atom of what I really wanted to say to him today

Yeah. The two of them wrote from somewhere real. You see, sometimes, a topic touches you or reflects your current dilemma or just provides an opportunity for you to say something…

Like what Olufunke Ajegbomogun said at 8:44pm.

We don’t want to bother God
Says man made of mud
So we bottle up what we ought not
Leaving our mind in knots
You receive not for you ask not
“What to pray about,” You say?
All things my brother, so you don’t become a prey
Everything my sister, on every blessed day
So Unfriend anxiety
Cast away it’s ray
Put on Christ’s piety
Your armour of faith
Whatever it is
Grand or small
Possible or impossible
Serious or minor
Pray about them all
Yes! In all things by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving…
So go on your knees
Lift up those hands
Put your hands together
Lie down flat on your tummy
Stand on your feet
Sit on the floor
Whichever position you choose, just shut out the noise
Surrender all
Cast it to God
Receive His rod
Believe it’s done
Make a loud noise
Wait till it comes

Some of these pieces and sessions, I remember like…an old friend. Some are like a stranger that has been sent to instruct me. I didn’t write anything, nor did anyone else, that night. It was all like a long whisper telling us “what to pray about”.

Authors:
Hanna Azubuike
UC Truth
Olufunke Ajegbomogun

The Three Abstractions

December 4, 2021Leave a comment

Time like air is boundless, existing independent of us
Helping us take note, employing us
To nurture after our to-do-list
Yet reminding us the risk
of not being
of not seeing
The thought of it as illusion only makes bold the impact on our vision
An endless circle
Old enough to seal life’s chronicles
Yet does nothing to change it
The only certified entity to bridge it.

Love like the sea, is deep
Accommodating everything cold
and warm-blooded
Not seeking its own way
Needs nothing external to become
Countless questions on its existence
Unending thoughts on its purpose
And like the absence of peace
Making monsters of those who go by without it
The true essence of its fragrance waiting always on those who have gone past feeling
to becoming love.

Death, what happens when you’re busy making other plans
Claiming more lives with its rude interruption
The least talked about of all three
Yet with each blow comes a string of thought on time and love
Each seized breath a trail of shadows to your canvas
With more questions than answers
How much time is left?
Is love evident?
What next after death?