Category: Poems

EVERYDAYJESUS’ ‘Chant’ on power’ (a poem)!

1 Comment

Sup’ with this attitude

All these burn off me

Like the injustice running through the city’s tower

Enclosed in the vacuum called brain

Through the veins and tissues

Hoping these words be applied without issues.

Let’s go higher

This is the will we must seek

Blimey! Be it young, be it old

Like the fire

Let’s maximize this gift, power

For the sky is the destination

For the mind needs elevation

Unto this nation

I plead for freedom

Upon this kingdom I pray for the vision

Let our leaders see wisdom in power

And for the followers to understand the way of power, this hour.

 

For the ways of man is engaged with flaw

He raised himself above the law

Why this war?

The problem we fight daily

Is built in his heart like a wall

Please take these words

For unto him, is this power given

Let him be wise enough

So he could see the light rise

Ahead of the tunnel.

The alchemist… 

Author note: 

I feel the necessity of the right use of power, power is the trait we all have in common, but people are not giving attention to its right use. Get inspired as you read

© Tolulope Amao   

EVERYDAYJESUS’ ‘His witness’ (a poem)!

Leave a comment

In truth, I speak him aloud
In words, I pick his existence
For he is the lamb, the lamp to your feet
For he is also the lion, your pavilion when all seems wrong.

In letters I adore him
Even beyond the latter years
Your tears now his care
Even when the world yells fear
Still he is fair enough
To bear your regret
And call you into his fold.
In sickness, when all hope seems faded
In every disappointment, when the future seems broken
Like a fracture to the brain
O yes! Yes He is with you
To heal your diseases
To reveal carefully that it’s not disappointment
But “this is my appointment”
All for seasons,
And beyond the seasons
Very much Christ
Is alive to give you rest…

He is here!
He is there!
He is with you dear!

Iamthealchemist
2016
Christ’s witness

© Tolulope Amao “Spiritual”

EVERYDAYJESUS’ Sunday! (A poem)

Leave a comment

This is the word spoken on Sunday
When the lame sees him
And their blame is taken away
When we sing the song of redemption
Despite the state of recession
When those who feel wrong of their sins
Now behold him to sing the song
The song of salvation
It all starts on Sunday.
Sunday, the sunny day
That expresses His glory
That those who are holy
Might gather and show him, the gratitude
Sunday, sun now yields to his sons
That his daughters will live in laughter
And voice be raised
Instead of noise
That heart stays broken
Instead of being harden
It is a scene on Sunday
Sunday more than the ray
But evidence of his coming
That Sunday will someday reckon victory
When this fleeting breath is taken
When this hasten heart
Be put to a stop, according to his act
This starts on Sunday.
On Sunday,
Let all heart be subjected
And render praise
Let the mountain be raised
Let the waters be still
Let hope beyond man’s understanding stage
Let his sons, daughters cope
For it is another start
Another chance for us to dance
And grow, glow in him
Till the trumpet sound
Everyone “it’s Sunday”

The alchemist (c) 2016.

Author note:
It is another start, and phase to face. A new hope starts.

EVERYDAYJESUS’ Extremist (a poem)

Leave a comment

Rhyming fanatical
Minding less people’s desire
This is my nature, black and spiritual
For every line so identical
And I’m so desperate to go tactical.
These are the words of an individual
Playing with words, I’m methodical
Let suggestion be raised higher
That am against the law of poetry, not metaphorical
O yes I know, I care to be optional
My mind recommends being optical
And for once be mystical.
This is my arrival
After days of sabbatical
Fighting fear that eats up my words like a cannibal
Until then yields revival to be a survival
Never to be diabolical
Nor be prodigal.
Enemies’ emphasis so radical
Walloping chant going lyrical
Seeking answers.
I prescribe poetic pharmaceuticals
O yes! I’m phenomenal
Not to be egotistical
But an observation, for I choose this lane, I’m being motivational
So exceptional!
The alchemist

Author note:
Inspired by Earl the Pearl work “extremist”

I feel it is right for every poet to be who they are. And to be free like the waters. There should not be restriction to what you can do. We are all different. We possess different style, view and gift, which makes the world a better…

You have to believe in what you can do, and do it right…. everyone is an extremist in their own way…

Be inspired

© Tolulope Amao

EVERYDAYJESUS’ ‘What is life?’ (A poem)

Leave a comment

What is life?
Is life merely about the strife?
Existing to be seen?
To be seen growing?
And too keen on the hour death will appear?
Is life about the days?
The rays of a life time?
Breathing to make a regular cycle?
To be born in the flame of time?
To grow and be tamed?
To be schooled and screwed?
To be a worker then end as a walker?
To get retired and keep on being ‘real tired’?
And to die?

What is life?
It is about,
Living to the full,
Without being ruled by the society,
And without anxiety.
To reckon Christ,
For us to rise,
Beyond all price,
To make a mark that the world can track,
For the everlasting serenity,
Without any inadequacy.
And life is about,
The amazing call
From the “viral” (sin) to the era of which, grace is seen,
About the journey to the world of light,
To stay firmed and affirmed by His word.
And life is about,
The hope we give for the world to cope,
The love we show for the world to stay above,
The peace we find for the world to get.
“Life is exploring the gift within
And not waiting.
Author note:
Life is never about being right, but letting righteousness find its way in us”.

The alchemist…
© 21 days ago, Tolulope Amao

Words For Life. 

Leave a comment

​
I admit it,I am hopelessly vulnerable.

I have grown sentimental,

My sentiments have attached me.

They have made me sensitive…

Sensitive to words.
How do you do it?

What does it take to cough? 

To spew them out with no discretion whatsoever?.. How?

Do they speak to you before you speak them out?
Tell me,

These muses ever so soft 

And delicate to the touch,

How do you make them turn,

Give them spikes, pretty things laced with thorns… bleeding.
I cry for them…

Because they lung to be freed only to heal, 

They mourn because they want to be handled softly, and used sweetly.. Yes…

They are alive.. and they have needs.

If they could, everyday they would scream… Love Me Please!!! So I can love people too.. You see,
I have grown sentimental,

Carefully caressing words, holding them close to my chest.

I have learnt to embrace them warmly, gently…

Rocking them back and forth in my arms as I sing sweet songs and they coo softly. Like doves… 

I have learnt to set them free,

To heal other people just as they have healed me…

#BetterWriterSeries #LifeWords #SetYourWordsOnACourseToSpeakLife #LoveYourArt #LoveWords #WordsThatHeal #InstaPen #InstaWrites 

Quiet Impact

1 Comment
(Dedicated to all those of quiet impact)
 
She dosent talk, she dosent post, she dosent shout.
He comes in, works it and walks out.
No flashlights, no spotlights, yet he’s the light and all dark eyes know.
No celebration of her name, no serenade for her fame, no declaration of her day, only the ovation of spirits, only the recognition of Abba.
No stickers bear his name, no posters carry his face, yet every touched heart knows his hands, every bruised skin knows his balm.
Not loved widely but ever so deeply, she carries the burdens of a hurting generation and the secrets of a battered heart and to her grave will they go with her.
Hoping for the the tiny lens of heaven, for the cameras of Hollywood ever so flashy overlook him.
 
No streets bearing her name, no cult chanting her fame, no frames for generations to know her face, yet purer heart has not this earth seen, a more loving soul this world has never hosted, she gives her best and keeps what’s left, animals call her kind, strangers pray for him, beggars know her name, prisoners remember his song.
His works carry no credits, her works bear no copyright, she just keeps working right and walking right through stony hearts, for she is wright. A flat character in her own story, yet acting round all heart, for an audience of One. She may not make history but she’s already part of His-Story.
 
What is the payment of a pure heart? what is the award for a sacrificial soul? what are the wages for a selfless life? it exists, just not to be found in this world. So he’s looking forward to the city who’s builder is God, from where he derives his citizenship, she’s longing for His recognition, Him for whom she lives and breathes.
 
So ignore the quietness and keep on the impact, and should the world ever take note, carry on all the same, don’t stop here, you cant stop here.

AGAINST ALL ODDS

2 Comments

Since the days I learned to write my ABC’s I have always known that E effortlessly came before the Gs and Hs and with eyes like mocking jays’ ears I watched as this routine set to educate with Greek elements taught me that the Es Extraordinary will always exceed the N’s Normal that the best B-E-S-T only referred to people who constantly applied Basic Excellence to Supersede every Trial that dared believe possible is not a closed universal set with only such elements available but an ever growing individual set only bound by the extent to which we stretch so we stretch till our limits no longer exist we stretch till our breathes cease and we lay hold on eternity as we be physically transformed to who we truly are saints. We stretch cos we are sent.

So Hello Reality,

My name is Godswill Ezeonyeka and I have decided to not be bound by your rules. Trust me, it is not my intent to come off proud or maybe arrogant; but I just can’t fit into the boxes you house me in anymore. You claim the odds are against me that I can never beat this and fitting in seems the best option, but then I would be lost. So what sense does it make when the struggles of my life gets me fighting for my life? Do I live by the sword only to die by its side?

My name is Godswill Ezeonyeka; and don’t be mistaken, this is no identity crisis. I could join ISIS and show you how real this is but Christ is my Choice, it goes way deeper than what eyes see. This is my decision― to leave like Abraham, eat like Daniel, give like Solomon, to preach like Paul; to only appear normal yet be free so you can see that you’ve been barking up the wrong tree. I am certain you do not know who these people are because the last you heard from them is a letter like this as they dared realms unseen; stomping impossibilities. Their lives all but lost.

Yes― you can call me ‘Unreasonable’, but I make Reason able to find roots on solid― Word. God’s words. So I don’t make thoughts of the pains to come if I fail the shame and repercussions I dare to challenge for yet my rod will still stretch out above these waters, my knees will not yield your command, listen I skate on storms and though a giant may charge at me, you will not want to miss the next news headlines “greater is He that lives in me”.

My name is Godswill Ezeonyeka, and I am sorry― No― I do not agree that things go one way. That fate holds all cards to play. That I am helpless. Too many lies. Do you know who I am? The known world was called forth because of me, so don’t tell me of a ‘real world’, I decide which is real― the world my eyes see or the world I see in His eyes. I call the shots, Reality. You owe me, Reality; so pay attention.

My name is Godswill Ezeonyeka, and I may not be as brave, see this is not about a thorough plan. Your fire may burn me, my friends; the King may not stretch his sceptre for my safety, this boiling oil might be the last of me, these walls so thick may not give way to my victory still His faithfulness makes me faith-full ― Yes! No matter the stakes, I stay high on His intoxicating Word no matter what you bring my way, Reality. Hope you are still listening?

Cos I know for a certainty that aside fairy tales, animals can talk, water can stand tall as walls, the sun can take a pause on its journey and hungry lions can get selective with their lunch. Fire can defy the laws of gravity, a valley full of death can rise to become a mighty army and a man can with God as a son speak. So it doesn’t matter what you think, I just want you to know this much

I have chosen to right my perspectives; to redefine my reality

Like others…and others yet would, I have chosen Him over you and me.

I am broken from your rules.

In Jesus I live. True.

 

Yours sincerely…

 

By Ezeonyeka Godswill & Henry ‘Glofame’ Okoli