MOVE

image

Time ticks off, falls flat to crimson curvature with space’s sunset
I look into you to feel free, lay down now at night’s short rest
Wishing it would last forever
So I’m mired in sleep-walking living free frigid spree, spin-spiralled skull
Schooled in conservative cram and crumple, effortless troublesomeness
Life for passer-by, five fingers stuck in cupped-pocket, cut-off chains
Self-made dungeon
Living?

To breathe is, for you, brief misery, soured serenade, multiple invariance
Shriek sharply, shrink shamefacedly, stop to turn away
But I’m calling out still: I love you, please stop staring from that distance…
Freshness breezes in with the relinquishing of safe-stand-style
Dare, and find fairness within, without, above and around
Let love flow freely, let your fear of it fall off, let the thaw be of it, not your heart’s

Love is a move, and the humblest play best
Love is life, everything brings a shade of this truth
Even evenings darkened by bin-spinning dins, singing fateful dirge-like sounds
The absence tells of it, quietly, loudly
The presence is uplifting, gifting enrapturing, enlivening
So let the feet steal the march on fear
The crafter of the galaxies stands less than a breath away
He wants to fly through you
Give you to Him, watch love win, see trembling die, know courage
Live life strong, if calmly, steer home to forever
From a priceless touchdown moment
Now.

HOPE AND THE LONGING

image

I love you, but I can’t tell you so
I’m too proud of my castle, my stick-to-it place
I burn here in summer’s heat, freeze in winter’s chill
But I can’t tell you that I love you
I’m too afraid of love
I’m too afraid I’ll be disappointed
I’m scared it’ll fail

So we are separated
You’ve made me offers, I’ve looked hard at them
They seem sweet at times, tortuous moments later
You are a wonder and a strict blunt plainness
You are beautiful beyond measure
Too beautiful; I cringe and hide from your face, cos its too fair

You make demands I can’t fulfill
You tell me you’re for me, but I must give up first
I have nothing apart from my little castle, my heart’s small corner
Life’s ravages have stolen all else
My disappointments have eaten away at every other field
How can I finally die, just to come alive?

You are my longing, though my mind seldom recognizes this
This fight must end, this weary heart must find rest
So I give in to you nevertheless
If you’ve been this patient, you must truly care as you say
I’ve wanted not to hope
But hoping in you is the only chance I have
To stay alive.

EVERYDAY JESUS…lives in you

Okay, first of all … I am eternal. I would have said ‘we’ but I’ve learnt to be careful about accusing other people of their own immortality… I am eternal, and I have an offer for you.

God has given us himself, not to be hidden on a shelf and dusted off on Sunday but to purify us from death, not to be killed by self but dusted off as sons; day to day, he invites us to say, and know!! Yes …we are eternal.

I want to tell you tales of how I chased tails, and I mean females, but what ails me to spell well about is the fact that we are sleeping walking. While lullabies of ‘May God bless you’ are repeated like broken records, we fix our pupils on the flesh and let men leads us whose lids are shut by pointless efforts of trying to ‘get rich or die trying’. 

I am he who gives you the power to make wealth, says the Lord of Lords.

God has given us himself, not to be hidden on a shelf and dusted off on Sunday but to purify us from death not to be killed by self but dusted off as sons; day to day he invites us to say, and know! Yes… we are eternal.

There was once a rich man whose servants were off in other lands busy with businesses that were to bring their master more wealth. He had provided to reward richly the ones who were most profitable.

But the servants ran their businesses into debt and had to go into slavery to pay their debts. But the rich man had a plan, he told it to one man; and sent hints of it to his servants in slavery…

The son of the rich man was sent to lend a hand to the enslaved servants, but they didn’t recognize him so they grabbed and gave him to their creditor who recognized him and was only too happy to sign the deal.

Now, free, the servants wandered about afraid to return to their master while the son served their sentence in the creditors den…but then, the son of the rich man, like his father, was a business genius and 3 years later, from being a slave, the son took over the creditor’s business.

The servants were all gathered in one place one day when the Son walked up of them. They were afraid, but he calmed them, ‘it was all part of the plan to free you from your creditor and take over the creditors business so he would never enslave you that way again. My father sent me to tell you he’s adopting you as his children. I will be your brother if you accept his invitation.’

The servants were overjoyed, because as children of the rich man they would be entitled to all his wealth. They’d never work another day.

‘No’, the son said, ‘Go into all the world and tell the good news of what my father has done; through me to prove his offer’.

God has given us himself not to be hidden on a shelf and dusted off on Sunday but to purify us from death and not to be killed by self but dusted off as sons day to day He invites us to say , to know, yes… we are eternal.

The simplicity of this analogy leaves me living with one thing left to leave before I leave. I offer you, God offers you the offer to offer your body as a living sacrifice to be joined to him as one spirit… and don’t think like the world wants you to, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind so that you can prove what is that perfect, good and acceptable will of God …who given us the ministry of reconciliation, and all things needed for life and godliness, and all spiritual blessings in heavenly places…

There are no blessings in heaven for you… because, God has given us himself not to be hidden on a shelf and dusted off on Sunday but to purify us from death and not to be killed by self but dusted off as sons day to day he invites us, to say, to know, yes!… we are eternal.

If you accept his offer, you can bless someone today! By saying it, knowing it … remind them, surprise them, say to them, ‘we are eternal’. Because Everyday, Jesus is.

HURT!

I’ve never felt so much pain in my life before
I stood motionless as I watched the dust, the debris rise and fall
My father, my son, my very soul forever lost at the sound of that bomb

There is no more hope
Just pain
Pain I can’t live without
Pain I cannot begin to understand.

I’ve never felt this much anger
My heart beats and pounds against my ribs like a wild beast wary of its cage
The flames glared before me and within yet there was no place for fear
Just raw, lethal anger gnawing at my consciousness
There is no more peace; just anger

Anger I do not wish to quell
Anger not soon to quench
No more wishes, no more hope
No more thinking, no more words
Just this maddening silence
Me and my pen fighting to have it all make sense

My mind is all but lost
My body beyond hurt
My spirit is ignored
I only wish someone could hear me
I only wish someone could save me
I only wish for someone anyone
That could take it all away

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
Isaiah  53:4-5(KJV)

So I saw this on WhatsApp

Take me back to the old Paths, when Moms were at home.
Dads were at work.
Brothers went into the army.
And sisters got married BEFORE having  children!
Crime did not pay; Hard work did;
And people knew the difference.

Moms could cook; Dads would work;
Children would behave…
Husbands were loving; Wives were supportive; and children were polite.

Women wore the dresses; and Men wore the trousers.
Women looked like ladies;Men looked like gentlemen; and children looked decent.

People loved the truth, and hated a lie;
They came to church to get IN, Not to get OUT!

Hymns sounded Godly; Sermons sounded helpful;
Rejoicing sounded normal; and crying sounded sincere.
Cursing was wicked; Drinking was evil; and divorce was unthinkable.

We read the Bible in public; Prayed in school;
And preached from house to house.
To be called a Christian was worth living for;
To be called a traitor was a shame!

Sex was a personal word. Homosexual was an unheard of word, And abortion was an illegal word.

Preachers preached because they had a message; and
Christians rejoiced because they had the VICTORY!

Preachers preached from the Bible;
Singers sang from the heart;
Sinners turned to the Lord to be SAVED!

A new birth meant a new life; Salvation meant a changed life;
Following Christ led to eternal life.

Being a preacher meant you proclaimed the word of God;
Being a deacon meant you would serve the Lord;
Being a Christian meant you would live for Jesus;
And being a sinner meant someone was praying for you!

Laws were based on the Bible;
Homes read the Bible;
And churches taught the Bible.

Preachers were more interested in new converts than new clothes and new cars.

Church was where you found Christians on the Lord’s day, rather than in the park,
on the creek bank, on the golf course, or being entertained somewhere else.

Give me that old time religion!
‘Tis good enough for me!
I still like the “Old Paths” best! Jeremiah 6:16…

#copied.

LIFE IS COMING

image

Shriveled scene scribbled upon canvass is fading
My old model dumped in dustbin died for up-springing of new flowers
The silhouette stuns, stings, drips tears, then raises fears
Atop absorbed focus on the coming sunrise
Life is coming, is coming to roost
Am I ready for the raid of new revolution?

I put away the stained days I spent wailing for your coming
There is spirit in this fizzy feisty fight put up to live, to put death to flight
I once Idled, let cobwebs sweep through those rims
Now, I’m aiming to  scrape dark patches off final dirt stands
I refuse placid existence, tacit collusion with fate, take courage
The collage college is, I accept, not perfection
The pastiche of Purity’s prefecture is ever presently metamorphosing
But now that I’m living, I’ll never let Death come back
Never! Never! Never!

The material as centre is atrophy in the making
Give your all to toys, things and themes, and try time, for fruits
See the project tail off into disappointing void
But I’m alive now, won’t take stop-start for norm
My hope is born again, is brand new, glitters in sunshine, getting brighter

You, Lord, have planted desire where dead sooth chambers once were
Once fearful of living, now becoming fearless of death
The track is thin, but you made me fit in
Put springs in my steps, helped me fight the fight of faith in joy…
Thank you so much!

Today I look through the window, and see hope
The dust covered roofs, rain will wash clean
So I look out, and see clean roofs instead
And smile
Gratefully.

MADE AGAINST NATURE

MADE AGAINST NATURE

The real man is made against nature

First is time, next is dime

Another is personified, Yes! Sophisticated

Forgetting that sometimes, ignorance is bliss

Picking up fruits from Eden

To satisfy the house that is today and gone tomorrow

 

To be or not to be?

Is the question thrown to every man today

Staining to be seen

Rather than abstaining to be glorious

 

The GET-RICH-QUICK-gadget has even flooded the hearts of children

Making them lack nutrients gotten from milk of this ‘era’

With many adults losing faith

Deserting the fact that the trying of faith gives life to patience

Patience which basks in the test of time

Even the time of my first line, the real man

For him, nothing is too late but in due season

Being in the country of Luke of 6:38 street

The currency in his hand aids the fulfillment of his purpose against the tide

Against the time

Against the 70years limit of old age and dim eyes

Against the hurricane that comes with its adage “Tsoon-na-me”

Against what’s far shunned

As a writer, his pen drops

To let the Spirit work

He voice ceases

To let the Spirit visit

Though nature thought of him as a target

Being fashioned by The King

The weapons of destruction were now made for decoration

That he may fulfill his mandate in his hometown .Genesis

Street 1, House 27.