Tag: 2021

SAVIOURS OF SAVOUR

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I behold the earth
A boiling pot cooking a bland meal.
But why would a tasteless meal be 
Slyly served as sweet sauce?
I behold the earth
A feast turned dirge because happiness faded
Leaving its audience bereft of joy.

But for how long shall we adorn our heads
with turbans of ashes?

Let the saviours of savour arise!
To raise Rabboni’s righteous rod
And shred this pot of gloom,
The servers and their portions
Till the tables that breed stale bread be overturned.

Awake! Let our flavour be as magnet
Drawing men unto Christ
To eat of His flesh and drink of eternal life
To never ending satisfaction
Awake! saviours of savour,
It’s time to season the earth!

– Ayooluwa Olasupo
(Ìmísí)
(c) 2021

Choose Right

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A humming sound from the city beyond
Echoes of love from the promise land
Many be called, would we all respond?
For with gladness, pure joy, He beckons on us.

Redeeming grace through this wilderness
A stretched out arm with all willingness;
To help and to guide, would we leave our pride?
And reach for a grip or would we stoop to die?

Serene Atmosphere through this noisiness
A wind of peace in the chatters of Chaos
A sign post to a narrow gate, would you choose the path?
Or walk right past to your death alone?

Forgiveness trophy over bitter regrets
A resounding confidence it will all be gone,
Remind yourself no more. Would you choose to run?
Far from such past or ride along hate and keep fighting us?

All offers are free, no dime for the price
Good gift to receive, devoid of turpitude
Such pure salvation, would you rather lose your soul?
Or come now to Jesus; accepting the price He paid? 

– Jahzrhythm
©2021

Broken Mirror

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I’m the supposed image of this cool King
Whose words are life eternal

Whose actions are as perfect as the cry of a newborn
Whose plans the whole universe reflect like the moon
Bringing us the afterthoughts of the sun at night.

I’m the supposed life He gave
The assurance that makes men brave
This eyes that look beyond the broken walls of your heart
The perfect stitchery that makes you new

But I fall short like shards of a mirror
I could barely survive the heat of this oven called living
Yes! I crafted my definition of living
Wrapped my gaze on the things I could see outside him
And I became a dead story waiting for his resurrection.

– Symolean
(c) 2021