Turns



A lot is cast
Many a times, wisdom proclaims
Life na tumbo tumbo
one way or another
The wheel spins to everyone’s direction
One or two a time

The sages said
“A good turn deserves another”
The owner of ages said
“Do good, even unto your enemies”
One way or another
The wheels spins to everyone’s direction
One or two a time

Games we played
Children in the streets
Home wasn’t far away
And the lessons out there
Didn’t make us fall short
We learnt to understand
The lot will one way or another
Fall on every player
The mix of pride and grief
When the wheel spins to one’s direction

One is the victor
Another the victim
Negotiating the future
To taste the sweetness of revenge
Or the pride of forgiveness
For when the lot is in favour
But before then, don’t tempt the gods
Your fears will betray you
And when the wheels spins
To one or two a time
Be sure to have The Lord as your lot


Pearlythoughtz
© 2022

JUSTICE MUST BE SERVED


They say justice respects no man
Yet he has gotten away with evil
They say the law is blind
Yet I see a criminal walking free

A shadow is cast in the bright sky
The day has turned into night
Twenty four hours reduced I must say
What a mystery it is to behold

The sun has refused to come out
Though another day already begun
The atmosphere, a palpable gloom
So intense for these miserable souls

His victim this time is still in cradle
What has she done, I want to ask
The mother seconds my thoughts
So many others too I must confess

But Like before, I saw him escape again
Leaving in his wake his misery
But when will justice be served?
To this murderer who seeks his next victim?


And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death.
Revelation 20:14



AJEGBOMOGUN OLUFUNKE
© 2022

Change



I like people and how they change, It reminds me of home. Of how one person won’t make it to Christmas next year, and forever. How this might be the last time I’ll tell aunty Chinenye that she’s my favorite. That her hair is beautiful and her smile is radiant. That being the only person in the family with dimples must mean that she was special. That I’ll come for holidays when she got married. That I love her. Before I run away with the plate of corn and _úbé_ she roasted for me to show my mummy.



New people remind me of old people. Of the promises of forever that lasted till worth became what my worth was never. “See finish” is myopic. It assumes that who I met today is better than someone I’ve known for many years. Forgive me for being old fashioned but I believe that the years matter. If our bubble lasts a year, then we have beaten time and seasons that I’ll cherish again and again. Because while people change, you’ve changed and I’ve changed, but somehow we haven’t changed enough to no longer feel the other is less their worth. I have a habit of remembrance. Of beginnings.



I like taking strolls. A slow walk down memory lanes. I like seeing how first hello and hi morphed into not being able to do without. I like change. It has never scared me. That’s why I am never afraid of death. How people leave without a word’s notice. How they change. From being there to being mute. How someone who would kill if you shed a tear will lie there and sleep through your million wails. Tears changes people. Maybe the saline fluid washes a part of ourselves with it when it falls. When we clean it, we don’t just clean it. We erase something too. A trust, a love, a care, a joy, a part of us.



People change but I don’t blame them. I’ve heard people say the stories of their journeys. It’s why I want to make movies. So many untold stories. We judge too hastily for people with the ability to cry so much. And we hold grudges for people that fall short so much. I never got to visit aunty Chinenye because she never got married. Mummy will never see my wife, daddy too, with his funny mustache and remarks. Aunty Faustina will not make good on her threat to tell the woman that I’m stubborn on my wedding day. They all changed. Just like people do. They fell like flowers plucked from life’s petal, to wither on dusty earth. So go ahead dear, change all you want, I’m used to it.


Uc Truth
(C) 2022

A LETTER TO MY OLD RUGGED CROSS

Dear old rugged cross
Blessed are you among wood and timber
Because on you rested the greatest sacrifice ever
On that night at Golgotha
On you was my Jesus crucified
And now I stand justified
Before the God of my salvation and life

Dear old rugged cross
It hurts to tell you that many are lost
And those who remain cling to a civilised cross
They have forsaken the ancient landmark
While on a self-satisfaction task
Ignorantly falling to damnation on a fast track

Yes you may have seen some violence
But not as much as there is in my presence
For the love of men wax cold
And iniquity is in abundance
The time of true faith fades away
And religion, false belief finds its way
And unfortunately, the Christians refuse to take their place

I must confess you are quite heavy
And I might stumble and fall on this journey
But all my cares on Jesus I lay
Dear old rugged cross
On you, I sacrifice all my flaws
As I wait for my Lord’s applause

Yours sincerely,
The Young Believer


Ezeonyeka Godswill
(C) 2011

Let Me Judge


Let me be your judge
Shhh…. don’t freak out
I’m not here to condemn
I want to reconcile

Two different time zones
In one space
This spaceship ain’t moving at all
Can’t you see?

It’s been a circus
A bit forward at a particular time frame
Then comes a reminder of how much today owes yesterday

Let me be your judge
Let me free you
Says the lamb that rejected not the abattoir
Why the tour?
Come closer
I mean much closer
For my yoke is easier

I know your past
Let me be the one to state if you stand condemned or not, let me be the judge.

Yesterday is in the past
What matters is today
Let me hug away that feeling that makes you think yesterday can stop today

Let me be your friend
Let me in
Let me be you
Be your all

Ebube
©2022

ONESIMUS

That you might receive him forever, no longer as a slave—a beloved brother… Philemon 1: 15-16

I’m a fugitive fleeing from punishment
A slave mortgaging with my destiny
Transecting my soul with transgression

A man finds me whose father
sentenced to death two thousand years ago
Says his name is Grace and he won’t let me go


Wraps warm hands around me
till his love fills me to overflow
Like rainwater filling a cistern

I died“, he says but now I live forever
And if you let me, I can wipe away your past too, forever.”

Ayooluwa Olasupo Ìmísí
©2021

Wheat

I have never seen Everson but my brother he is
And he’ll never sin on my scene, never bother with it
Young Charles and the step-fam would be arguing things
But they tried to eat and clean mouth so forked in our things
UC typing with no network
Cast your words and let’s work
Electrifying verses versus, we wrote culture shock
That reminds of Godswill on the LinkedIn thought
When I write nowadays
I’m Kendrick in my brain
When I’m emotional, I’m Drake
I give UC catarrh like Wayne
I should learn to edit
Ed, Edd and Edit
Today I was writing slower, with no beat when I read it
And yet I found no timing like I used to back ’13
I feel the neck of Nonso pendulum-ing in reprimand
I read my counterparts and there’s no doubting, I understand.
No buts about this, discipline, I need to robot; Oh God, the speed is messing with the taste of the yogurt.
Uh
I’ve known the height and yet the might was not the way I reached it
No poltergeist, I’m hunting light and all the ways to reach it
Beyond delight, in day or night, I sought to not be rigid
To please the wise and, like a kite, be gliding high in reason
Back
To
Work
One week of intermittent prayer
Constant in the fact that you will see me there
No foul play, I am not a Layer
The season is for harvest so I’m switching gear
Trousers and Head gears
These were the past cares
And don’t get me started on a vaccines being scares
Plans of the antichrist, I’m laughing past tears
I thought of saying it earlier on my family group
But they’ll call me disrespectful and I’m getting in soup
As long as souls are told the gospel, I am cool with the loop
Light is always gonna win, when it’s dark imma stoop
Make dem no go use me shine, “Sorry” no be control-z
I’ll be studying all that time, Me and Mine be on the beat.
We’ll be praying and researching, from the back to front row seats
Then I’m studio-ing it all, yeah it’s QuChi and the Wheat!!!

Niel
©2021

Dawsk


How do I merge this two?
How do I correlate light and darkness?
Do I do away with the brightness of daylight or bask in vague thoughts of nothingness?
Should I?
Could I?
Will these sooted thoughts fetch me the spark needed to light up my world or
Merely scratch on the surface of my fears as the sun would the ocean at dusk and have me foiled?
Curled up, awake, in the stillness of the night is how I find peace.
Sitting, underneath starry skies is how I brood courage to face the streets in one piece.
Like parallel lines in harmony I see the dawsk start and finish up each other’s tune,
With little or no care if I blend in,
Saturating my words with a soothing tone.
But like black and white has different shades in expression
I am learning to grey up the dark spots of imperfection and
Whiten up the milky paths of uncertainties with rays of light.
Each day and night
Through rolling tears or stretched lips in spite…
In an endless dawn to dusk carousel,
I’ll stand,
Strong,
In between,
Tiring and trying,
Tiring and trying,
In my little caravel
Till I find my balance at dawn

Imani Dokubo
©2021