Proof

December 22, 2025December 19, 2025Leave a comment

Your mercy still stand even when life shake me like generator wey no get fuel and when storm raise voice like market women, Your peace calm am, even JBL speakers no loud reach this truth.

I don waka inside fire, yet Your grace na the forth man for that furnace. Blessings wey full my hand, na only your fingerprint fit produce am.

My past be wan dey try drag me back like conductor wey no get change, but the cross sharpaly calm am down.

As your nails write my freedom na so your blood sign am like court truth. For heaven courtroom, Jesus stand gidigba which living proof reach that one Abeg

Him love no dey reduce; na so every trial dey shrink like cloth wey see hot water. Even when darkness wan argue, Your light flash am like police for check point, proof wey no dey whine.

When fear dey whisper like thief for backyard, Your Word shout “who goes you!” back.

I dey wake every day because Your covenant cover me like aluminium zinc for rainy roof. And my life? The testimony loud gan, na megaphone wey go always shout: God’s love go always be the final proof.

UbdaPoet
©2025

Change

November 23, 2022Leave a comment

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

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?

Imani Dokubo
©2021

Christ Is The Prize

May 18, 2021May 21, 2021Leave a comment

…seek first God’s kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

…do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

But you already knew that
I might need a coolant
I have to go editing even when my freestyling is witty
My Lady friends like to act like they don’t wanna kiss me
Claiming that they miss me
But they hardly aim time at me
I just miss them back, very simply.

Back to the basics,
Still here trying to make it
They say the boy is harsh but he just tryna sow seeds
Early morning edits
Working while in parties
And all the while I only wasn’t broke when I was saving
And one day I’ll be having enough
To not care for a single account
But right now I’ll be praying the Lord
My options are to whine or to shout
I just want to be part of the cast
An actor or the cameraman,
Let my script be the gospel alight
A wordman from the back of the mic

Fried Rice is boiled
French fries Nigerian
So when I got saved I didn’t change my name
Just add “in Christ” and read the Bible like the rules to a game
Step out the boat
And if I fail to float
I’ll be taking notes
For the future blokes
And their future clothes
Is the future close?
I don’t even know
But I walk and go
One step to go

Thank You UC
I see what you see
The truth is investments help you tolerate and flushit
I always dare to ask myself “Niel, what’s important?”
And then I don’t do that, it’s kinda like zoom out
Where I take stock of the stock fishes that I didn’t throw the hook at
But I can’t help fretting till I eat the Word
And trouble just makes me wanna pray to God
I used to yab those who would ask for more
But now the price of onions got me insecure
My favorite boss said my work was disappointing
I just fell asleep, woke up and rewrote it
I get tired when it’s time to work, and even rough play feels like a job
And I just wanna set up a shop
Profits and knocks, service and love
But the walk is on
One more step to go

Niel Quchi
(C) 2020

February 19, 2021March 10, 2021Leave a comment

Patching leaks only make your scars visible. A total change is what Christ offers.
Imani Dokubo

Lovesick

November 14, 2020Leave a comment

When I was born
I knew not love begot me
Though I journey through life
Unsatisfied even as I live
Until I journeyed a great distance
I came to the cross

Love change my story
No need to say goodbye or sorry
With fitful glimmer burnt my flesh
His Flame of love consume me
Jolted within me as a sweet
And holy madness
Flowed from my lips
Like a molten gold

My heart fit to break
For the Sinner’s sake
That in this state Christ died for
Even as Love seeks
Can’t be quiet have become lovesick.

David Gospel
© 2020

And Grace Found Me

October 28, 2020October 28, 2020Leave a comment

And grace found me at the foot of the steps where I stumbled
He led me into a reverie of affections
And taught me how to make love with my emotions

And Grace found me picking doubt from my rag toothed skeleton
He asked me how I’d survived without the love of Christ
In the oxygen depleted pond of atheism

And Grace found me remunerating inside the tunnel of avarice
For the love of money is the stem that upholds deception
Broken dry Reed called Egypt that can’t be any souls trust

And Grace found me lingering about the field of blood
Waiting to retrieve the thirty pieces of silver
Instead of shouting maranatha with the 120 in the upper room

And Grace found me in the valley of mundane things
Brazilian hair, iPhone 6x, faultless make up, designer dresses
And all those cravings that sounds strange to Holy Mary

And Grace found me yet he wasn’t judgmental
He asked me why I was still babbling in unknown tongues
Instead of fellowshipping with the Holy Spirit

And Grace found me with the gift of a clean shave
Got rid of my eagle-feathered hair and bird claw nails
It’s been seven millennia wandering in the field of unbelief
I’d never imagined going through such quick transformation
Like Joseph’s speedy status change
Until I was discovered by Grace

NOT A WARNING SIGN

August 24, 2020September 7, 20201 Comment

Numbers 26:10 (MSG) The Earth opened its jaw and swallowed them along with Korah’s gang who died when the fire ate them up, all 250 of them. After all these years, they’re still a warning sign.

In Numbers 16, we see people in positions of leadership use their influence wrongly to rebel and cause others to rebel which eventually cost them their lives. Until tomorrow, they will be referred to as bad eggs regardless the good they had done in the past. It takes time to build a reputation, but one day is enough for one wind of error to rubbish all that you have built.

One thing rebellion does is portray a man as a warning sign. Yes! I want to be a sign but not one that draws caution into the ears of men. I can’t afford to be a warning sign.

I am not saying we can’t make mistakes, no. But our lives should not end on the platform of error. May we still be alive to put our lives in order. I read of a man who was perceived as wicked because of his inventions but by divine orchestration, he was privileged to read his own biography thus gaining access into peoples’ thoughts about him. That encounter changed his entire life and today, even in death, he is remembered and celebrated, not for his past life, but for the turns he took in the right direction. His name is ALFRED NOBEL.

Years after you are long gone, what do you want to be remembered as; a warning sign or a worthy example? Take your pick.