Behold the cloud
the train of our King
the procession of heavens host
hear the blasting sounds
of trumpets
calling for the assembly of saints
dead and living
gathering at the table
feasting at the Lamb’s banquet
joy is the wine
in unending glee to dine
but feel the gnashing of teeth
the regrets of ostrich-like men
who missed the flight
are you transformed to fly
or heated to cry ?
Are you?
Josh’ Oloyede Oluwafemi.
© 2020
The goal is to sell myself to Life,
But Life said come back when you’re dead,
Commas behind zeroes; I just wanted tomorrow,
I valued it more than the now and the loot oh,
So much Carnage is possible!
But some came from the rubble
Worth are you when I ask
Otherwise it’s your task
Get a thing into time, that will live till it’s killed
Blessings are a present,
that means they are present,
Sometimes I forget
My Spirit will be present
Niel Quchi
© 2020
We die to live
Story of my life
I surely do get Abraham now
How he so loved Isaac
And how His God wanted His love dead
We die to live
Story of my life
Ambitious as it were
Drives and passions in my veins
God’s gifts to me, He wants from me
An offering of love to Him
The death of me
He would not let me rot in grave
This is the joy of rapture
Resurrection
Morning
He gives me back my life that my joy might be full
We die to live; story of my life
Favour Omeje
© 2020
What is Joy
Joy is pleasure
It is deeper than happiness
Joy is rapture
Rapture is orgasm
This is His gift to dead men
Men who are broken bread and poured out wine
Men of the alabaster box of savored oil
Sweet smelling living sacrifices, men of obedience
Joy is dying, joy is cheerful giving
Joy is Abraham returning home with a resurrected Isaac
For the LORD will not abandon him in the place of the dead
By Faith, you kill you; By His Spirit, He gives you your life
That is joy
Favour Omeje
© 2020
IF ALL WERE MEDICINE
If all were medicine
Jehova Rapha would’ve retired
and left his theatre for vaccine
but
all weren’t about men’s abilities:
For all doctors had her contact, yet
her flow was as a pool –
the woman with blood issue.
but when to the Rabbi’s hem touched
the river ceased
and to her, received wholeness
If all were medicine
His stripes would be no more but useless
and thirty-nine lashes in vain
but
all weren’t about men’s discoveries
For Lazarus was ill
three days being buried to death
yet on the fourth, the man of Galilee cried
there in loud voice, he raised the dead
“loose him, let him go”
If all were medicine
there won’t be miracle
in the name of Yeshua…
But all weren’t medicine,
let’s shout “Jesus“
and we’re healed!
Josh Oluwafemi Oloyede
©2020
When I’m dead and my tombstone is among the press,
More than fame, did I hug the pressed?
More than religion, did I know deep rest
Or just live with my mouth open…
Never having enough?
Will they say I was circular, just because I circulated?
Will they call me gospel, because I mostly showed up in church clothes?
More than “famzing”, did I have family?
More than pain, did bring relief…
or was pointing fingers the point of hands?
The Niel
©2020
When I’m dead and my tombstone is among the press,
More than fame, did I hug the pressed?
More than religion, did I know deep rest
Or just live with my mouth open…
Never having enough?
Will they say I was circular, just because I circulated?
Will they call me gospel, because I mostly showed up in church clothes?
More than famzing, did I have a family?
More than pain, did I bring relief…
or was pointing fingers the point of my hands?
The Niel
©2020
The slow walk began with a step
As we tethered on to a certain future
We are uncertain
For we could turn back and still be walking in the same direction
All the love we heard mentioned are but echoes of thunder from the cloudy skies that never rain
We wonder
If the future is a path worth threading
When we barely have enough to mend what’s left of our faith
These shoes hurt on many sides
No one should be allowed to walk in our shoes
I have wondered when the colorful pictures we are painted in would stop being a shadow of itself
Seems the only shade of truth is the color of our reflections
But I’ll walk on in those shoes
No matter how tattered they be worn
This I have sworn
To keep believing past where my eyes can see
Till the day comes
When I’ll walk past my failing faith to belief
I’ll keep patching, tailor my feet on a straight path till I am dead
For an uncertain future is brighter than any certain past I’ve thread.
UcTruth
© 2019
Christ a poet 