Tag: First

Back To Basics

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Common! Toot a pair
Grabs a mic,
My praise is double or nothing when I’m on air
Like Cerelac
I feed babies from what I’m made of
Like a fed’s baby I am made tough
So I come and toot a pair
my fingers form an equilateral triangle
To a king who sits in air
And knows the details of the Bermuda triangle
Singing praises from Lagos to Cincinnati
I’mma do
The Lord’s been making shapes way before the Illuminati

When you’re sick
who do you seek?
The light or dark end? Rahl!
Legend has it
That since the days of the mud seats
Before Harry thought to porter
And Zeddicus Z’ul Zorandered
Beyond the days when knights sat on round tables
And a king listened to a Sorcerer that was mere lean
He gave breath to a mud thing
And remixed an eye from a mud spit

Some people poke at God
Yeah, poke him on
‘Strike me dead if you’re real’
Or I choose to shun!
Same Niggaz having problems choosing what shoes to put on
God laughs and tell them Pick a shoe first
Pokemon.

Choosing God isn’t really a fair choice
it’s cheating
I’m siding with the one who knows how to get a heart beating
Who knows how to take a beating
How to die and still come back with a naming
JESUS!!!!
And the whole mountains came down before me, caving.
You have a chance to cheat legally
To spend your life being fed with epiphanies
Getting glorified in sense mehn, install mentally
Peter leaves a clue to you
You’ll surrender your life too if you only knew
That being dead in Christ
Is a sure way to slay in eternity
For your worth just keeps increasing like the price of a bag of rice. Eternally

Uc Truth
(C) 2021

Hilltop Life

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Life is that way sometimes
Takes you uphill and presents
You with the luxury of returning
to where you first began

Work is that way sometimes
Regardless of your love for the climb
your bent back will boast of burdens borne
and your reward is just another climb

Rest is that way sometimes
It titillates you to the hilltop
Then bores a hole deep in your soul
So you go climbing for her again

Four verses four lines each
Living could be more than hills on threes
Keep making that trip to the top
and sow seeds of you with every step

– Ezeonyeka Godswill
(c) 2021

Nostalgia

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She said I write but it is not poetic
I guess I just recognize a selling point
Point me to the past I’ll be back at it
That first day I saw Godswill

Mmm


I’m emotional I beg your pardon
The things that connect when you meet a God person
I can at least afford to pay attention

All of that bed dressing
But I am not done with the lesson
Cedars got on stage like “We are the best thing”
Masks on my wall, I forgot to call Kizi

We grew from one location
To going on tour and we’re just beginning
They tell me “Bro, one day you go blow”
I smile and bow a seed will die to grow

I could make an anthem for the kain ship
You guys make me feel so fancy
There are stories that I daren’t tell
Movies make my head swell
Eating cabbage like it’s fresh bread
Being Nigerian is a king thing
I just kill all the dread
Luck or is it grace that I’m mehd
if you don’t walk on water
You’ll be doing so soon
What you are is enough
When it’s time don’t you bloom?

Don’t you bloom?

The Nielquchi
© 2020

LOT’S BROTHER-IN-LAW

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Take me back to Gwags;
Let me remake the lags and crags that tripped me forward into UNN.
I thought myself a goner, no Arsenal, and yet I won the war with a few good men.

Barely two years into
UNN my issues
Pointed me to people
Who would grow me into
Feet that would fill great shoes
Burst ma brain, no pimples
I ran into you people
Now I’m pretty grateful

So if you take me back to Gwags
I won’t need the swag
That once was a must-have
No, right now, I have Christ
That sure peace I roll on
That faith is my profession

Tertiary choices once lay ahead of me
A barrier between
the now then and this
I chose first indeed
But God will have his

Abrahaming through lands,
I was my own Isaac – the Son was in the Man

God asked for my sacrifice
I kept dodging all his eyes
I thought that I was wise
Arguing through all his whys

But let me remake
The crags and lags that made
me trip into UNN
Let’s see what happened then…

The Niel Quchi
© 2020

Drive Past It

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I stopped driving at 16 when I had my first accident. The cost of it all made me decide to let the keys go, like lovers on some bridge in Paris, after adding their locks to the teeming number that will cripple the bridge.

This is not a poem. And it is not about lucks or keys
or a kiss or about spoon feeding emotions
or trying to have a relationship
or driving a career worthy of a Fast and Furious adaptation or a Shakespeare narration.

This is to the one who has felt heartbreak close up but, like one of the blind asked to describe the structure of the elephant, will take my words with a pinch of salt. Add it to that part of your wound that a heartbreak caused, cover your cracks with it, do an Nsibidi inscription on your sensitivity.

Heartbreaks are bad for your Health.

Remember when I said I stopped driving, well, I will drive again, and again and again and again. That is how hearts get broken…and heal.

You love or trust or have certain expectations for/from people, their inability to meet up or match your expectations leaves you hurt, and now I have been summoned from Frankenstein’s grave to tell you this;

Don’t stop loving, don’t stop being optimistic, don’t stop expecting the best from people.

Don’t stop believing…
Don’t stop loving…
That is how hearts get broken…and heal enough to heal other broken hearts.


Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
©2020

Take My Hands Instead

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One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020

Story of My Life

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What is life without death?
What is a seed if it yields no crop?
Life is fleeting, blood is red
Blood is hot, and so is love

The heart beats, it is also red
Adrenaline, the same is hot
My appetite, red sizzling stew
Sex, with a hot red blood

What is life without death?
My wills and desires, an offering of love
For my gifting and dreaming; his gifts to me
And when I say, “You first; You alone”
What He hears: “I love You, my LORD”

Favour Omeje
© 2020

MERCY

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First, Silence.
Complete tranquil silence.
Much like the peace in his voice
And the extravagant beauty in his eyes
When he spoke.
Blew me away.

Still, Silence.
Feel the time freeze.
See a thousand bearded jaws hit the ground.
Shock palpable. Eyebrows raised.
Like darkened clouds.

Now… rain.
First a drop. Another. Yet another.
Gathering pace. Pita-pata-piti.
Like ice against hard earth,
From a hailstorm out of season,
So their stones against the ground.

He Writes.
My name, maybe. Yours, maybe.
Or perhaps a million reasons why
Why I, undeserving, as I am,
Should, of mercy, partake.

Oh. Steps.
I never thought I’d hear it
Receding footsteps. With resounding eloquence
Speaking calm to my guilty heart,
Leading away my death deserved.

Silence. Again.
Complete tranquil silence.
Much like this peace in my heart
And the extravagant joy in my soul
When he speaks.
Blows me away.

Woman.
Where are those thine accusers?
Hath no man condemned thee?
No man, Lord.
Neither do I condemn thee.

Beauty.
Oh, what beauty without flaw.
Love. Like Mercy unmerited.
Pouring forth from God’s own lips.
Go, He says, and sin no more.

By Nonso

©2020