furnace – Christ a poet

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

A thousand above me, I’m Joe in a cell
The devil approached me I just wouldn’t sell
I pray that my ex meets Christ at a well
The mercy we sit in, the story we tell
Revival is fire, too holy to quell
I come in a name too holy to spell
They would have used it in movies
They would have finished the groupies
But he who Son frees is a John Wick
And the reason he’s lit is the Spirit,
not the flesh, no the flesh doesn’t profit
But the Spirit is drawing and gifting,
Pastors teachers evangelists prophets.
And the kings of the earth heat a furnace,
But ‘Emmanuel’ isn’t a guy-name
We look human but we’re not the same race
We are victors already in life’s game

Pardon me and all the MC energy
Souls I was sent to are God’s irreplaceably
Not by my specialty but he who lives in me
Everything’s judged by the use they’re bequeathing
I’m born of salvation, an agent of heaven
I doubly owe Jesus, he paid for my saving
I double on serving, I’m dodging the leaven
Our heritage has been edited,
My backup’s angelic, there’s God in my blood
I’m armed to the spirit, my drip is absurd,
Its more than expensive, it’s “Armour of God”

I know

On the surface, I coast like a dolphin
I’m feeling like Thorfinn
Battle scars strike a pose with my farmthings
But I’m focused on holy harvesting
What can be done to one who’s dead already?
Yeah I sit crowned but my head isn’t heavy
He Reigns

Once upon an oops, I was itching on the tripod
Dragon in His shell, wondering what he would hatch for
Many orbits later, I’m assured of what to light for
Life Force,
Everything for The Risen that I write for