A Failed Weapon

There is a weapon, I mustn’t use as a Christian
Because using it, is tantamount to failure
I am strongly warned by captain of the Lord’s army
Never to use this weapon
It is certain that, it will definitely fail whether here or hereafter

Rickety machine gun, Mr. flesh
This weapon is weak to execute righteousness without taking the glory
Executing, holiness, peace, love,
humility, joy, kindness is far-fetched from this weapon
Using this weapon for the Lord’s battle is disastrous

A weapon set against the user
You shoot hatred, you inherit broken relationship
You shoot lust, you inherit vanity
You shoot anger, you inherit disorientation
You shoot worries, you inherit high blood pressure

Truly, is a weapon set against the user
if he uses it, the arm of flesh will fail.
The only authentic weapon to use for the battle
Is the weapon of a new man
Created in the image of Christ Jesus

Brightobong
©2021

Love


Love is as beautiful as the smile of a new born
Love became evident when I accepted a new God
Love filled the hallow in my heart when I told sin to be gone
Love pointed a gun at my weaknesses and blew them up
From the dunghill, love picked me up
Love saved me
An heir, he made me
Exceeding joy, he gave me
A new life has certainly begun

Princess Pirinye
© 2020

Take My Hands Instead

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

Power

I pick my words carefully,
Just like picking white beans amidst the brown

I search for my words carefully,
Just like searching for diamonds in the mud

For words can hurt and draw some hate
Words can destroy and finely create

Words can bring life and can bring death
Words can bring courage and can bring fret

Words fire faster than the ‘bullet full gun‘,
Can murder the next man with a bulletproof vest

My tongue is an organ full of ferocious words,
Always ready to unleash terrifying thorns

Like a sword it can slice, divide and tear down
At times i wonder if this red demon can be dismantled, restructured, redesigned, painted with grace and seasoned with salt to speak positively

I’ve come to realize that whatever I say can become a self fulfilling prophecy
My words can either lift me or drift me,
Raise me or erase me,

Words can liberate and can oppress
They can cause to blossom and can suppress

My words are the most powerful weapons that I posses
My word is power!

Princess Pirinye
©2020