Immortal Daughter

January 27, 2022Leave a comment

Yes I wanna be starting something!
I have to be startin’ somethin!!!

Today, we look at the last day of May 2021. On this day, the 31st of May, at 10:29pm, for no apparent reason that the need to read, I wrote:

I was a child when we started walking
The heights were hid beyond the clouds, I would practice staring
And Father told me face your school work, it more important
And when you’re done with that then facing this won’t be discordant
But what he didn’t say was that we were a fam of peasants
And dreams belong to those who don’t mind being the miscreant

I wonder though about the people who were here before me
We talk of passion now but some of them would find it funny
They live from hand to mouth and yet their stomachs live on empty
There is no height but tables made of meat and something juicy

But that was just a spark of Niel. On this day, Chika brought ze fire. She started at 10:55pm, Chika St. Davnique, goddess of CaP wrote:

So many times we wished to ring the bell of truth.
To dial the phone and say the words that our hearts were heavy with.
To explain the real thread of reason that held our acts together.
To let go of that addiction born of sleeping with our pain.
To yell. …sing along to melody we once loved
Scream at the shape of our frustration. ..
Dance.
Dare.
Dream.
So many times we stopped short.
No right time ever showed,
Until many left and time ran out on
us

St. Davnique

She tagged it #oldiegoodie

She had probably written it a while back. She continued st 11:06pm, so close to the next day, and said:

SWEET BY AND BYE

I came.
I saw
I was conquered. ….
Slain in the arms of total surrender.
Banking on strength beyond my ken.
You held my hands.
Taught me to walk on bended knees.
I did not think equality a gift to be contended over

Why bother?
You are the best part of uncertain tomorrows.

Nothing is sure on this side of time

But You…
You are the pressed down,running overflow,

Flowing from the wells of my existence and essence.

My defined definition, definitely.

Boulders bask beside boulevards be speaking the bedazzling beauty of your magnanimity.

Phew!

Words be dear and rare

Scarce,yet I dare to share
like scarves carved into history as they wrapped a widow’s two mites

As carefully guarded as two fish and five loaves,

let these mine mind meditations mindfully yours truly be more minded fully,
That they be Yours,multiplied fully.
Bringing in a harvest of not just sweet words but lived love

Until I meet you at eternity’s near side.
I remain yours truly Jesus,

the Saint on Your heart’s side

St. Davnique.

The way she signs them, you have to know that she was not freestyling.

11:34pm

Could she have typed so fast in a freestyle session?..

Her last entry for the day:

DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS

I’m feeling one kain
Just a few sips was all I took
I swear down guy!

I’m too tush for slurry talk

See,
I’ve never been but if I were,
I figure I’d be able to tell you that I’m scared!!!

Man!!! I dey fear die!!!

No be say go come,

But na only God know say I dey doubt!

Like I look at my reflection and I wonder,

“Who’s the lair,”

My past wonder or my present pain?

But I’m not at all drunk so I can’t be caught unfresh

I mean how can I let you know I’m a loser?

Yes oh!

I don forget wetin e be like to score goal!

Man, don’t get me wrong oh,

God has been good oh.

But how do I tell you that I struggle to be grateful,

Because the blessings come in trickles where pain is a flood?

My guy leave matter.

I’m probably the biggest fraud you’ll ever meet.

Yahoo girl ni mi!

But wait let me drink small water and see if I’ll be fine.

I’m still feeling…one kain

Yeah, and her writing is fluid. She likes to just play around with delivery and style. I like it. And she called it “Drunken Confessions”. What do you think? Was she writing under the influence?!

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Niel Quchi
Chika St. Davnique

Hatching Divinity

January 26, 2022January 26, 2022Leave a comment

Missed calls from sleep caused
By laws still anonymous
Godswill asked for prose
Only cams see a Niel pose
Fat girls and slim bros
Body spray and new clothes
I found I can’t boast
Bottle of the Holy Ghost

Pretty brief…meant to be a spur for the others to write. But there was not a single spurt or jot until 7:32pm, when Uba cried:

I hear voices in my head and they speak to me,
I see them standing in this haunted house like scare crows about to plough my soul with their hoes,
I fear they have planted fear now scared that harvest season is near.
This fear, now spreading through my body like stage 5 cancer
I can’t seem to find the answers to these growing thoughts about to blow my mind
Making me bind so I confide in loneliness, converse with sheets
Y’all will think that I’m insane, i have a feeling that my soon to be new resident might be a Mad House.
I sometimes wonder,
This new darkness that I have found myself in, how I got to this place?
How i fell into this base so dim, it seems I’m stuck in this maze doing a merry go round, i am so lost and don’t think i can be found
My eyes shiny like silver surfer searching for escape but I am Galactus slave, it is devouring my happiness and though I patiently wait for dawn
When I once felt like a king but here I am just a pawn, My mind tell me its Check Mate that i can’t find a way out
I can’t fight this feeling,
I thought I was superman but this house is my crib, tonight.
Creaking stairs, Broken Windows
These walls look like clowns even batman would be scared of the Joker in a poker face.
I’m stuck,
My body feels like an Overpriced apartment and these voices in my head are those of a nagging landlord that i have grown tired of running from, so i brace myself for my end.
But how do I return what i never owned?
How do i take what I didn’t give
Cuz I had sieve the truth away and drown in these lies
Let slidering tongue in to deceive
Had lived In dark so much all I recognize is Eve
But I refuse to give into this deceit
The potter’s hand never made a mistake
His air runs through these lungs
This tunnel has light at the end
Suicide can’t be my savior
It isn’t the author and finisher of me
That Job had been done on the cross

Mindsmith came through 47 minutes later, at 8:19pm with a pretty astute presentation:

Look, see the future before you. A year and half ago you hadn’t come this far but now look at you little flower you were a big tree has grown from this mustard seed.

You come out of your revelry, have you been day dreaming? Nope, you had an epiphany. A revelation has come to at first you want to be the realist, the very first critic of your own invention. But you can’t deny the confirmation that burns in your soul. The same confirmation when you pray. Yes, you know what I’m talking about. Let’s end it here. My guy is waiting to use my phone and make call.

But no you were not day dreaming… You had an epiphany.

Mindsmith is in love with the abnormal. And he likes to make it all appear a tad more casual than most. But there you have it.

And five minutes later, at 8:24pm, I began:

Lemme start here

I used write a lot of descripto
Now I only follow the script oh
My aunty told me, “Stop with the crypto!”
I told her, “CBN didn’t say so.”

I realized something this year though
Jehovah Jireh everyday Bro
It’s how I reap where I never did sow
And trusting in his love is the peace oh
That quick maths
The real peace maths

The parable is told of the sparrow
Forked wings, fast thing, but he don’t sow
But me, fasting, I dey harbour
Resentment, when God meant that I lack not
Desires made of greed make me pray more
Recently I found a few of my mates oh
Never really planted from the get-go
They don’t have the speed, or direction
But here we are led, we’re the Lord’s own.
Agidigba

Very Eremi of me, I think. And I continued at 8:58pm:

Ain’t nostrategy that can out-plan
A man freestyling from God’s hand
The winds of life dey blow like fake charger
But nothing offs his stabilizer
Fervent, dogged, steady praying
They will never see him coming
He who sees the end from starting
He will finish what he’s starting

Shey you wanna be starting something

I am Micheal when I jack sin
I’m a son moon-walking
Ain’t no news thriller than this
But there’s no condemning
And the power reels me in again
Hopelessness is impossible
God’s got plans for the things I’ll do
I am free, oh yes it’s true
But only when I admit the truth

Who can separate the two of us
Ain’t no enemy as serious
Since I trust my Jesus
We are one like a Simba song

Though we are many

Only rushing cause it’s fun to run
Can’t you see the way my life is run
When I see my worry level up
I just go and dive into the Word
*Dive into the Word*
And I speak the Word
My confession repetition up
Like the Lady with the thing with blood
I don’t really need a Doctor
And when men lock door
Yeah you know that I win though
Viewpoint made of God’s Word
Still the very best option

At 9:33, Ebube joined the fray:

I testify of a love that satisfy and on you confers the power of sonship
Through one deep did wash so clean With no tip.

I testify of an opportunity to lean where you do not qualify by works but can walk through the door as though you did.

I’m a testimony
Rescued through yawah’s sudden appearance, that entrance knocked the wind off my pipe just like that my way paralysed

Though in clothes deemed fit for a pile of rag without denial he accepted to buy me from the cell where I was dragged and ragged he tagged me

A slave having no decent testimonial
with a heart as bitter as bile
not with money did he but with the blood currency the very reason I can claim decency when from infancy i wrecked of sin

And she popped out a testimony piece. What happened to her epiphany?

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Niel Quchi
Ebube
Mindsmith
U.B.A.

Where Opportunity was

January 22, 2022January 22, 2022Leave a comment

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of the a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

It is no secret that as artists, freestyling helps us become more adept with the delivery of our artforms.A fine artist freestyling can grow to the point that he quickly waves a masterpiece from his brushes at a speed that would be considered humanly impossible. Same goes for the rapper and the actor.

Practice makes perfect? No, Practice makes you better and better until you become a trusted source for consistent excellence.

On today’s episode of ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions, we take a figurative trip to the 14th of May, 2021. The topic on ground was “Opportunity Spots”; not one of my best topics, I admit. It seemed a little difficult, at first, to articulate what the topic meant. Normally, I have to freestyle first since I choose the topics. Personally, I think that it only clears the air about what that topic is supposed to mean.

Here I am, 1:23pm:

I’m talking ’bout places today
Yeah I took some time off to play
Iz norh like I have much to say
But as a philosopher, lemme astonish ya with an idea of a pay day

What if I never met Pearl?
Chances are no Daniella
Fast forward no Penspeak
No Sioné no Janette_ikz
Oh I wonder ’bout my writing
Would I know to do the right thing?
This CaP team capped me sharply;
Showed me some of what I might be
Gave me stages, pictures, guyses
Christrospective devices

Opportunity spots
Him in what he is not
Let the energy blot
Opportunity spots
Row the both of your boats
Down the streams and the clout

So I asked him, do you wanna be taught the Word?
We don’t do it because we’re bored
A man’s life is to fear the Lord
There is little he can’t afford

And at 1:32pm, I continued. If you are the kinda person that does not like long pieces of literature…:

He said his name and I said mine
I gave him food, and free of charge
I washed his feet, it was the time
He repeated what he learnt, showed he understands

So I asked him, do you wanna be taught the Word?
We don’t do it because we’re bored
A man’s life is just to fear the Lord
There is little he can’t afford

But I found there’s things to give,
Use the weapons from that and this
Pray, teach and Xender things
Opportunity spots un-missed

I’m talking ’bout places today
Yeah I took some time off to play
Iz norh like I have much to say
But as a philosopher, lemme astonish ya with an idea of a pay day

Opportunity spots
Him in what he is not
Let the energy blot
Opportunity spots
Row the both of your boats
Down the streams and the clout

And it would seem that the 13th hour was an awakening one for more than me, because Ezeonyeka Godswill came through with a 1:35pm spurt:

Opportunity is a funny thing
How it sneaks in disguised
Intent on being missed

Opportunity costs nothing
But the attention of a keen eye
Yet it is anything but cheap

Opportunity spots on any scene
Many a man has had a slice
It’s your decision to seize it

Yes,it would seem that Godswill simply wrote on “Opportunity Costs” rather than “Opportunity Spots”. But the goddess of Cap, Chika St. Davnique delivered a spurt at 4:52pm:

Deep down in my heart, I’m a vinyl music, slow jazz music listening, candlelight slow dancing…

Play me a tune of dreams
Romantic and sweet
I promise I’ll lose my shoes

I swear I’ll forget to close the gates to my heart

I think I’ll sing the twinkle of that moment forever

If only you were attentive enough to spot the opportunity.

Deep down in my head, I’m the indefatigable crazy, would-you-drink-me-the-stars-and-shine-brighter romantic.

Sit oblivious of the rain and stare
but more importantly, talk
About everything and nothing
Glean insight from our blind spots
Lie to me and say; “we’re different”
Even when we know, come trouble, we’ll crumble

And it wouldn’t be because we weren’t strong enough.

I feel I’ll bottle the agony in a glance

Scars are always opportunities if only you can spot them.

I’m tired now, floating away.
Head and heart spent.

I spot even now, an opportunity to rest
In the knowledge that He knows His goofy-head, hopeless-to-stupor-romantic-Cinderella-baby-girl.

So it’s off to sucking thumbs.

Ah!
Who writes like this?!

I know that the world is full of wonders but these people still surprise me. The ability to wrap a few unrelated words together to paint meaning beyond the implications of the words themselves…that’s poetry folks.

Up next is Eremi, at 6:49pm, with a bit more class than foreseen:

*Grammar class*
Teacher says
“Learn to place your full stops
At the right spot
Else your statements will be senseless and full-ish”

*Puberty class*
Adults say
Don’t pop those zits
They’ll leave dark spots
Would you rather your face be awful and spot-ish?

*Life class*
If your syntax is right
You’ll definitely know
When there’s need for a full stop
Only Fools stop before wisdom’s gate
If you spot some amazing spots
Make it full with your essence
And whether or not you break open those zits
Don’t forget growing is more than aesthetics
The process could alter form
But the result is worth it.

Don’t let that moment you so desire slip away
Because you consider yourself a fool who sleeps away
Wake up! and fill that spot
Even when it is full
Don’t stop
Enter the palace of wisdom
Be the process and the result.

And I think she most embodied the Spirit of the topic. That’s Eremi for you. Its easy to get carried away by your disposition, as a person, instead of your mission as an artist; and this is where “being a professional” comes in. We each have to recognize the difference between casual moments and opportunity spots.

I dropped the last spurt of poetry at 7:05pm:

Shoulders can neck when they know where I’m headed
Opportunity spots washed away by the tangent
Butter, Jam or Bama, the colour is that I red it
Straightening for Heaven every soul that was Hell bent
I rid myself of dullness by sharpening like a Katana
Very few peeps can come call me their father
Odim on to Lekki, my Baby told me, “Lotanna!”
Freestyle-reading freestyles, you know the plan, Ma

PS: I love to make real life, albeit strange, references in my poetry.

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Ezeonyeka Godswill
Niel Quchi
Eremi
Chika St. Davnique

The Costs of an Opportunity

January 21, 2022January 21, 2022Leave a comment

Opportunity costs constant practice of preparing for one.

It’s like that snake that eats its own tail. Not bad, I reckon. And her vibe bounced around until it 2:35 PM, Lady Nancy picked it up with the same vibe:

They say opportunity come but once
Once again I say it’s a lie
What does it cost God to create one?
And another and another?

See?

Same vibe, they both went for a flash of perfection. But behold, at 3: 30pm, I had something to say of opportunity cost:

Opportunity costs me my bed
Is this real or in my head
Like the faces behind me
BRT, ATM and NYSC

Opportunity costs you excellence
Is being sincere worth any pretence?
No?
Respecter les doses prescrites
Of course the training shows
Persons here already see the precedence

Opportunity costs us disorganization
Is that the time that you start preparation?
Everywhere within our reach,
There is an opportunity
Is this a lie?
Life cascades opportunities

And that was the first round, second round was made available at 3:53pm:

First I kissed a girl, I was drooling in my Pampers
By the time I’m paid, maybe she’ll be done with masters
Quchi told me no, Niel went and left us
Two word foods in Naija will have you moaning in tongues

EastSide till I second-yeared in the work
I watch so I do not end in the work
Operation “Depopulate Hell” in the Works
My main works say ministry, ministry works

If the sky spits me at the moon but I’m cloud-clad
So instead I land on Saturn, in a bed of pepper fumes, lost in what I had
If my straightness came with a jacket
If you never met me, would you still fall in love?
The child says, “tomorrow” like it’s not the same day.
Would you take a picture?
Not a good time?
Not a good time?
Where else could you be?
Would you take a picture?
Not a good time?

Yes yes, I apologise for drifting off. At 4:34pm, Uba came to the fore:

So, I remember all the opportunities that I didn’t take
The mistakes made
The cost was time
A price too expensive to pay
But Hey, no time to dwell
Ahead ahead is the movement
This back wasn’t meant for the floor
This mind can’t be rooted to a spot
Cuz when HE plot my life’s curve it was always for the x-axis
Father Abraham’s bloodline
I’m too rich to be broke
And I’m dead to this world, his word was the kill shot
So even if I bleed anguish and pain
His blood has clot that hurt

Eremi followed through at 5:33pm with her classic quatrain stanzas of wonder. We should talk about Eremi’s writing syle oe of these days. The clarity of it, within the form of classic or textbook style poetry, makes her a pleasant surprise to read. Check this out:

“Opportunity no get price tag oh
Be careful of those
Their costs are never small
You can be so sure”
To expatiate

Opportunities, could they be like flies?
That bug when the place is messed up
And leave a few behind when the place is all clean?

Could they be like mirages
When you could only perceive them from afar
They tend to disappear when you get closer?

Could they be like fantasies?
That only come when your lids are closed
And your heart open to fantasize
Because your hands can’t seem to reach?

I dare say
Opportunities come everyday
So does distractions
Of want
Of the appearance of good
Of misplaced priorities
Or of courage unwilling to surface
And each day we trade
We barter opportunity
For what we may have tagged impunity
But please
Keep watch for when “Kairos” moments
are on display
Their costs are usually heavier
Because they are weightier

You would only know how valuable when you owned them

Woah!! Dripping awesome!!

Need I say more?
I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Eremi
Hanna Azubuike
Lady Nancy
U.B.A.
Niel Quchi

A workbook of God discussions (ctd.)

January 19, 2022January 19, 2022Leave a comment

Father, it’s me again
I really need your ears
I’m really in pain
I’ve waited for your audience
I really need a change
I’ve gone weary with my efforts
I really need your comfort
My strength has been drained
I really need you
Turn my life around
Make a boomerang
Pump in your grace
And I will bounce back
If you don’t tickle me
I won’t be tickled
If you don’t rescue me
I won’t like victory
I’m tired of this stagnation
I’m revolting within me
My spirit is pretty uncomfortable
I’m warring with myself
My mind is perplexed
Come to my rescue
My help comes from you
Let my ears hear good news
Let my eyes see good views
Let my hands handle good tidings
Let my mouth witness good things
It’s been a long time coming
This is one manner in which I pray

Personally, I feel; like she was just showing off. That passion of a heartfelt wail is not so kneeling in the spurt. It sparks through rather than floods. But she does ok, all devices considered. Her resignation glows.

It was after an hour and eighteen minutes, at 7:23 PM that Princess Pirinye. For those of you who have experienced Pirinye before, you can recognize the consistency in her voice. She is still our royal dynamo, never failing to twist. You who are new to her, please meet Princess Pirinye:

*Hello Dad*
Well, I don’t need to ponder on the words to use
I don’t need to pick them out, before they are misused
I don’t need to know how to construct my sentence and place my tenses
What’s the essence?
I say “Hello Dad” and I’m given so much preference
Everything suddenly freezes
His attention he releases
I’m overwhelmed by how he listens to my request
Giving no excuses, he addresses my distress
“Hello Dad” brings the whole victory.

Princess Pirinye
Freestyle Friday

Yep, and she signs her name. And that is super helpful because, the guys who used to edit this later (me), would need to add that. So adding it for them, she’s an angel.

Coming through at 9:42 PM, was the tie and dye jedi, founder of Surprano Art and Clothing, Prince Adeleye Olaoye with “a lot has changed…”:

A lot has changed since my knees dialled your line,
Then, I had no clogs in my mind,
And I knew what I wanted
I was alien to distraction,
My lungs weren’t polluted with doubts,
“Bless and provide for Parents so that they can buy me bicycle “
These words were always spoken in confidence
With my hands clutched to my chest;
My knees dialling God’s line
A lot has changed since then,
My feelings now live in a dry land,
And thoughts are hard to find there,
And when I find words to draw from my well,
It’s not good enough to be served before You,
How do I sieve out prayers from the debris clogging my mind,
How do I stay still when I have so much to let out
But can’t find words to convey them,
Only tears flooding my facing,
For how long will my pillow endure these pains?
When will my tears water my prayers?
When will my eyes watch my desires grow into reality?
When will these little droplets of words,
Mumbled in my heart carry enough mustard seeds,
To move mountains I see before me
Have I been dialling the wrong line?
Dear Lord, I ask for nothing more
Than to teach me how to pray
I can’t stay still again,
Speak now or I keep dialing your line the best way I know how to!

Hmm…Very sober
Very serious
Very middle of the night

But just then, at 11:17 PM, the goddess in CaP, Chika St. Davnique purred poetry her exotic poetry across our screens:

Our Father,
Who seats in the council of constellations
And drinks cocktails of volcanoes
Hallowed be thy name,
Olodumare-baddest, Agidigba-finest, Keeper of my robe, Lifter of my head, and God of gods. Olowgbogboro, I evolve in pursuit of your words.
Thy kingdom come,
With righteousness as rain. Rein captivity
And over the lawless King reign.
Teach brother Nebuchadnezzar
That Lions eat grass when they try to wrestle with God.
Thy will be done…
In this earthen vessel that is me
My life a mirror of your divine intentions
Picture perfect, bright as your thoughts.
Give me this day my daily peace,
For bread isn’t as filling
Echezona, that my frame is frail
I am shamelessly needing your mercy, daily
And when all is said and done,
Crown my tomorrows in beauty
For thine is the kingdom
The best part of uncertain tomorrows

Amen. Did you have to wake up from that too? So much “Nigerian pentecostal” vibes

This is the same person who, in A WORKBOOK OF GOD DISCUSSIONS, acted like she was not praying on purpose. Shey, I told you guys.

Four minutes to the next day, at 11:56 PM…

It happens to me where I find myself at a few minutes to 12am, and I write fast to try and get in a good number of poems before it’s 12. The finality at the end of Xhika’s piece, like she thought that no one would write after her.

But here is Adeleye Olaoye, four minutes to the next day, at 11:56 PM:

I don’t know how death feels like,
I have not even had a taste of it,
It once walked past me,
And that day, I lost my uncle,
And I was still very much young
But now, every day I am being reminded,
That the grim reaper will come knocking,
Snatching my loved ones away from me,
And I am left helpless,
I do not know how to pray or what to pray for,
When these feelings come,
But one thing I am sure of,
Is What His words say,
I will chew on them,
Till I know how to pray
Selah!

Authors:
Hanna Azubuike
Princess Pirinye
Adeleye Olaoye
Chika St. Davnique

A workbook of God discussions

January 18, 2022January 21, 20226 Comments

I pray.
Let the words of my mouth.
And the meditations of my heart.
Be acceptable in your sight.
Oh Lord.
And when I come on the edge
Of every of life’s precipices.
And take the plunge into decisions
Let my Falcon find his Winter Soldier.
I pray.
That the tears of my eyes.
And the trepidations of my heart.
Find me, and find me still, in you.
Oh Lord.

Sometimes I forget to begin a freestyle session and everyone carries on like it’s a Wednesday and not a Friday. But sometimes, like this particular day, the poetry starts ahead of the giving of a topic.

Speaking of the topic, the topic this time was “How to pray”. Nonso, however, didn’t know any of that. He just wrote, and at 12:36pm, he wrote again:

Give to a fish, man.
And he’ll soon need another.
But teach a fish to man.
And you’ve manned him forever.
And this fish will grow balls.
Big, strong, hairy ones.
The heart of a lion.
And the will of a Warrior.
Teach a pauper to paup
And he’ll Jabez all his life.
But give a crown to a King.
Bend the knee.
Teach a Seminarian to “amen.”
And his palms will always kiss.
His lips whisper benedictions.
Knees chaffed from petinence.
But teach an infant to faith.
To Abba, and to Kadosh.
Bring him truth in all its glory.
Watch the sun bow to him.

Ten minutes later, Funke came through with:

Enter his gates with boldness & thanksgiving
Let go of all these misgivings
With praises -hands raising
Acknowledge His sovereignty
That is how to Pray!
Take your guilt to the cross
Leave the burden on your source
Confess your sins, let His blood erase
He knows about them anyways…
Acknowledge He knows all…Yes He does
This is how to Pray
Forgive, if you were offended
So your prayers don’t get hindered
Though hard, let Grace prevail
The light of Christ passing through your heart’s veil
Your petitions afterwards present!
This is how to Pray
Well the list is inexhaustible
For scriptures exists-so irresistible
Saints of old also echo their tales
Telling us how to Pray!
So while I wait for Nepa’s light
Saying No to sweat this Friday night
Abeg add my prayer to yours till I hear
UP NEPA!
This is how to Pray!

It’s the brightly colored writing style for me. She managed to read just like a psalm would. The anachronism is the NEPA there. That’s pretty Naija.

When those of us who have read UC Truth
saw “UC is typing”, our excitement was evident. Here he is, at 12:47pm:

How to pray I know not
Maybe it is because I don’t have a rule of approach
I just go when he says come
So I come
how I Am
said I should
I set my eyes on him
and then I rise like the sun when it’s dawn
when I’m done
Which is never
Cos I pray whenever
Wherever I am
For I Am is there wherever
Whenever I pray
I Am is there whenever
Wherever I pray
Boldly I do
speaking normally like I do
When I say how I feel to the ones I do, to.
And if saline fluid escape my eyes
I let them
just like he lets me breathe
I let them too, one then two
Until I have cried him a river
same one he lets bubble inside
and then the water breaks
And I put to bed
whatever it is that bid me come
happy or sad
I lay them all there, stripped
naked, at his feet
whipped beyond recognition
Tongues and tongues lashing
till only one tongue is left laughing
So how to pray I know not
I just come and be me
with He
Who said
Come!

So, tell me; how did that feel?

For me it felt like he was replying to the question of how to pray in an anguished, passionate groan. Well, that’s UC-sensei for you.

It is important to recognize that these different replies basically represent different prayers to God, and then there are the replies. At 1:50 PM, Tochukwu came through with his own entry:

Convo with my dad?
With all sense of respect yet so informal
With calmness in my voice but not of fear
With a knowing that he really is listening even if he’s looking at a newspaper while I blab
I don’t need to call him big names to get him to do my bidding
The name ‘Daddy’ is more than enough
Reserved only for his offsprings
I just come because I’m his child and his responsibility.
With no sense of terms and conditions applied

He took a 27 minute breath and then he continued:

A quick one…#PettyFuse
For Christ’s sake, do we really need to raise our voice at him while having a convo?
The answer is obvious
It’s a two person conversation and the other ain’t hearing impaired
What’s with the ‘raise your voice’ and ‘I can’t hear you’ everytime we gather to communicate.
Like I was talking to you before…
Seems the amplitude of the sound increases the efficacy of its ascendance.
Without the gyration, the communication is not effective ’cause the angels on duty do not receive enough kinetic energy to be excited from one level/realm to the other realm carrying our requests with them.
Word!
Did I say we should not freely express ourselves as we please while praying?
Did I?
I just asked why there’s a need to induce persons to increase their volume when obviously they ain’t talking to me
And to think that the person they’re communicating with is closer than their breathing breathe
Maybe it’s more spiritual to ‘ratata…’ in high tones than in soft tunes

And such are the Poets in our team. The fluidity and freedom of language…you should try it, if you haven’t. Meanwhile,something was brewing.

Amongst us in CaP,there are those with a blinding dexterity to their techniques. But that is one of the things that you learn with us – YOU ARE AN IRREPLACEABLY UNIQUE VOICE.

So even when you feel like there is no point trying because you will never surpass so and so? Everyone feels like that at some point. However, everyone didn’t live in that feeling. There is a time for everyone,but you must grow daily, in order to be ready for that moment.

But some are born ready.

At 5:09PM, Hanna stated categorically:

“I’m ANGRY‼️”
But that would be disrespectful
How can 24 elders be angry at me at the same time?
So I tiptoe into Abba’s parlor
Mumbles some words while
He discusses with them about the state of the world and all the big things happening somewhere in the middle east.
Each day comes like the previous day and I do my rituals, mumbling pale nothingness into the blue skies in hope that I’d be asked “what did you say?”
Who knows, may be courage would find a platform on my tongue to vent all the molten magma boiling within
Sometimes a stare from Abba at me…
But wait…
Is he really looking at me or at my sibling who is speaking loud into my ears like I have the answers to her prayers?
Some days silence is what he had for breakfast, no incense of any kind.
Yes,I was shocked to see myself awake
Anyway, what is there to gain?
Moments where I needed to divide the hours, sorry elders into two and tell him of the impending dangers he’s already aware of.
But I just sigh and he nods in the midst of their conversations like he heard me.
And yes, a day came when I finally did say those first words
He looked at me without surprise but with the look that was satisfied after much longing , the desire to hear what I had just said.
And that was it!
The rest is his story because a conversation almost always involves two lives.

First, I’m like, Who is angry?
Then I get sucked into her artful contemplation. She’s just writing what she is thinking and seeing in her mind’s eye, as she prays.

Let it be said,clearly.

This is a compilation of prayers that were supposed to be poems about “How to pray.”

5:55 PM

Chika St. Davnique:

Dear Dad,
I’m struggling to understand it
How do you stay still?
Storms roar and you’re the eye
Silent like the tears on Hannah’s cheeks.
How do you stay still?
How does a mother watch her child die?
I struggle to grasp the difference
the disparity between a God who is good and allows crushing.
How?
Maybe teach me to pray?
Maybe help it all make sense?
Maybe stay still and just sit
Here.
Now.
Maybe…

Shey you see this one…?

She just ups and pretends she doesnt know she is praying, just to illustrate a person who doesn’t know they are praying. The goddessness of the notion, leaves you wondering…

Does she know she is praying?
Does she often pray this prayer?

Then it dawns on me. We all do.

Ini Brown probably waltzed into group chat and went straight for the fridge. He dropped this one at 6:04 PM:

How to pray?
ok, how about,
give me give me give me give me give me give me.
oh and my name is Ini.
Many times we are blinded by personal needs,
often seeking harvest from personal seeds ,
salt of the Earth, the world is a pot of problems, but you’re not our cup of tea.
how about the next time I try to, pray I don’t pray about me.

Where is my laughing-hard emoji?

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Nonso John
Chika St. Davnique
TC
Olufunke Ajegbomogun
Ini Brown
UC Truth

God Sightings

January 15, 2022Leave a comment

Ok, so for me it was the amount of talent that I found in the group. Now not to say that I did not know that there will be this abundance of talented writers but the fact that there was this spontaneity about how different pieces were being written and how dynamic the pieces were, they were not your regular pieces they were just so creative. I mean listening to Niel’s Bibles are selfies, the first one or Nnanna’s Silence and just looking at everybody in the group and how dynamic we all are the way we were just amazing in our different ways. I was surprised and I just knew that I was at the right place, deep down inside of me that I was at the right place, a place where I could grow, a place where I could get better, a place where I would grow effectively in writing, I’m grateful, thank you very much sir.

Ok, yeah, that is not really poetry. But I thought you should see it. I still regret that there is no video of me from before Bibles are selfies, but I am so grateful to God for all the work he has seen us through, over the years.

And 43 minutes later, here is Hanna Azubuike with a piece of her beautiful mind:

I don’t know if she was the one you were busy chatting with while I hoped you’d propose to me.
Now I’ve seen her, she’s everything you wanted and more
She does the magazine like a soldier stuck to her guns
She’s never late
Pauses on purpose to accurately release her words like bullets to hit her target
Imani’s powder got nothing on her
Hers is gun powder that brighten the eyes of her ‘victims’

time to shoot your shot

Okay, for a bit of a background: Christapoet has a monthly magazine that is managed and edited by Imani. So on this particular day, something made everyone get in a grateful spirit. Maybe it was Godswill who said something or maybe it was Imani, but either way, it sparked these poems, about Imani. Hanna is talking to Uba about choosing Imani over her. I think she kids. But at 10:56, Eremi had this to say about Imani:

Imani, of bright smile
And of starry eyes
Imani of sweet words, a sweeter heart and a soothing voice
Imani of great strength
And an even greater determination
Imani, the one that oversees the seas of contents’ flow
Imani, my beloved
I knew we had some things in common
Alphabets were the least I would have stood on
Well, the alphabet makes words don’t they?
And Words make worlds, don’t they?
We work wonders when we write, don’t we?
Imani my very great friend
I hail from this end

Yes yes, Imani is incredible.

And that was the extent of that day’s freestyling. Long ago, before the advent of freestyling, these poets would claim not to be able to make such freely comments in this style. But that is one of the goals of the freestyling: Growth, confidence.

The next day,I was itching to write so at 4:31pm, I did:

From God is love to God is Killer
From eternal salvation to the 10 plague giver
From God who answers faith to God of the sweaty prayer
From God who forgave sin to Ananias and Sapphira

So which is Witch – The deceiver or the misled?
Sometimes I jot with a pencil because I miss lead,
But also so I erase it when I have gained sense;
But there are things that are written in blood like Christ’s death

I forgot that if I don’t do my own research
There’ll be people telling me that I won’t resurrect
Far be it from me to drink it hook, line and sinker
Even Christ didn’t, and I’m his doppelganger
I’ve been living on his rhema like another banger
And I won’t miss the message for any interpreter

…and at 5:56pm…

Watch and pray my Bro the temptations are plenty plenty
I told my girl no fornication until we are married
If I was dodging meat for people I’d be vegetarian
Truth is truth whether or not its from foe or friend
That’s…

…and at 8:02pm… I wonder what it was that I was doing at the time:

The Love of God is very constant
No doctrine can change that
I didn’t deserve it before he gave Christ
I didn’t sow a seed to reap Christ

But that was all before the 9th…when we wrote on Holy Fun Stuff.

Authors:
Eremi
Niel Quchi
Uba
Hanna Azubuike

Holy Fun Stuff

January 14, 20221 Comment

Busy Friday, up for air like I was diving
Made in Heaven and I am chosen like Joe Biden
God
Taught my hands to war and gave me tools for thriving
That’s how God do, I cannot be shy too

Yes he said he would do it
And I’m trusting him through it
All I needed was light, when I saw it I knew it
Old and dead was I, but His Word is renewing
He gave me Life after Earth, and the power for during

Set apart now, yes, you can call me Holy
Kingdom focused like a soldier when I tell his story
P
I’m past tense, and now I’m comfy with evangelism
And I don’t wait for Easter to tell the world Christ is reason

Okay, so there are times and seasons that Sitz im Leben these sessions. For example, this set is from the Easter period of 2021. A lot of times, some of us would simply draw lyrics from the context, and transpose that with the topic at hand. But some us, like me, would ignore the topic mostly or adhere entirely to it. This brings us to the next freestyle.

Nonso John, in my opinion, can’t be said to really be freestyling. He’s too practiced for that. He would write, edit, restructure, all that. At the end, his freestyles would be…

Just check this out; coming in at 6 minutes after 5pm, Nonso John :

I’m human.
Trust me, I am.
I wear my pants one leg at a time.
And, believe it or not.
I cry. I fall. Yes, I even fart.
Ew.

Sometimes I feel worthless.
Like collateral damage. Expendable.
But, come on. All said and done.
We all know an Old Shot’s a Nigger.
Once every day; twice on Sundays.

Barbarians and Predators
See them threaten to Terminate us.
But as imperfect as we are,
Our God don’t use no erasers.

Perfection is not me.
I’ve never claimed it.
But, He who called me?
Come on. Dude’s on Fleek.
Faithful. Holy.

For me, the level of perfection, is a mixture of annoying and intimidating. But that’s our Nonso John. And he was probably trying to stay simple the whole time. Either way, I, The Niel Quchi, continued the spree at 8:01pm:

I’ve
Long time been a faith fool
Grateful being saved, Dude
Living dead like Voodoo
But I’m just a branch he bears fruit through

And I fall sometimes just like the price of things
When i don’t recall the price of him
But he’s faithful as he’s always been
But he’s faithful as he’s always been

Amen. Very brief and to the point; but then, I wouldn’t say that this followed the topic. Xhika came up next… I forgot that this is not WhatsApp. So, in Christapoet, there is a lady known as Chika St. Davnique. I have to restrain myself from telling you her nickname within CaP. I spell her name with an ‘X’ where the ‘C’ is. Here is St. Davnique at 8:48pm:

I’ve not known many things
The result being many thorns
Many torns
Many turns

The world isn’t ideal you see,
We sea-saw every now,
Again,
Between here and hiding
Between there and finding.

And aren’t we all fake fools?
Confessing ideals but rooted in our reels
Our reals
Our ins
Our inch shallow depths

Aren’t we?
Hoping to high heavens that a faith full God stays real.

Stays reeled in
Riveted on showing us what’s real in us.
Even if we never find real in us.

I’ve not known many things,
But I’ve known Him to be true.
To be ALL, absent none,
Faithful and holy.

Yeah, a testimony of her experience of God’s holiness. Though I feel it is kind of normal to attribute holiness to God, in comparison to poetizing the concept in and of itself. But truly, what better description of Holiness is there than Yahweh himself. I came through again at a minute after 9pm. I remember I was walking to Mindsmith’s house as I wrote this…Yeah, I like to walk and write:

I passed by a guard sitting unguarded;
Who starts life without the One whence life started?
Giving birth in a trance don’t make you transparent
Saying “Apparently” won’t make you a parent
But I think the ball is passed
Textbook poetry is fast
Four lines the structure
If it was on Twitter, who’d follow Instructions

And next was the very beautiful Zoe Ziva. I think Zoe should be at least a year old in CaP by the time of this article. Here she goes, on “Holy”, nine minutes later, at 9:10pm:

First created as dust, with the gene of him who failed, I looked at myself as worthless and the least of righteous like, even if I tried my best to be the “most righteous” it was like a filthy rag?
I gave up!

But before I was through, He tapped me and said He’ll rather be the One to give up His life just so I can be recreated no longer by dust but by Breath(The Spirit)

And He did.
On the cross He whispered “It is Finished”

So there! I was created a new being and Gene, no longer traced to dust but now to The One who recreated me.

So when the devil tried to deceive me telling me I’m not worth it and good enough,
He tapped me to remind me; and all I could hear was:

Faithful, Holy.

I like that her poem spurt was inherently evangelische. I was writing all the whole, in the background, still walking. So at 9:26pm, I wrote:

Up the hill to Smith’s I walk
NEPA’s taken light ofcourse
But i won’t call them unfaithful
Because they get no faith from us

I have found I have tailor my ways
So that nothing takes the time I need for giving him praise
Can you just imagine who was giving us chase
He whose words freestyled ants and milky ways

Would you look at that?! Beautiful right? And at 9:50pm, Eremi struck the last chord of the day:

Yesterday was quite cloudy
It felt like the travelling rain
Decided to stop at my terrain to greet
But it didn’t
Flashes of lightning like swords fight pushed though the thick black clouds
It was an intentional scare I thought
And my thoughts slept with me

Now I’m thinking about it
How is a God whose voice is louder than the thunder speak so softly
That you could hear distinctly in stillness?
I remembered a time
I also wondered what lights really is
You know
Stepping into that flash of light as in the lightning
Light in light?
No shadow of turning?
How is that even possible?
How will light so fill a place
That it will cast no shadow

Hold it! What could Holy mean?
All white, flurry, smells like sweets?
Holy!
Set apart!
Yes, I later learnt what it meant
Separated for the divine
Who is actually The Vine
The one from whom we got our alias – the Branches

I was told that the Vine isn’t just a fruit tree
That it’s a tree that creeps
Better put infiltrate
It takes over
Just give it time
It’s so beautiful that after it’s done with the host
All you can see is vine
Branches faithful to the course
Actually bring forth the fruits
Occupy till I come
For you are a chosen generation
A holy priesthood
They are the ones
That become the Light in the light
The ones that there is also found no shadow of turning
God is light, in Him there’s no darkness
You are of God Little Children
The glory of the vine had made us one
As they are one
Abiding in Him as He is in the Father

How did I start this gist?
I hope it still rains today
Who knows it could make me think of another gist tomorrow.

And that concluded a beautiful session of really nice pieces. What do you think of each poem?

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Zoe Ziva
Chika St. Davnique
Eremi
Nonso John
Neil Quchi

	Jireh Blessing A. on What do you need a map fo…
	Godswill on What do you need a map fo…
	Jireh Blessing A. on What do you need a map fo…
	Godswill on ORDINARY JESUS
	Ay on Gethsemane

Christ a poet

one word at a time

Tag: Holy

Immortal Daughter

Hatching Divinity

Where Opportunity was

The Costs of an Opportunity

A workbook of God discussions (ctd.)

A workbook of God discussions

God Sightings

Holy Fun Stuff

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