Letter to a beloved brother

Behold!
What is ahead beyond all holds
A glory not far-fetched
With a little-more stretch

Behold, Courageous and be bold
As you trend this road
Again! do NOT be told
Of the whale-sized Mack on the road

Along the aisle
Never give yourself to wine
Never bargain your mirror with Mammon
Unto the higher calling-press on!

Standards will rise
Beat up your wings: fly high
When ye fall
Let the strong man stand tall strong

Remember Christ graced your weaknesses
Even in the bashings, crashing and crushing
Take His word ever-bracing
That your bones be strengthened!

Remember Christ the song
For the lost but found
Your help to come
With whom is NO doubt
And upon His wings, you shalt mount

Beloved! in all
Beyond my beseeching lyrics
Rhymes, structures and schemes
Guard up your heart against all ill-schemes

Flee from vices
Against the fears eyes could see
Let not your heart be as the wavering boat on the sea
To your Samson, guard against Madame-disguises

Selah!

TMsungs
© 2019

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Lies At Dawn

Without the stars appearing on a special
Night, the Angels singing sweet solemn innocent
Tones, jingles, praises to the mean
World that has seen eons
Of pains, love, gratitude, rejections that overwhelmed
Beauties and ugliness we see as tittle and nominal

I wish to be etched in your heart not as a nominal
Singer, but the beat you call special
The sound that leaves you overwhelmed
Our eyes a spark note of innocent
Thoughts that deified us eons
And mortals who are not mean

Men whose inclinations are mean
Can’t even have us as nominal
gods, but great fellows who are eons
Away from their realms. The one they’d call special
Species of rare grace; innocent
Warriors whose tales gets them overwhelmed

Though life may try to get us overwhelmed
It will never make us mean
Or rid us of the innocent
Company of the earthlight that is not nominal
Or make the moonlight serenade less special
Though it has romanced spirits for eons.

We seem to be overrated eons;
Cowered, callously, carefully overwhelmed
Lovely, little, lowly beings called special
Lower than the angels’ mean
Myrmidons, to the paladin nominal
Praying to be seen as innocent

But words cannot be innocent
We are actually eons
Beings that can never be nominal
Beings grave, gentle griefs overwhelmed
In their search of mean
Means of becoming special

To be as innocent as saint Simeon
The special eon that dwells
In this mean tent.

Simeon Chidi
©2019

TANTRUMS

Birds sing, we hear chirpings
We built our castle on hopes
Poke fingers into the face of Goliaths.
Sands still stay as our foundation
Flooding our flickering fluid imagination
With the feelings that we could dethrone the gods
Then ramble, raze down the mountain with our tongues
We smile sweetly, seeing how weak we made things with our whining
Boxing, branding, and buying their little conscience
With our endless fits

Chukwu Simeon Chidiebere
© 2018