Confession

Bless me father for I have sinned,
It’s the…. First in a long time since my last confession.
I come to confess that I have no need for these confessions.
That two thousand years and counting, I accept the new profession.
I confess,
That I accept Jesus as Lord therefore I am no sinner.
I confess,
That sin is now locked up and I am it’s master.
I confess,
That I am blessed beyond a curse, and even on dark days I do not need you to bless me,
You see, Abraham’s blessings are mine.
Therefore I confess,
That I am light to shine in darkness, even in my hard times.
I confess,
That when I fall, I will take outstretched arms and rise again from empty tombs of fleshy desires.
I confess,
That when you fall, dear Padre, I will stretch my arms to hold you up and God help me,
I confess,
I am Christian and therefore in me shall the nations of the earth be blessed.

I confess, dear Sir,
I am not alone,
There is an army of us rising!
So forgive me padre for I have sinned,
This is my first confession in a long time,
I haven’t confessed my confession of Jesus to you till now.

Father, forgive me for I have sinned
I have spat on your face
I have lied, cheated
I have killed myself so many times
The only movie I see is the Edge of tomorrow
The robe you once gave me
I have torn into pieces
A Louie rag I now put on
To slay the daughters of the world
As I feed on the crumbs of their flesh
And quench my thirst with their desires
I have spilled the blood
Of new born babies all over hands
And i have stoned You with my acts of imperfection
And crowned You with my thorns of Mistake
I hope You can forgive me for all these sins,
Cause now, i find myself
Right in the tomb you called me out of….
I hope that came out right,
For i have lost it all

Olaoye Adeleye
St. Davnique
© 2019

The Zone

I crawl, and it’s okay for me
Cause standing tall means I could fall
But then…I will be seeing better while standing
And I could take a step or two for all to see

See, Moses was my comfort zone
I stayed sure with him until he was wrong
Now he’s gone
And I need to be strong
And courageous
And bold

Because that’s what I was meant to be all along
I had been with my 100 sheep
All obedient, no strays attached
But see the wild beast came and took one
So should I go for that lost obedient one
Or stay with the 99
98, 87, 56, 4, 3, 2,1 until I realize that I washed once again, wrong

We mistake mediocrity for moderation and vice versa
We prefer to sleep all day and be obsessed because it’s easy
than to work with our bare hands and buy a new car
No new signs!
And just as water is a good servant and a wicked master so is that comfort zone of yours
For whatever stops moving, starts moving back
And the frog that gets cozy with a warming water, gets boiled in the end

So sit, then crawl, then stand and walk, then look and leap and jump, or fly and soar
Before walking to your new seat really fulfilled
Cause, our sole purpose is to leave our restful zone to our purposed zone
Which is certain to give great comfort,
And It’s cool to work within your comfort zone but know when to leave
Cause there’s more to life than just sitting
Once!
We’re desire to become bold and courageous and strong

Azubuike Chinonso
©2019

Darling

Darling,
You can let me see the whole you,
You can stand bare before me half dark, and still soar if you’ll just let me show you,

I know life has left you stripped of all the things you couldn’t have,
Swept you off your feet from heights you couldn’t dive,
Dared you with shocks you couldn’t nerve,
Will you let me be it’s one slave that wouldn’t serve?

I’ll defy my master and dare to die,
If you will let your hands fall by your sides,
Let not the darkness cause you lie,
Cos I’m all black and still dare to fly,

To our advantage let’s stir the light,
That years from now when we add to age,
We would look back in time a time at dusk,
When unreachable seemed the giant’s tusks,
In a moment of shame and leap at once
we shadowed the form that birthed us,
Darling.

UCtruth

© 2018

WE, THE INDEPENDENT ONES

We are they that ride on the waves,
Of ideas, beautiful manifestos of the 50s,
The very spittle that our mother told us if dried before the 60s,
Our navels would rot,

We are the child born in lies,
A fatherless child of 250 fathers,
A child that reminds our mother of this rape called amalgamation,
The child who is half of everything,
Whose strength should be in being everything,
Yet one thing rules: the cancer of corruption,

We are this child in dependence,
To the blind, senseless man that knew how we were delivered from,
This very deep inferno between our mother’s leg,
We encourage ourselves with hopes in things,
Things our reality tells us can never be,
We are married to Religion,
These new Masters that promise us mansions and virgins when we,
Like the worms, cringe and bow out of this stage,

We are hungry,
Milk and honey we dare not wish for,
Our elder brothers eat honey,
They told us to pray,
If we dared stared too long into his plate, he would slay,
The nascent dream we have,

We are independent,
Masters of our own,
Slaves to our elder brothers,
Who constantly tell us that the rudders will be ours one day,
Yet make their sons our master when,
Need be…..
Happy Independence Day.

Chukwu Simeon Chidiebere
© 2018

CLAD

I have been a gladiator all my life,
Wrestling with both man and beast all these times,
A complexion of my scars,
The door to my mind’s wounds,
I scarcely knew a hero within these black holes,
Far from the skies,

I entertained spectacular foes for audience,
And my evening had unfolding shows that were popular for my trophy pose,
With facades of joy,
After which I was given the raw meat to eat with a glass of some bitterness to sip,
My pride servicing my red eyes,
With lots of grin applause as envy came as a plus,

Death was my inevitable choice,
A sting option, patient for it’s active chance to occur,
And so no matter the wins, the victims, the gifts I gave,
I was yet to please him dead,
I gave my rivals befitting houses of sorrows with my lying arrows as my wrath residues,
No morrows, as my bow bows them into my memories of victory stairs,

See,
I’ve been in this game for so long,
Long before Seth was born as another son ceded,
Playing with my breathe as my life solemn song,
Yet,
I had not gone passed the dawn of game seven,
And this was no Seth’s based ball,

The summer sage started,
When the first boomerang of teenage battle, unlatched my belt and I stumbled into some piles of dirty lies,
My chest cage got broken when I mistook the right turn for the rest, having the same look as the dust after hauling down to the earth,
The crowd’s laughter grew,
As I made futile efforts to move with my trousers down clogging my boots,
This was no goodness of peace running through my restless veins,
It was vain to shield myself from this day waiting to happen,

Finally with just one slingshot,
My hard hat headed off my head,
And I couldn’t think straight,
It was obvious that I was unsafe,
I was the lad who brought a pen knife to a sword fight,
My only gifted weapon passed down from my elder brother who departed before the age of impart,
I could only keep his last statement which was..
One word of believe from,
Your lips and this penknife becomes a sword,

But as I said,
This day with the weeks following it became the years,
I was not thinking straight,
I mean whose youngster would read Eph6:10-17 and relate a thing?
So there I was unclad ,
A master at pleasing my audience,
This misery of mine became a life series served as an appetizer to Death’s main dish,

My only hope was found in two windows
One of which was an opportunity at game seven and the other, my escape plan,
This was the chance, Death never had,
A chance become the hero within these black holes,
A chance to experience the real joy,
All I needed was a new war dress,
To address this life’s mess,
I needed to get my head straight,
To speak out that Living word of believe,
I needed to guard my heart’s cage to decide what was right and just best,
My belt so tight, I would be smart enough to deliver this truth,
My boots ever ready to tell others there could be a new you,
A faith to shield all these armors cause dead men tell no ,tales,

And so here I am,
A gladiator with a different profession,
Fighting man’s spiritual beast,
Casting down every imagination that exalts itself against the knowledge of my new found Truth,
I bleed my penknife into a sword every time I speak,
My confession has been a salvation in deed,
I am the young star who reads Eph6:10-17 and relates even with 18,
Death’s sting option was quiet late,
So whenever I win these daily battles,
I prove that the Truth already had the victory in the war,
And right now, I’m gaining mastery of this course.

Hannah
© 2018