N.Y.S.C

July 15, 2021Leave a comment

When corruption becomes
The pest eating the plantation
Of our nation
And compromise is the only meal
Served as your last option
STAND OUT!

When your altar is shattered
Battered and scattered
And the only way to subscribe to their Data
Is to denounce the name
Of your Father or they use
Your head for a slaughter
STAND OUT!

Let your heart beat this
Let your mouth spit this
For a life without Christ
Is a life of stasis, Vices, Lysis
And Crisis

This is who we are
Nigerian youths serving Christ…..N.Y.S.C
We are pressed on every side
But not crushed
Perplex but not in despair
Persecuted but not forsaken

We are unbeatable, Unstoppable, Un-daunt-table, undefeatable
This is who we are
A city set on a hill
Marked with a seal
Love is our will
No matter the kill
Christ is the REAL DEAL

Don’t you ever forget this
THIS IS WHO WE ARE!

King Uwe
©2021

The Resistance

June 8, 2019August 19, 2019Leave a comment

Pieces of inspirations, stored in procrastination,
Has done nothing to the well being of achievements.
It doesn’t get the job started either does it get it done.
It just lies there closer to you.
Making you feel awesome like you can touch the sky.
Meanwhile, you only spy into the future using your imaginative sense.
And you taste the savor of greatness without getting a chop of the meal.
You will never start until ready starts going.

@adethatwrites
©2019

Fry-day

April 26, 2019May 8, 2019Leave a comment

Last night, i got laid
Doubt came to me in my dreams
And had an intercourse with my mind
I am five months gone
Carrying these thoughts around
Hoping to abort this abomination
So, let me break open my insecurities
Hoping to make an omelet
Because today is fry-day

Shots fired
Fear has breathed its last
I am shut fire
Ready to explode at last
This is suicide
I die to rise, call it Easter
Fear skews sight
Jesus fixed it, Bethsaida

I love a meal of eggs,
Egg-xactly omelets.
The way we can whisk two together or maybe more,
Like the intercourse of minds, like the grind of spirits.
And isn’t beautiful, the wet and slip of waters, the freshness like a new day, the way it all becomes familiar and new?
As we sit at tables set before enemies ,
Fellowshipping with sips of living tea and chewing bread alive, making alive,
That the omelet served is faith, the abortion to every doubt.
Isn’t it beautiful, the sparks that fly as iron sharpens iron, and ideas are born for the time they arrive?
Don’t you just love a meal of omelets?