This is War

Battles to be fought

Wars to be won

Knees on the ground

Prayers to the son

Girding on my whole armour

Helmet wrapped in salvation

Shield engraved in faith

Sword spilling fiery words

Shoes dipped in the power of the Spirit

Going in this might

Losing not to naysayers

Victory is mine

For the battle is the Lord’s

Feet deeply rooted

In the finished work of the cross

Seated in heavenly places

To watch a war already won

I fight not with fear or dread

I fight for the greater is in me

I fight ‘cos it’s a good fight

I fight to take what had been mine

I fight to possess what I had been given

I fight ‘cos I had won

I am more than conqueror so I fight!

Oraegbu Philipa Ada

© 2022

Wheat

I have never seen Everson but my brother he is
And he’ll never sin on my scene, never bother with it
Young Charles and the step-fam would be arguing things
But they tried to eat and clean mouth so forked in our things
UC typing with no network
Cast your words and let’s work
Electrifying verses versus, we wrote culture shock
That reminds of Godswill on the LinkedIn thought
When I write nowadays
I’m Kendrick in my brain
When I’m emotional, I’m Drake
I give UC catarrh like Wayne
I should learn to edit
Ed, Edd and Edit
Today I was writing slower, with no beat when I read it
And yet I found no timing like I used to back ’13
I feel the neck of Nonso pendulum-ing in reprimand
I read my counterparts and there’s no doubting, I understand.
No buts about this, discipline, I need to robot; Oh God, the speed is messing with the taste of the yogurt.
Uh
I’ve known the height and yet the might was not the way I reached it
No poltergeist, I’m hunting light and all the ways to reach it
Beyond delight, in day or night, I sought to not be rigid
To please the wise and, like a kite, be gliding high in reason
Back
To
Work
One week of intermittent prayer
Constant in the fact that you will see me there
No foul play, I am not a Layer
The season is for harvest so I’m switching gear
Trousers and Head gears
These were the past cares
And don’t get me started on a vaccines being scares
Plans of the antichrist, I’m laughing past tears
I thought of saying it earlier on my family group
But they’ll call me disrespectful and I’m getting in soup
As long as souls are told the gospel, I am cool with the loop
Light is always gonna win, when it’s dark imma stoop
Make dem no go use me shine, “Sorry” no be control-z
I’ll be studying all that time, Me and Mine be on the beat.
We’ll be praying and researching, from the back to front row seats
Then I’m studio-ing it all, yeah it’s QuChi and the Wheat!!!

Niel
©2021

These Shoes

I wear this spectacles of tinted glasses
I see these golden flashes, rays, colours that sits well with me
I mean these oval screens before my eyes make me see better

I don’t eat on Sundays before solemn services
To eat before paying Him a respect is to belittle him
This spectrum of mine must be what God wants for all men
No frowns or you could lose the crown.

I’m free to give the bible my own voice
It’s no noise, I’m helping God create a community
I mean a village of serious spiritual servants, you know?

My code of conduct is God’s standard
The bible isn’t enough
I make it whole

Symolean
© 2021

DISAPPROVAL OF SAINTS

I used to head to A. G. most Sundays truly
Right until my pops popped in another assembly
Up in Abj, the irreligious allow arch-bars
A friend told me once, never allow wack bars

So I dug into the Spirit
I am in it cause I won it
Shackles made of responsibility
But I dance
Yeah I praise
By God l’mma glorify the Elohim

No need for the pressure or the inhibition
That meat for the idols has become our culture
But all the cattle and the hills are mine in the Lord
I used to cower, now my freedom got my brothers Michael Jackson in disapproval.

The Niel Quchi
© 2020

The Changed Man

Behold all things have become new
and the old lie in a forgotten heap
childish memories of me digging
underneath my bed on a Sunday morning
for where I’d tossed in my old pair of shoes
nowadays the changed me keep them up neatly
on a rung of wooden stiles the carpenter calls a shoe rack

Bible sleeps on a bedside stool
for a constant bath in Holy words I reach
across to it as often as I go
drink in words that lead, that guides
same letters in the book, a new meaning on the morrow

I remember mom’s narration on Joseph
please tell Dolly Parton
I share same story with her Coat Of Many Colours
only I took mine to many tailors
at the price of my chopped sandal soles
shoes on worn out feet
grazing gravelled road as they bleed
thank God, praise God I sing
because no longer do I handpick rags
all I see are tailor-made suits
my wardrobe is a rainbow of clothes
none having no holes

Nonetheless what I have outgrown is
the filthy old man inside of me
that cheated at elementary school
and purloined mum’s ten kobo
when she was busy at the hearth
One day aunt Betty suffocated my wrists inside mum’s purse
and gave me her two kobo
number eight of the decalogue says, ”Thou shalt not steal”
I hear you ma, my heart thumps with complete remorse
Tell that to the birds, coo that to baby lions
Whisper that in the ears of insensitive politicians
and the starved masses reaping where they did not sow
maybe they’ll pause then retrace their steps
and make way for the new experience.

Rebekah E.
© 2020

At Your Feet

Here at your feet
Consider me yours Lord
Laying past, present and future
Laying my life down to live yours

Here at your feet
Alone with nowhere else to go
In company of the Saint
For here i will worship
Waiting to be strengthened
Give me your patience
Your peace to be complete
Far above every defeat

Here at your feet
Where I’m all yours
And you are mine
Where my thoughts are of you
And my faith is made complete
Forever yours
Far out on the horizon above the bay
Above principalities and power
Free from the world
Clothed in your glory
Where I dwell and all is well
Even with my soul.

David Gospel
© 2020