Tag: Mountain

Mustard Burial

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God’s man ultra—Faith staying mustered
Happy ever mountain, started out mustard
Blood flow thicker than a bucket of custard
Not once a month but all the months
With just a touch
—the tale of man is turned
Into a testimony
Resting on the—
Words of Yahweh on me.
Working out delight with trembling,
Shaking out the doubt and trusting Him.

I—
Am more surrendered
And flesh gets murdered
I saw that sample in the Son of Man
—saw that apple but I dodged her hand
Some trust apps but I trust the lamb
We die so that we can live on brand

Godzniel
© 2025

God or Yourself?

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Who told a lie
God or yourself,
You’ve been told
You could fly

If your heart masters
The art,
To be still and just
Fly.

Who told a lie
God or yourself,
Since your wings
Soar not

And your head
Lift not,
Who told a lie
God or yourself
For the mountains that
Move not,
And the storms that cease not
For the wealth foretold

And the beautiful future
Unseen,
For the health promised and
And the peace assured
For every promises
Unfulfilled,
And every delay suffered
SUE YOUR UNBELIEF. 

Ebubechi
© 2024

THE WORLD’S OLDEST LIBRARY

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The oldest library in the world still exists!
Somewhere on earth
Not destroyed by moths
All bricks still the same
As they were laid
No cracks or breaks
As would’ve have been
When strong winds of
The mountain form
A two-fold force with
The tricks of time.

All of its pillars seem to
Have sworn an oath
To remain forever young
With the strong posture of the
Past well seen in our
Contemporary time
No not one worn out
By age.

The oldest library in the world still exists!
It’s roofing sheets of steel
Still shiny and rust free

Well-aligned to another
With tight screws like
A rogue held captive in
Hunter’s camp.

Unmovable it is
Incredible were those men
Of which it was said
They continued the construction
Based on the ASSIGNED DESIGN


The unfinished work of
Christ they took to many
Heights while they endured
For many nights the pains
Of haters crew

A pack of sovereign Jews
Devoted to religious doings
Committed to put their
Works to a stop.

The oldest library in the world still exists!
An architectural design
Housing 66 hefty books
In both shelves
Old shelves with uncracked
Scrolls waiting for someone
To stroll in
Take a walk and have a
Good read.

The oldest library in the world still exists!
Not in the woods
Or some interior zones
Oblivious to all.

Ebubechi
© 2023

An awful conclusion

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To falter is an option to be ignored right there when spurred.

But leaves an ‘I don’t care nod‘ instead of a step.

Air has made the balloon fatter while past failures still lurks around.

Know that purpose is a deep water.

Understanding will lure the fountain within not you standing so sure you have a brain to count on, with conscious efforts of kneeling be ready to birth a mountain.

“Where was that brain of yours when comfort zone stole time and left you pained?”

“Where was your brain when the added weight kept altering every step you took to catch up with the train?”

“Where was your brain when the candle within was quenched and you were drained?”

An awful conclusion it is, one propelled by absence of Divination.

The altar needs fire not water. Farther will age read unless a retreat is called.

The altar needs consistency not a ‘once in a blue moon visitor.’

The altar needs to be mobile not cold because the author won’t speak until visiting becomes hourly even though tagged odd

The altar will draw so much and won’t tire when on fire!

– Ebubechi
(c) 2021

THE C.V.

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The sparrow’s songs. The jackal’s laughter.
The lion’s roar. Eve’s allure.
Adam’s strength.
One string through them all.
I am the one in all.
I am.
Me.

I’m the greatest artist of all time
Way before Shakespeare conceived Juliet
I had you in mind, my Jewel, yet
Unlike Juliet and her Romeo
My romantic tales with you end with no woes.

I am Lover. I am Writer.
Warrior drenched in blood and sand.
Ten thousand chariots, one rider. Me.
I created light. I am Light Himself.
Within, outside, and beyond time.
I am.

Stand in awe before me. Beauty Himself.
Most Amazing. Most Intelligent. Most High.
I am the One who was, who is,
Who always will be jealous for you.
I just am.

Notice.
That organ beating beneath your rib cage?
It sings my praise.
Each and every breath you take
Is a testimony to my genius. No tease.
And when a strand of your hair falls, I notice.
Note this.

I am the grandest musician ever
See, I set your heart beating
And those strings that play each time you blink
I made those long before
Beethoven ever played Duh Duh Duh Duh!

Duh!
For you, I am haven.
For your problems, I’m a monster.
I’m your most primal craving.
Though you know it not.

Forget Ali. I’m the greatest.
I call into your depths. And you answer.
I cancel your debts.
I destroyed your death.
I’m the depths

With a staff, I divide seas.
Dry rod flowers. Ax floats on water.
The bulldozer. I am.
When I nod, the mountains melt.
The seas? They flee when I breathe.
I do the impossible.
I am impossible.
I am.

I am.
I touch your tongues, and you spit flames.
I make you hot. Make you look hot.
But if you’d rather look warm
Then out of my mouth will I spew you.
Who’re you kidding?
I took the punishments due you.
I call many. Choose few. You.

I am.
I’m Tsidkeneu. I make you new.
I am Creator. Crazy Romantic.
I am Theos. Yah’owah. The Vyevo-Vyavo.
The Lily – not of the valley, cos I made those too.
I’m the Lily. Period.

I am.
I am the beginning. I am the end.
I am each and everything between zero and infinity.
The infinite. The without-which-not.
I am not just God. I’m also the Just God.
The God of justice. The God that just is.

I am.
Yahweh. Shaddai.
Omniscient. Omni-knowing.
Omni-sabi.
Na only Me sabi as e dey do you.

I. Am. God.

Nonso John
© 2019

TANTRUMS

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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