We built houses
with an even mix of mud and imagination
our hands were soiled, our eyes were bright
we smiled our teeth missing but our joy complete
we laughed, our sound a symphony of disjointed, pointless happiness
we knew no shame, so we knew no bondage
our childishness was our charm
our naivety, our glory
but glory, like a flower
fades.
Damaris Akhigbe
©2021
We don’t want to bother God
Says man made of mud
So we bottle up what we ought not
Leaving our mind in knots
You receive not for you ask not
What to pray about you say?
All things my brother, so you don’t become a prey
Everything my sister, on every blessed day
So Unfriend anxiety
Cast away its ray
Put on Christ’s piety
And your armor of faith
Whatever it is
Grand or small
Possible, impossible
Serious or minor
Pray about them all
Yes! In all things by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving…
So go on your knees
Lift up those hands
Put your hands together
Lie flat on your tummy
Stand on your feet
Sit on the floor
Whichever position you choose, just shut out the noise
Surrender all
Cast it to God
Receive His rod
Believe it’s done
Make a loud noise
Wait till it comes
Ajegbomogun Olufunke
©2021
Common! Toot a pair
Grabs a mic,
My praise is double or nothing when I’m on air
Like Cerelac
I feed babies from what I’m made of
Like a fed’s baby I am made tough
So I come and toot a pair
my fingers form an equilateral triangle
To a king who sits in air
And knows the details of the Bermuda triangle
Singing praises from Lagos to Cincinnati
I’mma do
The Lord’s been making shapes way before the Illuminati
When you’re sick
who do you seek?
The light or dark end? Rahl!
Legend has it
That since the days of the mud seats
Before Harry thought to porter
And Zeddicus Z’ul Zorandered
Beyond the days when knights sat on round tables
And a king listened to a Sorcerer that was mere lean
He gave breath to a mud thing
And remixed an eye from a mud spit
Some people poke at God
Yeah, poke him on
‘Strike me dead if you’re real’
Or I choose to shun!
Same Niggaz having problems choosing what shoes to put on
God laughs and tell them Pick a shoe first
Pokemon.
Choosing God isn’t really a fair choice
it’s cheating
I’m siding with the one who knows how to get a heart beating
Who knows how to take a beating
How to die and still come back with a naming
JESUS!!!!
And the whole mountains came down before me, caving.
You have a chance to cheat legally
To spend your life being fed with epiphanies
Getting glorified in sense mehn, install mentally
Peter leaves a clue to you
You’ll surrender your life too if you only knew
That being dead in Christ
Is a sure way to slay in eternity
For your worth just keeps increasing like the price of a bag of rice. Eternally
Uc Truth
(C) 2021
I pick my words carefully,
Just like picking white beans amidst the brown
I search for my words carefully,
Just like searching for diamonds in the mud
For words can hurt and draw some hate
Words can destroy and finely create
Words can bring life and can bring death
Words can bring courage and can bring fret
Words fire faster than the ‘bullet full gun‘,
Can murder the next man with a bulletproof vest
My tongue is an organ full of ferocious words,
Always ready to unleash terrifying thorns
Like a sword it can slice, divide and tear down
At times i wonder if this red demon can be dismantled, restructured, redesigned, painted with grace and seasoned with salt to speak positively
I’ve come to realize that whatever I say can become a self fulfilling prophecy
My words can either lift me or drift me,
Raise me or erase me,
Words can liberate and can oppress
They can cause to blossom and can suppress
My words are the most powerful weapons that I posses
My word is power!
Princess Pirinye
©2020
A band of butcherers chant,
As they drag crying sheep through,
Smashed rocks and dirt clouds,
Swarming, to slaughter point,
Its fluffy coat sheds, to mingle,
With mud puddles and grim slime,
It swims in darkened blood,
And sways, to torturers’ feet stomping,
As shredding skin paints the path,
To the altar, with red hue,
A portrait of life takes shape:
Suffering, to death,
But if through its last cries,
It sees losing self could be worship,
It’ll fall, to paint its dying as,
Living worship to God, “Sacrifice Infinite”.
Ikenna Nwachukwu
© 2018
Christ a poet 