Kings and Pawns

“We’re all Kings and Pawns,”
Napoleon Bonaparte once said,
“We’re all Emperors.”
“We’re all Fools.”

Funny he should say that.
We, like two Kingdoms, square up.
Blacks against Whites.
Decisions. Decisions.

What’s in your hand, sir?

King Pawn to King Four.
Small beginning steps we take
Believing we’re each of us
The only star in our own movie.

But Knight to Queen’s Bishop Three.
Counter moves from counter selves
We sabotage our own efforts
And wonder what’s afoot.

We’re all Kings and Pawns
Though each man in his own heart
Thinks himself different from all.
Superior to all the human-ness.

What’s in your hand, ma’am?

When Bishop takes Bishop,
And we face our true desires
We all deny our deepest truths
For Ego’s sake, for Pride’s joy.

What miserable life we lead
As we approach our end-games
This chessboard cleared of all
And the space evident in all things?

Queen to King’s Rook Three.
Discover Check. And trouble finds us.
Run we may, but hide we can’t.
Now matter where we turn to.

What is this you have in your hand,
Oh fallen man – son of Eve?
What is this you carry in your heart
Oh, daughter of the damned?

If King takes Knight Pawn,
I hope never again will it be said
That we sought for what we knew not
And that all man listened to his own heart.

We’re all Kings and Pawns,
A man once said to the world.
And he – that brilliant devil – he was right.
We’re all – all of us – Emperors. Fools.

Ask not what Mgbeke plans for dinner.
Wonder not when Mgbafo will get married.
What’s in your hand, people of God?
Mind your own business.

Nonso John
(C) 2021

Back To Basics

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

Praises To God

Lift up your voices oh ye earth and let the sound of your praises reach the heavens
Sing like birds on a bright sunny morning and let the wonders of God be known to all.
Raise instruments in worship
Beat the heavy drums and play the flutes, let them testify to the King of kings.

Let your voices rise to the roof tops, overpowering even the strongest of walls, let the earth be shaken by the sound of rejoicing to our God.
Sing, with all your might. Shout, with all your heart and let all hell quiver with fear of our testimonies.

Praise the Lord!!!!


Edet Isiting
© 2021

John

There was a man who came from God.
His name was John.
He wandered through the wilderness
With nothing on.

He ate whatever crossed his path,
The desert’s gifts,
He never bathed; he had no friends,
Just relatives.

He was a cousin of Our Lord
Through his mama,
And learned the Prophets and Torah
From his papa.

When God told him the time was ripe,
He left his cave,
And went down to the riverbank,
His soul to save.

He preached the coming Kingdom,
Then, full of grace,
He knew the true Messiah when
He saw his face.

“It is my cousin, Jesus!” said he,
In wild surprise,
As Jesus gazed at him with
Burning eyes,

He heard, “This is the end of the
Beginning and
The beginning of the end,
My friend.”

Pamela Urfer
© 2021

The Bleeding Heart

The blood she shed was all her own.
She’d found no way to staunch the flow
For twelve long years.
The cost to her in doctors’ care
Was nothing to her shame and her enormous fears.
Unclean and thus untouchable
She knew she’d live and die alone in blood and tears.

The world had turned its back on her
And all she saw and all she touched was tinged with red.
Denied the right to worship God,
Denied the Temple courts by law, her soul was dead.
Denied all comfort, love of friends
And touch of man, she kept alone her blood-stained bed.

Her last hope lay in this new man,
But with her touch she’d make him, too, unclean, outcast.
And should she even hope for help?
Of all the people God might heal she was the last.
For it was God who sent the curse,
The blood and shame, the loneliness, through Laws He passed.

In spite of all these doubts and fears,
Mistrust of God, she took her chance – a touch unseen.
Then, Jesus, the untainted, changed the Law to Love.
Her world became new, fresh and green.

The blood He shed was all his own,
And flowing down it covered her and washed her clean.

Pamela Urfer
© 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

Tamed Fire

I was fire.
Burning for everything compatible with my flame,
A furious force blazing to the tunes of the wind.
I was fire.
Feeding flesh it’s wild cravings, basking in the heat of ecstasy,
With traces of ashes and desolation.
I was fire.
Burning without apology for everything but God.
It’s true, I was once the fire,
But now I’m gold.

Imani Dokubo
© 2020

FALLEN AT HIS FEET

I carry no fear on my shoulders
I have saved no teardrop to shed
I have left every iota of worries

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Worries? They have no rooms in me for rent
Harmony, peace and joy cram the whole story
Every other issue is backstory

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Backstory is a tale of yesterday
I spend time now swimming in God’s love
Waves of pain, illness and disease are

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Disease of the Egyptians shall not know me by name
Cancer is a raging empty threat
Hunger and starvation their powers rid

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Rid of gory garments and pierced sides
Christ rose in glory with fierce strides
Armed soldiers strapped with sleep

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Sleep in the arms of a loving mother
Tomorrow the fever with shudder
Because all the bugs in a million march lie

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

March, march on Christian soldier
Relieved of every burdensome weight
Tomorrow is certain, today is fixed, last night is
Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Rebekah E.
© 2020