The Mortal Man’s Dialogue

October 30, 2020November 4, 2020Leave a comment

Leaving behind all I’ve labored for under the sun
This body of mine has been subjected to much pain and torture
Would it be ready to leave this earth during the rapture?
Or just someday in the future?

Would I be on His right side or the other side?
Would it be a day of joy or tragedy?
That day, I would have to give an account of all my activities
All that would matter would be judgement Cause all of my possessions would matter no longer

Then the mortal me will become immortal
And the imperfect me would have a chance to become perfect
But if I be judged by what I deserve
Then there wouldn’t be need for judgement cause my heart’s already filled with guilt

But by virtue of His grace
I’ll strive for the good confession while on earth
Cause by it my sins are cleared without a trace
Boldly I can now come to His throne of grace
And I will keep sharing my salvation story
That though I had fallen short of His glory
Christ in me will forever be my hope of glory.

Victor Clement
© 2020

Either/or

July 23, 2020October 12, 2020Leave a comment

There is pain
that reminds us
or numbs us

There are tears
that trace our laughter
or echo our heart’s shatter

There is change
that gives our faith freedom
or bankrupts our teething hope

There are lines
For a life you can have in Jesus
or a life on your own terms

– Ezeonyeka Godswill
(c) 2020

Take My Hands Instead

June 25, 2020June 25, 2020Leave a comment

One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020

Rape Rep

June 17, 2020June 22, 2020Leave a comment

I represent the biggest scums of the century.
I represent one of the greatest threats to women globally.

Your body is already a beautiful battlefield. A rose with thorns torn apart by it’s blueprint. It is not enough that your body cries rose-coloured tears monthly, some members of my gender have turned your pores into drawers for stashing away years of frustration. Tiny portals of escape, from which they seek prison-breakthroughs. Scofielding along your orchards, fuelled by animalistic passions.

Do something
That’s what I’m trying to say
Show me I am worth the pain, give me hope to a fault; tell me life has a meaning

That’s what I read in your diary
I am what you blame for dying, greet
One of the biggest
scum in existence
Women, they fear me
My favourite victims
…Men mostly in prison.
I am traumatizing

We’ve got a new brand for the parents
Comes with the power to pay rent
Found out I am recycling
Let’s leave the topic quietly
I’ve come from an old day
People started that way
Ignoring any volition
But theirs, until…

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
Niel Quchi
© 2020

WILL YOU BE?

April 4, 2020April 4, 2020Leave a comment

The trickle of salted water
Opened up the flood gates of its tap
The fiery gaze of hurt and pain
Like boiling blood
Will you be the hands to wipe off?

The bleeding of the shape I call love
The grief of the cut in two
The loss of the pieces fixed to it
Will you be the one to mend?

Like stones hurled at one
The weight you can’t bear
The pricks it leave behind
Of fear, of poor esteem
Will you soothe my ears?

Steps higher steps above
In doubt and fear
With skills but no grit
Will you be the one to urge on?

My love my perfect
Imperfectly perfect
Frail, grace and calm
Will you hold my hand?

When my eyes are covered with fear
And my hands quiver in despair
When my Feet drown in doubt
Will you be my Anchor

When the day wears a black gown
And the Sun refuses the smile
Hiding the face of the moon
Will you be the voice hope?

Oraegbu Philipa Ada
Olaoye Adeleye
© 2020

Lasisi gaping sticker

February 25, 2020February 27, 20201 Comment

When I’m dead and my tombstone is among the press,
More than fame, did I hug the pressed?
More than religion, did I know deep rest
Or just live with my mouth open…
Never having enough?

Will they say I was circular, just because I circulated?
Will they call me gospel, because I mostly showed up in church clothes?
More than famzing, did I have a family?
More than pain, did I bring relief…
or was pointing fingers the point of my hands?

LAUGH

November 14, 2019November 14, 20191 Comment

Laugh, when your feet is aching
When your heart is breaking
When life storms seems to make your faith shaken.

Laugh, deeper than your pain
Louder than your fears
Laugh for he has taken your cares
and his joy is yours to gain.

Laugh, smile, jump and dance
Spare not these worries a second glance.
Laugh for your strife was won by his stripes
Laugh and let victory be forever your stance.

Laugh…

Golden Boy

November 6, 2019November 11, 2019Leave a comment

One step in front of the other
I watch you plant them
Like a weary traveler who has lost his way
Your back is burdened with a sack full of disapproval
And a lifetime’s worth of disappointment and doubt
But you shoulder it like it’s nothing
You smile at me, golden boy
And make me believe there is beauty to
The cracked burden of the tortoise

You’re just a little eccentric
I tell myself, every time I catch a glimpse of your pain
I believed I could heal you
You made me believe I was,
And I trudged behind you gladly
Cherishing every moment you put the pack down
And opened it.
But you never got rid of anything in the pack, did you?
I think you loved the sweet torture
Of owning exquisite pain
I learned to appreciate the beauty in pain
And see the hope dressed in disappointment

So I did nothing
Till you slipped right off the edge
And scattered in a burst of gold dust
Slapping my face with the truth I should have seen
had your beautiful, golden smiles not blinded me;
That I had no power to make you happy
That love could be as strong as pain
Or could be its equal

So as I stand at the edge of your cliff
I want to hate you
But I don’t
I will remember us as we were
And I will choose to be happy, golden boy
For both of us, I will choose life.