Tag: Pair

Back To Basics

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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

The Changed Man

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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

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL – Part 1

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The most beautiful girl my experience taught smiled at me today
It has been a long class and I thought I was following till that smile
I have myriads of questions but I fear my mates might have a comic relief
So I try moving my shivering lips apart in an attempt to smile back
My grades are average so why the warmth in her smile?
My grades are average so I must be missing something a brighter student can point out
Soon after class, a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see a pair of joy-flooded eyes
I can’t hold her gaze, my legs are trembling and I have a sudden urge to pee
I sit down, clamp my legs together with my hands between them
She seem to notice my discomfort so she pulls out my hand and holds
“What have I got myself into”, I think
Without mincing words she tells me she likes me and would want a friend in me
On the 3rd attempt at trying to talk and not recognizing my voice
I clear my throat and all I can mutter is ‘okay’
I could change classes and routes and never see her again but she has other ideas
She walks me home, my palm in hers
With each laughter and chatter, I feel at home
She tells tales too beautiful to be true about herself;
Describes her thoughts of me in ways my exposure has not afforded my imagination
I unpack boxes I leave packed because I was always on the move
Now I am home

ChyD
© 2019