REALITY STRUCK

November 6, 2018November 6, 2018Leave a comment

I was scared, didn’t want to make another promise I wouldn’t keep.
Guilt struck me each time I tried and failed, what was I to reap?

Why such a difficult path?
If He willingly gave His life
Why couldn’t I automatically shine like light?

Well I played smart this time, I had a plan B.
I threw in some eggs, and let some be.

I couldn’t trust the process of “just believing,”
I had seen men die believing this saying.

I carved out an escape route,
I set out plans to activate when I got stuck
And He is no where to pull out my foot.

Poor me,
I was oblivious of the real me.

Saved
Blessed
Blameless and
Spotless

Little did I know what it meant to be saved by grace.
I had no idea what the term “finished works” entailed.

How can believing be termed ‘just’
when it had the power to save the lost.

I found Love in its pure state,
Righteous is now my new state.

Love bought me, and I can never be bought back!

This is about Him, the man Christ Jesus.

The One who loved me when I didn’t know me,
The One who gave His life for me when I hadn’t found me.

The One who swore never to be angry with me,
The One who took guilt and fear away from me.

The One whose Words I can bank on,
The One whose Words I can stand on.

The One who freely gave,
The One who graciously saved.

Imani Dokubo
(c) 2018

I am alive

November 2, 2018November 2, 2018Leave a comment

Mopping moronic in the vacuum
I lie,mocking all memories
That comes to twinkle and die
Hail Mary is over,the Rosary rolls on

I tried reining my violent mind
I struggled holding it back
I resisted the thunder’s clap
And fought against the lion’s roar

But gently it came
The idle voice of the mind
Contaminating the hard beat of the heart
It came so low
So so low as a groan of a dying horse

And that was my last noise
The last push
For hope became unconscious
Falling rapidly upon the vacant floor
Breaking bones, broken ribs

Seven days later the poem is ended
But I looked up to the cross
And see that the stanza runs on
Though all blood is lost,
I am alive.

– UGWU DAVID .C
(c) 2018

Our Love

May 28, 2018May 28, 2018Leave a comment

Our love tale started like soaking cannabis in hot water. I took a sip. You did likewise. The sole of our feet got baptised in this fever that got our tummies beating the African drums. We looked each other in the eyes, we found dark universe surrounded by a red sea. We could see what love is all about; two heads that one is better than. We felt like screaming but the fear that the onlookers would tag us mad forced us into each other’s arm.

You could hear my heart beating. It was not the Jazz you love. My heart made music, the kind Mozart made. You said it made you dull. But that was my whole life. I tried to let my eyes speak volumes of poetry anthologies but all you heard was words poorly knitted. You smiled. Not the type of smile you decorated the sky with the first day I stood before you as a stuttering child, fearful but determined to let you know that butterflies only visit your garden.

I prayed we never recovered from this euphoria. This state of having the moon constantly using our name in the lullaby it is singing. I told of the symphonies composed by the crickets and frogs ( hiding in the near by bush) in our favour. You said I was silly. Not that kind of silly. You meant that I stole your heart with my madness. I was happy. At least, someone has finally got me in the list of men who parade the face of earth with careless abandon of what lips would say. You were the earthquake my soul yearned for.

That was when you told me of a fairy land. I was the ragged prince and you the princess living in a mansion of a castle. You told me that I was the male Cinderella. I agreed. You made me to be born again. It is no metaphor. You turned me to a suckling praying that I will forever remain at your breast…

Our love

May 13, 2018May 13, 2018Leave a comment

Simeon Chidi

RECRUITED

May 11, 2018May 12, 2018Leave a comment

He was one we were not accustomed to
A perfect percentage of divinity
We …never measured up
In our self right-is-us-ness

We made flaws look good and any goodness seemed strange
We did not carry His burden, His fruits we did not bear
We hardly noticed Him much less His signal
Our routine was …”opposed his motion!”
Objection! Was our response to his every witness cloaked with pride

We never crossed his paths, notoriously parallel
As our fatal destinies never had any neon light
But then He, Jesus, the Christ
Bumped into us in humble majesty,
To reveal His pierced hands once again,
In the spiritual court we never attended

Revelations and with mouths ajar

We were paralyzed to Light, stroked by Lightening
We lacked capacity
No, the voltage was high, resistance was fairy tale
As our defense came crumbling in our faces
He portrayed victory as He dashed our hand cuffs to defeat
Change became our routine
As He penetrated our walls
Now we run through troops
Leaping over walls
We, are His sons recruited
An artillery, no rank breaking

We carry a thousand cities in our hand
Ten thousand cities at our right hand
Our bellies, filled with the rivers of the Spirit
We flood these cities
We reveal His love, His kindness, His sweetness
Through Him we can naturally do all things
I mean, He is TDH
Truthful and Divinely Holy
So we, a product of His balanced equation
Were made when the sound of victory was heard
And all we do is to show the papers with His said verdict
Saying….
You have been made free! Reveal Me!!

Azubuike Hannah Chinonso

Reign

May 8, 2018May 9, 2018Leave a comment

Christians clapping for the dusty
Rusty riches reaching for the hearts above, see?
Lust is the new faith, bro
So we aiming for the jet and cash flow, Abraham flow.

Now they’re saying that the ‘Amen’ did it.
Sitting in the new year; still above digits.
Woulda died broke, but am still living.
No I don’t tithe but am still given.
Wives tales wagging, nebios growing.
Up-down pastors, feature lies past us
Talk back at critics like the money is the measure

But all the riches in the world all disappear
Only the Word and those who hold him dear
Will still be here
I dont care which year
The end is a car and the world is a reindeer
I am not afraid, I am certain ’bout my reign dear.
Man’s not cold, whether or not it rain there
By faith I am sure we go reign there.

The Neil

Saved

May 7, 2018May 7, 2018Leave a comment

I like that you wear clothes that keep you warm.
They keep you warm enough so that I can hold you in my arms.
If they didn’t and you were cold I would be afraid I may smother you.
In my struggle to keep you warm and breathing I may smother you to death as cold as itself. It would be a shame. I’m sorry. But I cannot bear to hold you in my arms when you are cold cause I cannot.
If I tried I would override you.
My feet would stretch over your cold feet stroking it so that it yields. I may strike it off totally, knocking your bones off structure. And my arms over yours in a bid to keep them from being cold I wouldn’t stop wiping or swiping until I would have swiped their very skin off. No one would laugh at the funny bones cause they would be dreadful to look at. I’m not kidding.

Your face. My hands wouldn’t stop. In a bid to save it from the cold I’d rub and scratch. Ridding it of every make up or DNA matches. Your chest would be so cold I would stump on it. I wouldn’t take it. Your tommy I would try to fold it to keep it as warm as possible but no I would be tearing it apart. Your back I would try to keep it warm but it would prove too hard I would break it. I would rip you apart. I would reach for your cold, crusted lips. Try to bring it back to life, saliva for saliva, tooth for tooth. I would sweat. But you wouldn’t yield. My want would have drowned you. Stripped you…

I’m glad you wear clothes and they keep you warm. Warm enough for me to hold you in my arms. I love you. And I wouldn’t want to hurt you more than I would want anything else for you. I care that much that’s why I recommend them for you. You may not trust it much but then you would never know how cold you would have been without them. Cause you would be alive, warm and breathing so much so you wouldn’t know what it felt like to be cold. Clothed in your own beliefs, your own defense of yourself, your own pov, everything wears warm about you, from your thoughts on your sleeves down to the socks of articulate speech wrapping the ankles of your feet. And if your body is a house, you’re house warming until your fans have blown the skin of your face such that your lips react by spreading upward on your face like an omelette cooking in a pan.

I like that you wear clothes. They keep you warm and comfortable. I like that because that way, you can smile. But if you were cold, I’d never have access to your mind no matter how hard I scratched. I know that so I’m really glad you wear clothes. I am. Because now I can really hold you without the fear of losing you when what I really want is to keep you.
Signed
Jehovah.

(Let Jesus be the clothes, let the warmth be the love shed abroad our hearts. Rom 5:1-5)

Adaobi