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 family?
More than pain, did bring relief…
or was pointing fingers the point of hands?
The Niel
©2020
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?
The Niel
©2020
Behold!
What is ahead beyond all holds
A glory not far-fetched
With a little-more stretch
Behold, Courageous and be bold
As you trend this road
Again! do NOT be told
Of the whale-sized Mack on the road
Along the aisle
Never give yourself to wine
Never bargain your mirror with Mammon
Unto the higher calling-press on!
Standards will rise
Beat up your wings: fly high
When ye fall
Let the strong man stand tall strong
Remember Christ graced your weaknesses
Even in the bashings, crashing and crushing
Take His word ever-bracing
That your bones be strengthened!
Remember Christ the song
For the lost but found
Your help to come
With whom is NO doubt
And upon His wings, you shalt mount
Beloved! in all
Beyond my beseeching lyrics
Rhymes, structures and schemes
Guard up your heart against all ill-schemes
Flee from vices
Against the fears eyes could see
Let not your heart be as the wavering boat on the sea
To your Samson, guard against Madame-disguises
Selah!
Tunde Micheal
© 2019
I am the music
The rhythm that moves to no beat, moves to a silent fear, a fear that the music will stop
My body is rhythm –
Looking for an opening, a scar to let this bottled up angst and terror move to the beat
Wait, what beat?
-The fast, irregular, jarring leaves my hands in the air, my mouth in my heart
I’m flailing, a lost soul in an abyss
The music is spikes, needles in my brain, insanity comes, slowly, silently, holding breath, holding life
The music is ice, freezing time, freezing me –Limbo
I pause the music and I’m still, no breath, no life, still
I press play and I’m the wind
The last beat holds my breath
I don’t want to let go
If I press replay, can I stand this, again?
IfiokAbasi Okop
©2019
Christ a poet 