pride – Page 3 – Christ a poet

I have been a gladiator all my life,
Wrestling with both man and beast all these times,
A complexion of my scars,
The door to my mind’s wounds,
I scarcely knew a hero within these black holes,
Far from the skies,

I entertained spectacular foes for audience,
And my evening had unfolding shows that were popular for my trophy pose,
With facades of joy,
After which I was given the raw meat to eat with a glass of some bitterness to sip,
My pride servicing my red eyes,
With lots of grin applause as envy came as a plus,

Death was my inevitable choice,
A sting option, patient for it’s active chance to occur,
And so no matter the wins, the victims, the gifts I gave,
I was yet to please him dead,
I gave my rivals befitting houses of sorrows with my lying arrows as my wrath residues,
No morrows, as my bow bows them into my memories of victory stairs,

See,
I’ve been in this game for so long,
Long before Seth was born as another son ceded,
Playing with my breathe as my life solemn song,
Yet,
I had not gone passed the dawn of game seven,
And this was no Seth’s based ball,

The summer sage started,
When the first boomerang of teenage battle, unlatched my belt and I stumbled into some piles of dirty lies,
My chest cage got broken when I mistook the right turn for the rest, having the same look as the dust after hauling down to the earth,
The crowd’s laughter grew,
As I made futile efforts to move with my trousers down clogging my boots,
This was no goodness of peace running through my restless veins,
It was vain to shield myself from this day waiting to happen,

Finally with just one slingshot,
My hard hat headed off my head,
And I couldn’t think straight,
It was obvious that I was unsafe,
I was the lad who brought a pen knife to a sword fight,
My only gifted weapon passed down from my elder brother who departed before the age of impart,
I could only keep his last statement which was..
One word of believe from,
Your lips and this penknife becomes a sword,

But as I said,
This day with the weeks following it became the years,
I was not thinking straight,
I mean whose youngster would read Eph6:10-17 and relate a thing?
So there I was unclad ,
A master at pleasing my audience,
This misery of mine became a life series served as an appetizer to Death’s main dish,

My only hope was found in two windows
One of which was an opportunity at game seven and the other, my escape plan,
This was the chance, Death never had,
A chance become the hero within these black holes,
A chance to experience the real joy,
All I needed was a new war dress,
To address this life’s mess,
I needed to get my head straight,
To speak out that Living word of believe,
I needed to guard my heart’s cage to decide what was right and just best,
My belt so tight, I would be smart enough to deliver this truth,
My boots ever ready to tell others there could be a new you,
A faith to shield all these armors cause dead men tell no ,tales,

And so here I am,
A gladiator with a different profession,
Fighting man’s spiritual beast,
Casting down every imagination that exalts itself against the knowledge of my new found Truth,
I bleed my penknife into a sword every time I speak,
My confession has been a salvation in deed,
I am the young star who reads Eph6:10-17 and relates even with 18,
Death’s sting option was quiet late,
So whenever I win these daily battles,
I prove that the Truth already had the victory in the war,
And right now, I’m gaining mastery of this course.

Once upon a time, I could talk a plenty. The thing is that I had this phobia for awkward silence, so I always filled in the gap. Yes, I did fill in the silent spaces with just anything, most times with just the most awkward things for the most awkward silence- I know I am talking almost gibberish but you can manage , lol! Other times I just liked to talk because I enjoyed it a lot, hearing myself talk, talk, talk again, get tired and feel guilty later too, lol. You know, one of the deepest forms of worship is fighting for approval, and whosoever’s approval that I seek the most is who I love the most, and whosoever that I love the most is who I worship. The funny thing about seeking man’s applauds is that you don’t worship the man whose applause you sought but you get the applause or want the applause while singing your own praise, giving glory, worship, and honor to your own very self. Most of the times when I talk too much, listening to nobody and nothing else but my own voice, ceasing every piece of a conversation, talking and suggesting myself hoping to get admiration, I merely worship myself. And that very approval of man I never end up getting. Most of the time I am left empty, feeling exhausted for trying so hard and of course getting little because self-worship brings about more worship of self. The emptiness felt is the void created by the sin of idolatry- All glory must go to God. Worship is talking less of self, and more of God. Worship is listening carefully to the words of men just to hear the voice of God lingering and caressing my ears, learning more, talking more again of God at every opportunity and whenever myself is mentioned, it is just to confess allegiance to the King of Kings. That is worship. But why do I keep learning these truths and at every chance I talk with man I see self-worship again? The natural man wants to be like God, I guess. The only time that man can ever and even give me applause is when I have forgotten how to seek their applause because I am busy caring about the validation of Yahweh. This is the time that I really forget about myself and every other man. I can never hear God’s voice in my conversations when I am not busy listening and listening and listening again. When I am busy talking and talking and talking again, I will not know and enjoy the comfort of hearing God’s sweet voice even from the very worst man.
Listening is one way to enjoy the finer things of life. Listeners look more beautiful than talkers- they are not under stress. Listen, and test, and search, and enjoy and listen again. Forget to speak, that is worship and worship is refreshing. “But the hour is coming and now is when the true worshippers will worship the father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him. “ God is Spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”- John 4:23-24 (NKJV). Therefore, I urge you, brothers in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God –this is your spiritual act of worship.
–Romans 12:1 (NIV)

So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath. -James 1:19(NKJV).

By Favour Omeje, 2016