Dear stranger

Dear stranger,
Do not hold down your doubt, your anger,

Life is no ordinary poem,
With lines, stanzas and rhymes,
Life is no ordinary Odyssey,
With storms, fear and courage,

‘No’ your breath is more,
Breath of life is more than,
a poor poem, a poor journey,
And so I say,
Let the apparition show,
Let the street overflow,
With the words of psalms,
May the words of proverbs,
And Matthew fly across your mind,

But please dear stranger,
Do not restrict your doubt, your anger,
Let them challenge the Psalm,
And proverbs and all,

And when your inner man is ready,
And your reasonable war over,
Throw away all the broken armors,
Of doubt and anger and sit still,
For awhile by the river,

For I am the crown, the king,
The light, the peace,
The truth, life eternal,
In me every road,
Leads the way home,

Dear stranger,
Do not resist your doubt, your anger,
But come, follow me.

Ugwu David C
© 2018

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Keep moving

It’s deadly, It’s dangerous,
Was purely invented to endanger us,
It may not seem so now, but don’t forget,
It’s real,
And like a diabetic sore it doesn’t always heal,
A scary arrow we should beware of,
It’s a tranquilizer that takes years to wear off,
It keeps you there,
Trapped in illusions of self satisfaction,
Smeared with delusions so you shelf you actions,
It leaves you bare,
And freed from the hustle we all tread,

Your life becomes a repetition of hard lies,
You raised the stakes, laze, pride, your new allies,
Quick to gloat,
Mr Ambassador for past glory, enemy of growth,
You continue everyday in this same place,
“I’ll do it later” is your super phrase,
But you are in the race,
Moving on and nowhere with zero pace,

To Grace, you become yesterday’s testament,
Of shame, you adorn today’s garment,
Of Hope, you are tomorrow’s predicament,
Oh fool! when will ye be wise? Proverbs asks,
Baba doesn’t need a curriculum vitae to endorse us,
If not our sins would make a pretty bad CV,
So don’t hold back,

Take a step forward from where you are,
Take a swing upwards to raise the axe,
The laborers are few,
And that includes you,
Because the sharpest if abandoned becomes blunt,
And if you are useless another He’ll appoint,
Remember, It’s a race,
And you are not running if you remain at a point.

Erudite
© 2018

S.H.E

Maya Angelou said she knew why the caged birds sang;
Well, I know something else,
I know why the virtuous woman remains a legend,
A fictional character of sorts,
She is the dream and goal of a young lady’s heart,
The epitome of indefatigable femininity,
We are told as soon we care to ask,
Yet she is trapped in the sands of history,

She is impeccable and all we must aspire to
And even before we start to allow our clay into the Potter’s wheel,
We know innately that we will never be her,
We will never be good or enough,
She is our adult version of Wonder Woman,
Good for stories and such….but only such,
Never moving beyond the Kodak pages of scripture,
That so perfectly capture her…

She is safe,
She is healed,
She is empowered,
She spells the word SHE,
And puts the definition in the word woman,
So she stays a legend,
We believe her to be with no knowledge of bitter or ugly,
She is eternally too good,
Not as soiled as we are…..

Now listen,
I come to dispel the faux,
That the virtuous woman is one with no past,
No scars and no torn dresses,
I write as one who was once like you,
And now is becoming She,

I dare to proclaim,
Little miss goody two shoes wasn’t always so little,
Her tush shoes weren’t always so good nor did she choose speech,
That sparkled with grace,
Her dress wasn’t always pristine nor her reputation divine,
Her hands were bloodied once,
Same blood cried out to God for justice,

And there were men buried deep in her scars,
The ones on her back and at the back of her mind,
Her innocence was raped off…by the clammy hands of life,
Call her Gomer, Tamar, Rahab or Mary….
She wears different faces in different places,
United in essence by the sameness of her struggles,

I hear she met Someone,
I hear Someone met her at the well,
Offered her water to quench the never ending inferno in her soul,
I hear Someone cast out her seven demons,
I hear she was bent over, broken and dying of silence,
Yes, the same Someone held her hand and commanded death to
‘ Loose her and let her go! ‘
And just like that,
This domitila from hell becomes the angel of proverbs 31.

I dare say she has a past,
Why else does she work so hard,
Funny thing is, she not trying to outrun it,
No,
She stands at her window on the wall, and waves a scarlet thread,
Her house is on the rock, the only unbroken part of the wall,
She runs to tell you to run,
Run!!!

Come, taste and see a Man who has told me all about myself,
Who evicted the demons and filled in my souls blank spaces,
And if only you drink of His water,
This need not be your present,
I need not be a legend….
Hear her voice echo over the horizon of history…..
‘You too can become S.H.E!!!’
Safe, Healed, Empowered,
Now ask me how,
My simple whisper….Jesus.

Chika Chikeka.
© 2018

GENERATIONS

I have really wise friends
I have really smart friends
And then I have these other friends. These ones I don’t know how to classify them.

For when you hear their thought process, you will wonder if this part of the body called a brain is vestigial in some animals.
When they utter words, you automatically want an occupation with hammers for every thing they say make you want to break their head.

But then I got to thinking;
6 years,
10 years;
200 years from now and these same ‘not so senseless’, poor in making decisions, and utterly tiring friends of mine would be known as ‘the ancestors’
A status men will begin to idolize.

I see us use a whole lot of our mind’s compartment to believe things that were told to us by people who couldn’t figure out simple things, I mean, some of the very learned of them actually argued that the earth was flat, like a table.

Hollup!

I am not even talking about the unlearned ones from your villages that birthed those you now call grandpa. Just imagine it.

They told you to pour drinks on the floor for the ancestors and you agree, well it’s *Omenala, so it can’t be broken.
They said a woman should be shorn when her husband dies and well, who are we to not obey the voices of ignorance passed down to us?

We carry knowledge like tentacles on a snail’s head but still slip back into the cave of ignorance we use to shell whatever good we can make of life, just because we have been told to ‘stand on the wisdom of the elders’,
Now guess who said that? ‘THE ELDERS’

I feel this is rigged.

Then our faith, love, strength, and even humanity is subject to a broken past called tradition,
Something that might have been suggested by a ‘not so smart’ old man who was only opportune to live before us.

So I take a stand today.
I will relate with the rules of the ancestors like they were still alive now
I will weigh their wisdom based on how wise it is, NOW!
I will not waste my time in their myth, only to satisfy their dead bones long gone with the sands of time.

I will make decisions now and then advice younger generations to learn from my words, but before I go from this earth;

I will let them know I wasn’t the wisest
I wasn’t the smartest
I was as man as man can be

And most of all;
As they grow, and find better ways to do what I said couldn’t be done,

They shouldn’t be afraid to discard my letters and fly the plane of their imaginations to outer space and back.

For no matter how sacred we decide to treat the scrolls of heroes past,
And bend always to their judgments on matters, using them as the ultimate yardstick to measure life.

I dare say that many of them were also as confused as we are at some points of important decisions,
And to crown it all, some chose wrongly.

Which only goes to say that we with them were all normal humans.

And if I won’t let another man dictate what I do and decide I run my life, I’m including the great ancestors too.

 

*Omenala is the Igbo(Nigerian Language) word that means tradition

TWS- LET THEM OUT!

Who we end up becoming in life is not just a function of the information we are exposed to, but most importantly, a function of what we do with the information we are exposed to.

It has been said, and I at the moment agree, that you cannot stop a bird from flying over your head, but you can stop it from nesting on your head. I came across a very inspiring article that has this statement:

It is not what people do to you that hurts, it is how you take what people do to you that hurts. (paraphrased).

The situations around you is not the problem, but the way you handle them is.

I believe it is no longer news that the power of life and death lies in the tongue. What comes out of your mouth is a product that was manufactured in your heart using the information you are exposed to as raw materials. Those things that come out of you have the potential to kill or make alive. It all depends on how you handle them.

The truth is that the processed information in our hearts have a way of finding themselves to our mouth. When they get to your mouth, you have two options: either to swallow them again or let them out. I will not advise you to swallow them again, that will be suicidal. I strongly recommend you let them out, good or bad.

One of the downsides of swallowing those things that come to your mouth is that they will bloat you up. I may not be a nutritionist, but bloating is not a condition that anyone will deliberately decide to accommodate. The same way, it is not healthy to take in food and not ingest the digested product, it is equally harmful to your future and destiny to keep processed information in your mind and not let them out. If you must have a healthy destiny, you have to let out all the processed information in your mind. Are you burdened with a weight of processed information in your heart, LET THEM OUT!

#UNLEASHED

A Happy New Month To You!

©TRANSFORMING WORDS SERIES
(Transforming the World through the Word)
https://transformingwordseries.wordpress.com