I Can’t Breathe

So, you give yourself a treat
Basking in the Euphoria
Of Pizza, ice cream and Shawarma
With your dry throat
Enjoying the constant flow
Of a very chill Pepsi
As soon as they announce
One day fasting and prayer
…..I can’t breathe

All night Long
You had a one night stand
Twerking, rolling and standing
On a long thing
But when it was time
To spend one night
With the King of kings
The Creator of all long
And short things
….I can’t breathe

During the Pandemic
You were the Minister of information
The broadcaster of all Confirmed
And Death cases
Now that God has kept you alive
To broadcast His Word
And Minister to his children
….I can’t Breathe

Yes!
You can’t breathe in
The polluted air of Immorality
And exhale the Purity of Divinity
You’ve given your body
All the attention
And sentenced your spirit
To life in detention
No matter the balanced diet you eat
Your Life is not balanced
If your spirit man is not gallant

Beyond the seen
There’s a life behind the scene
Beyond the full feeling
There’s an in-filling
Where drunkenness is normal
And Doggedness is not carnal
Here, there are no neutral grounds
If your feet are not standing on a secret
They will smoke you out like cigarettes
Living too casual
Makes you a casualty
Your Spirit Life Matters

Uwe Etim
© 2020

Church Chairs

These wooden bars kiss more butts on Sundays
According comfort while they stay lay
They hold not a few, void of potter’s clay
Deciding the direction of heads, lined up like plays

Oh! This old rooky object
Which beyond weights carry burdens
Sits firmly
To support a broken heart

These pews are not for saints alone
Neither are they a symbol for show off
The first row does not signify superiority
Neither does the last state a lack of commitment

Nor those occupied by priests portray holiness
Theirs could be different but we are all one
The color white doesn’t promote purity
Neither does style infer ungodliness

Chairs should be what they are, chairs
Nothing more
A support for comfort
Whether in church or at home

In Africa or in Rome
They should be to the pope
What they are to his congregation
An object for resting butts

Adedatryts, Imani Dokubo (c) 2019

Express

All about love
All about you
Or I am but you
Slave to my lust
Saved by your words

All about beauty
Nature is unity
With you, in purity
Curse to my head
The force is my red❣

All about peace
In you I see
I will write a piece
To the world that hates
So from our love it can taste

It can taste affection
And see it’s perfection
With the right perception
It can be shaped into love
Although seeming round and rough

Adethatwrites
©2019