Let these lines stand proof i said it

I will script beauty on tomorrow’s face
I will forge next year into my productivity phase
But just in case I forget to remember to begin
Let these lines stand proof I said it

Time and tide twiddle thumbs
Idly laying languid lessons
We grow and lose our best selves, on our journey to finding us.
Let these lines stand proof I said it

Bet. Everything will make it known. Even
Birds. Twi-twi-twitting, heralding the coming
Birth. Pangs only last the night, no more room to
Let. These lines stand proof I said it

For so long I died to dine with him
For a taste of life and love I sat with him
I rose from that table thorn free
Let these lines stand proof I said it

Such will be history’s song
The stories we paint with every heartbeat
To live to love to give to all
Let these lines stand proof I said it

An army that wins with no casualties
Floating on faith through a storm of uncertainties
Many sick healed would be our reality
Let these lines stand proof I said it

A month is surely time enough
With all five fingers put to work
May it be the one that fulfils it
Let these lines stand proof I said it

Ezeonyeka Godswill
UC Truth
Nonso
St. Davique
©2019

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Delicate fate

What is man’s purpose?
What should man oppose?
Failure?
See, failure has become the cheapest commodity
And most importantly man’s priority
For he often finds himself confused
And induced by the noise of the society
Now!
It’s rare to see another show a different action
Everyone walks on the same pattern

What is man’s purpose?
What should man oppose?
Success?
The tale of Hunger Games
The reality that man’s need would never be met
For as long as he breathes
He becomes addicted to selfishness
And if not careful enough
His last remembrance will be during his funeral

So What is man’s purpose?
Or What should man oppose?

The ALCHEMIST
© 2019

A hand with a cross

These crosses the empty zones
Like a flying drone
A game of the weak with the strong
Not exactly a contest
But an interest, a request of a savior.

A game for the peak and a tale of the wrong
This is about the struggle
That rumbles with man’s eternity
He has been a warrior since the day one
Faces persecution
Stoned by test and trials
Wandered away from the rally of deceit into the valley of shadow of death
Yet a hand bared the cross

In the realm of sleep
Wars, battlefront
Wrestling
Against the devouring clone
With hopelessness and darkness
And at the tip of condemnation
Rises the hand that bares the cross

And when flaws
Had risen and fallen
Like a raging sea
Waging war against itself
Beneath the surface of reality
Grew strength
To move on that narrow lane
For he who bared the cross
Has render all flaws useless
And had broken all chains by His blood

(c) The Alchemist
2019

The Cross

A hand with a cross
These crosses the empty zones
Like a flying drone
A game of the weak with the strong
Not exactly a contest
But an interest, a request of a savior

A game for the peak and a tale of the wrong
This is about the struggle
That rumbles with man’s eternity
He has been a warrior since the day one
Faces persecution
Stoned by test and trials
Wandered away from the rally of deceit into the valley of shadow of death
Yet a hand bared the cross

In the realm of sleep
Wars, battlefront
Wrestling
Against the devouring clones
With hopelessness
And darkness
And at the tip of condemnation
Rises the hand that bares the cross

And when flaws
Had risen and fallen
Like a raging sea

Wagging war against its self
Beneath the surface of reality
Grew strength
To carry on
Amidst those circumstances
For he who bares the cross
Has render all flaws useless
And had broken all chains by His blood
Freedom oh kingdom!!!

The Alchemist
© 2018.

WE, THE INDEPENDENT ONES

We are they that ride on the waves,
Of ideas, beautiful manifestos of the 50s,
The very spittle that our mother told us if dried before the 60s,
Our navels would rot,

We are the child born in lies,
A fatherless child of 250 fathers,
A child that reminds our mother of this rape called amalgamation,
The child who is half of everything,
Whose strength should be in being everything,
Yet one thing rules: the cancer of corruption,

We are this child in dependence,
To the blind, senseless man that knew how we were delivered from,
This very deep inferno between our mother’s leg,
We encourage ourselves with hopes in things,
Things our reality tells us can never be,
We are married to Religion,
These new Masters that promise us mansions and virgins when we,
Like the worms, cringe and bow out of this stage,

We are hungry,
Milk and honey we dare not wish for,
Our elder brothers eat honey,
They told us to pray,
If we dared stared too long into his plate, he would slay,
The nascent dream we have,

We are independent,
Masters of our own,
Slaves to our elder brothers,
Who constantly tell us that the rudders will be ours one day,
Yet make their sons our master when,
Need be…..
Happy Independence Day.

Chukwu Simeon Chidiebere
© 2018

See

The morning, cool and convenient enough for a park. Buses parked in order of arrangement as passengers grooved in. There I was, patiently sitting in an opened bus void of passengers. Straight towards me came a young girl, couldn’t be more than ten years. Saliva dripping from her mouth, wet hands bagged a polythene bag as she begged. Her voice, faintly blocked and salient and her hands stretched horizontally. 
Perhaps,a sort of childhood illness or an accident or maybe a birth abnormality could be the reason for the saliva dripping mouth and voice quality loss. 

Away from me she went, towards the market lined up with shops. With same pose and similar gestures, she begged as she strolled down hawkers, buyers and passers by. Quite noticeable were her feet. One of it, swollen and partially bent towards the east. Lifting both legs was an obvious difficulty for her. I hoped silently, maybe, just maybe, she would find succour.

Even closed eyes see the needs and struggles of these not so fortunate children, but attitudes towards them becomes a choice we make. 

Every child deserves more than just existing or surviving, but really living. Sadly, comfortable living is unheard of for such kids. A beautiful future is only actualized in their day dreams. Their reality and major concern is a means of surviving daily, securing head spaces at night and food eaten enough to hawk the next day.

You can lend that hand of love. Hospitable hands of faith for their survival. A heart so big to accommodate hawking children and young adults. A heart that sacrifices for the needs of a child who daily dreams of the classroom, but finds himself hawking from sunrise to sunset each day in sweaty rags. Tomatoes and pepper sold in the morning, vegetables and fresh fish takes it’s turn in the afternoon, while banana and groundnut rounds up major sales in the evening. 

Let your heart see the tears and unspoken dreams of these young ones. And may your heart stretch your hand to meet their needs.

  • Michelle Okonicha