Tag: Reminds

Gethsemane

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The garden reminds me of him

Bowed down, he bore weights too heavy before they ever landed. My Lord knew the battle was fierce to fight and he would not let me suffer. No, he would do the fighting. If this price had to be paid, then he would do the paying.

The garden reminds me of him

The Lord of glory had need for help. Every minute brought him closer and every gesture was a prayer. He that was everyone’s everything had no one’s nothing to journey with him. Alone he must go. A lone seed to be sown.

The garden reminds me of him

Before the curtain fell on sin’s final payment.  Before ever a drop of blood hit the floor. Before stripes parted his skin and men killed the one that healed them. The garden bore witness to my Lord’s humanity. The garden bore witness to this man’s divinity.

The garden reminds me of him

Ezeonyeka Godswill
(C) 2022

Wheat

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I have never seen Everson but my brother he is
And he’ll never sin on my scene, never bother with it
Young Charles and the step-fam would be arguing things
But they tried to eat and clean mouth so forked in our things
UC typing with no network
Cast your words and let’s work
Electrifying verses versus, we wrote culture shock
That reminds of Godswill on the LinkedIn thought
When I write nowadays
I’m Kendrick in my brain
When I’m emotional, I’m Drake
I give UC catarrh like Wayne
I should learn to edit
Ed, Edd and Edit
Today I was writing slower, with no beat when I read it
And yet I found no timing like I used to back ’13
I feel the neck of Nonso pendulum-ing in reprimand
I read my counterparts and there’s no doubting, I understand.
No buts about this, discipline, I need to robot; Oh God, the speed is messing with the taste of the yogurt.
Uh
I’ve known the height and yet the might was not the way I reached it
No poltergeist, I’m hunting light and all the ways to reach it
Beyond delight, in day or night, I sought to not be rigid
To please the wise and, like a kite, be gliding high in reason
Back
To
Work
One week of intermittent prayer
Constant in the fact that you will see me there
No foul play, I am not a Layer
The season is for harvest so I’m switching gear
Trousers and Head gears
These were the past cares
And don’t get me started on a vaccines being scares
Plans of the antichrist, I’m laughing past tears
I thought of saying it earlier on my family group
But they’ll call me disrespectful and I’m getting in soup
As long as souls are told the gospel, I am cool with the loop
Light is always gonna win, when it’s dark imma stoop
Make dem no go use me shine, “Sorry” no be control-z
I’ll be studying all that time, Me and Mine be on the beat.
We’ll be praying and researching, from the back to front row seats
Then I’m studio-ing it all, yeah it’s QuChi and the Wheat!!!

Niel
©2021

Sensei

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Your voice elder brother
Reminds me of life without borders.
You live a virtue more than a cafila
Of the nine fruit a part of the triune is, like aqua
Shadows shift spot when you beam your light.
Goodness you exude without a need to fight
This titanosaur, flesh that engulfed men, bond to obey
One filled with wiles; the same that appears as an apostle of the day
You conquered my nightmares, horrible illusions I traded by peace to
Long before I understood that you never wished to
Have half-baked human, harangued into hellscape.
You took away my bugaboo
And made me whole

Simeon Chidi
© 2019

WE, THE INDEPENDENT ONES

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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