Are you a baby?
Rise up like a warrior!
Why do you allow that weight weigh you down?
Don’t you know you are to travel Light?
You are not a weight lifter!
Even babies know the sound of my voice
Don’t be dull of hearing
Rise up like a warrior
Start travelling light
Yes, you!
Hannah DGinus
©2024
_I did it again!_
Left my place of rest in search of fading bliss
I called ‘inheritance’ what was mere gifts
Dropped my daily routine to unwind with wild parties
Past achievements that have become ashes
I knew I was out of power but the fan’s still turning in my direction and it felt cool
I knew my embers were getting cold but I couldn’t resist the urge to dance without recharging and see what it felt like
I knew my light was getting dimmer but I claimed I was shining in the darkness
Away from my Source
Away from who made me son
Away from my true inheritance
Away from my natural habitat
_I did it again!_
How can I face Father this time with shoes on?
How can I expect his forgiveness after the limit for a day?
How can I tell him his robe got torn?
How can I tell him the reason I am back was the memory of the tasty beef in my mouth?
That I want to be welcomed again?
That He was right and I lived wrong again?
How can I tell him I did it again?
Hannah DGinus
©2024
You may not understand my clan,
For it is celestial
I dwell in my Mount Zion.
You don’t know me
For I am a son unto I AM
And my name is written in gold.
You may not understand,
Thousands of Angels dances with me
I and Christ drinks with the same royal cup.
Ugwu David C
©2023
Where are you man in grief,
In regret of past decisions or locked in brackets of unanswered questions?
Where are you man in lust,
In a pool of vain imagination or full of scorn from last night’s bile?
Where are you man in doubt,
Trapped in a cage of uncertainties or navigating the complexities of your path?
Where are you man in desperate mode,
Awake in your worries or embracing options that don’t serve you?
Where are you man in unbelief,
Crafting your ways or rejecting help from zion?
God’s hands are reaching out
Bekoning…
Accept His comfort through grief and unanswered questions.
He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept his help to break free from that habit.
He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His wisdom to deal with the affairs of men.
He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His peace to calm the raging storm.
He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His son that you might have everlasting life.
Imani Dokubo
© 2023
Imagine just for a moment
That father and mother had tossed you
Because you hurt them to immeasurable lengths
Imagine you became an orphan and you deserved to
An orphan on the street surviving
You make a habit of peeping into Chief’s house
You know you shouldn’t, but you just want a glimpse
Of life, of everything good on the other side of this wall
You imagine if you could get a job
You will prove yourself worthy of existing so close to Chief
You daydream of seeing Chief smile and hand you a bonus loaf
Working for Chief would be everything, but you have nothing
The least in Chief’s house outranks you
You have a stained history, and your skills fail you
Chief is kind but the worker must earn the pay he is due
Your orphaned soul sighs as your hope dies anew
Now imagine Chief finds you at your spot
Seems unlikely but what if Chief took you to the other side
What if Chief announced to everyone your speedy adoption?
What if you went from orphan to son in the shortest possible time?
Imagine the servants’ puzzled faces
The ones you envied now wait on your next command
Imagine your shock as Chief takes you to your own spaces
You can feel your lack disappear as Chief holds your hand
Chief invites you to walk with him
Chief says he has grown to love you
Chief has given you an inheritance of all that is his
Chief has made your life completely new
Now stop imagining, the moment is gone
Chief is still in the room, he still wants to adopt you
You don’t have to stay orphaned in this world alone
Take Chief’s invitation, your transformation is due
You don’t have to work for this
But you will learn to walk with Chief
And when you taste the goodness that Chief brings
May you never think you earned this
– Ezeonyeka Godswill
(c) 2022
Battles to be fought
Wars to be won
Knees on the ground
Prayers to the son
Girding on my whole armour
Helmet wrapped in salvation
Shield engraved in faith
Sword spilling fiery words
Shoes dipped in the power of the Spirit
Going in this might
Losing not to naysayers
Victory is mine
For the battle is the Lord’s
Feet deeply rooted
In the finished work of the cross
Seated in heavenly places
To watch a war already won
I fight not with fear or dread
I fight for the greater is in me
I fight ‘cos it’s a good fight
I fight to take what had been mine
I fight to possess what I had been given
I fight ‘cos I had won
I am more than conqueror so I fight!
Oraegbu Philipa Ada
© 2022
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
“We’re all Kings and Pawns,”
Napoleon Bonaparte once said,
“We’re all Emperors.”
“We’re all Fools.”
Funny he should say that.
We, like two Kingdoms, square up.
Blacks against Whites.
Decisions. Decisions.
What’s in your hand, sir?
King Pawn to King Four.
Small beginning steps we take
Believing we’re each of us
The only star in our own movie.
But Knight to Queen’s Bishop Three.
Counter moves from counter selves
We sabotage our own efforts
And wonder what’s afoot.
We’re all Kings and Pawns
Though each man in his own heart
Thinks himself different from all.
Superior to all the human-ness.
What’s in your hand, ma’am?
When Bishop takes Bishop,
And we face our true desires
We all deny our deepest truths
For Ego’s sake, for Pride’s joy.
What miserable life we lead
As we approach our end-games
This chessboard cleared of all
And the space evident in all things?
Queen to King’s Rook Three.
Discover Check. And trouble finds us.
Run we may, but hide we can’t.
Now matter where we turn to.
What is this you have in your hand,
Oh fallen man – son of Eve?
What is this you carry in your heart
Oh, daughter of the damned?
If King takes Knight Pawn,
I hope never again will it be said
That we sought for what we knew not
And that all man listened to his own heart.
We’re all Kings and Pawns,
A man once said to the world.
And he – that brilliant devil – he was right.
We’re all – all of us – Emperors. Fools.
Ask not what Mgbeke plans for dinner.
Wonder not when Mgbafo will get married.
What’s in your hand, people of God?
Mind your own business.
Nonso John
(C) 2021
Christ a poet 