The Resistance

Pieces of inspirations, stored in procrastination,
Has done nothing to the well being of achievements.
It doesn’t get the job started either does it get it done.
It just lies there closer to you.
Making you feel awesome like you can touch the sky.
Meanwhile, you only spy into the future using your imaginative sense.
And you taste the savor of greatness without getting a chop of the meal.
You will never start until ready starts going.

@adethatwrites
©2019

GOD’S LETTER

This love that leaves a bitter taste on my tongue
Is the sacrifice I promised I would have for you despite your flaws
You give me your heart in pieces
your brokenness is what I long for
the only thing I want from you

Mending is what I do with you
This process that shows you the love I hope you see
And I hope imprints on you
I do not give your heart back in pieces
I give you this new one, designed to be bound to me

Your gaze makes me feel like
I’m all there is in your heart
I tuck your hair behind your ear
Hold your hand, look at your face
I want you to follow me
I definitely have a lot to show you

IFIOKABASI OKOP
© 2019

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

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

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

THE ETHNIC WAR OF INNER VOICES WITHIN MAN

Hmmm…Have you walked down this lane?
The lane of the warring voices embedded in the mind?
Where voices rage war in the soft bones of your mind,
Over choices and decisions,
Voices sounding right under the spell of imaginative confusion,
Wrong when castrated of the spell,
Where reasoning becomes afraid to reason,
Cos even in the cause of reasoning choices coated in capsules of poison seize thy taste of choice,
Confused over nothing yet confused over everything,

Drowned in the ocean of counterfeited uncertified voices draining broken pieces of unfulfilled dreams sketched out,
These voices keep on speaking,
That the only surviving cartilage in the brain of my head has been ruptured
Unseen yet powerful and influential voices, trapped in myriads of scorn,
This is an inbuilt ethnic war,
Who can save me from this destiny device,
Where voices echo unraveled solutions and complicated ideas to same thing,
Which do my being become a slave to?

Rains of confusion has embarked on a rescue journey at the central park of my head,
Taking rest at the hallucinated desolate field of lost,
The sweet and gentle voice of procrastination has embalmed its statue in me and silenced my voice of reason placing it in the solitudinal grave of eternity,

I wear smiles wrinkled on the inside,
Spraying the perfume of faded smile to avoid panel of questioning,
Inner pimples has eaten deep my dimpled mind of rest,
Hiding under the cloaky face care of MARY KAY
To bring out the dimples amidst the pimpled troubled mind,

Which voice do I cling to?
The sugar coated diabetic voice or the fading- like silent voice embedded with thorns and water logged pathway to destiny,

OH!!! OH
War of voices within…
My soul has become aged at the peak of my youthful mind,
Let me think and make one… my permanent abode for a gloomy doom await the confused mind making choices,
Follow me on my journey but with cautioned silence.

Kanu Nonye

© 2018