TALE OF THE HEAVENS

Far away
Away as the waters that once finds its dwelling at shore

How far is far
Are you talking about endless oceans or a stary sky?

I have lost my rhythm at the sound of the endless ocean
Scared to trace the pathway
Which I once trusted as the Broadway

The way to the Broadway can be deceptive
But we are receptive to the leading of the rhythm within
The one that leads to the path of life

The path of life
The crown of eternity
Grizzled with Gold and emerald
Joining the Herald
The cherubs and seraphs in the song of redemption

The very redemption that liberates
The one that exposes me to my strengths
The joy is unending
This song ushers me to rivers of living water

Most times I hear more about angels singing
But poetry is hardly talked about
Does the angel write?
Is poetry their kind?

If they ever wrote I wonder what colour the words displayed
But I think to myself, if Christ is a poet then maybe their is a trace that leaves clues

Maybe they write in blue
Or green, or pink,
No, I think golden, because of the golden scroll
Maybe not
Maybe black or brown or no color
Maybe their ways is a mystery to unravel

I think a greater mystery to unravel is the way they study their master through us, the chosen once, the once who have given themselves to the Word

It teaches me the true way of a living master
That conquered me in my rebellion
Adonai
That divided the river Nile

The Niles hear and see
They are receptive to the masters voice
Same way they can be with ours
Cause the signet has been placed on us

Imani Dokubo
The Alchemist
© 2019

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CHRONICLES OF A DROWNING MIND

Dead zone
Broken soul
Scary shadows
Those are rhythms of a poor old kid
Whose ways never pleased anyone, not even herself.

No hope
Buried grace
Weak for the race
Those are top list words recorded in the word billboard of her mind
She used to be of the royal line
But now goodness turned to lime
She sees God’s intentions as the least
Her faith so rusty and loosen like an abandoned screw
There she becomes a beast that feast with the devil.

Records of heart failures
Impotent to believe the best inside
Drenched with the thoughts of discovery
Draining in the memory lane of no understanding
Tears from the sole of the heart dripping down like flood yet none sees these flood of questions buried in tears

Travelling alone in travail… I weep in smiles…
Because in my green days have I grown grey because am yet to discover the me in me

In silenced smiles I’m drown in fears because my mind has become aged in thoughts

Hold my weeping mind
Embrace my tears in warmth,
Caress me with words of rescue
Carry me in the wings of warmth understanding
For I drown in silence

Oh…save me from this destiny device
For I transit into the groove of eternity
My powerhouse drowns
I plead for restoration if that exist
I seek for redemption for this battle is beyond me

Nonye
The Alchemist
© 2019

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.

Everyday Jesus – Sunday (A poem)

Hello sunday
So soon
Here you are again
You evade our hearts
With some kind of feeling
“Go to church”

Blimey, sunday
A little observation
Men! Yes human beings
Most of them aren’t sincere
Whenever they see you
They adjust, and re-adjust to be called the just.
We are pretenders, offenders
We carry the bible on your evasion
Just to claim timed salvation
Poor decision, poor innovation

Listen sunday
There is a lot going on
Disgusting things.
On sunday, is when my fellas will carry their bible to read
Or even loud their stereo, listening to christian songs
Or even raise their voices, singing to be noticed.
O sunday, what have you brought on us?

Sunday, maybe I am the one getting this tough, so rough
Maybe it is not your fault
It is a default thing
Men invented it
We allowed the busy scene of life to get us carried away
Or you caused it?
Nooooo, not you
Nooooo, Not us
Ooooooooooooohhh!
I think it’s us
We are lazy
Lazy to face the facts
Enemies of ourselves
We are always carried away
Away, like a sheep.

Sunday, maybe it is not us
Maybe it is us…
Sunday, it is us…

 

By the Alchemist

EVERYDAYJESUS’ ‘Do not kill nature’! (A poem)

NATURE, gives inspiration right?

But then, walking her down on the street of extinction

Humanity! Where is this distinction?

Maybe only and folly as a reward in school

When this shoe called nature

Is neglected, and rejected

Can you hear her pleading?

Bleeding as if guilty

‘Save my body’, my part (human)

For when it’s all gone

What else left other than mourn.

DO NOT, cease from your call

We are wise ones, not bias ones

Blimey! She is dying

Sharing a wretched man’s fate

Hope won’t be too late

To amend this rate…

 

Author note

Concerned about the state of things

…us forsaking our source.

 

©, Tolulope Amao