God’s Waiting Room

I hope I am able to achieve this
On the invisible canvas of your mind
All I have got are word paints and brushes
To paint a picture that speaks to you to
Stay in God’s waiting room

Ever seen a pregnant woman?
I guess you have
What do you think or know goes on in there?
A lot, right?
Growth, formation, connection
And I know you know it takes 9 months to get a birth

Ever compared that to your life?
You are like a pregnant woman
With the vision and the dreams you have in you
But just like the pregnant woman, you have got to wait
Wait to grow, wait to form, wait to connect the more, wait to learn, wait to unlearn and relearn

Here’s the important thing when waiting, your attitude.
God’s more interested in what you do while waiting than the waiting itself.
You are a being in time while God’s beyond time
You know now, you see now, but God knows the after now and he sees the after now
So when God gives you a word, a dream, a vision
You had better relax in his word remember he said, “wait though it tarries”

Elijah could as well have given up before the seventh time to see the cloud as tiny as the hand of a man
But he waited for his cloud of confirmation
So when it looks like you are tired of waiting, look out for the clouds of confirmation
Right therein his word because he is not a man that should lie.
So wait for it, for the vision, dream , word whatever you have been told cos it must come to pass.
And know that you are not the only one waiting, there a lot others,
God is preparing everything for you and you for everything
So grab a seat and wait in his waiting room until your name is called.

Phyl
©2020

The Upgrade

I love you Lord;
For your voice means the world to me;
Say it, I’ll do it,
I needn’t understand
For you have made your dwelling with me.

O Lord you will lead me through the valleys,
Of the shadows of the death of me,
You O Lord puts the word in season in my mouth;
You have made my tongue the pen of a ready writer,
For you have chosen me for deeds noble.

I will never really understand your love,
How you choose to love an adulterer,
Or make prayers in folded palms,
For the ones whom a hole,
They drilled into your palms,
Or choose to let a kiss betray you,
And yet still gave your life,
As a sacrifice! All for what?
To prove your love for me,
Yes, I have denied you more than three times,
Yet, you choose to love me,
I guess my eyes will always see love differently,
Love that crossed my I’s,
Love on the crossed-eye
love of God, for I!

How do I tell this story,
A tale as old as two cities,
Before time could even speak,
My brain never seems to figure out the math,
Of how you could love scandalously,
How a Prince gave up everything,
To love a low-life like me!
My scars didn’t scare Him,
Rather He kissed them!
Now I see nothing but love!

And when I kept at you,
You looked at me so tender
You said, “spread your mercy abroad,
To the good and to the ungrateful,
You’re like me that way,
What I do for my living,
This is the upgrade you need”.

Olaoye Adeleye,
Favour Omeje,
©2020

Take My Hands Instead

One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020

Why’s Intro

The goal is to sell myself to Life,
But Life said come back when you’re dead,
Commas behind zeroes; I just wanted tomorrow,
I valued it more than the now and the loot oh,

So much Carnage is possible!
But some came from the rubble
Worth are you when I ask
Otherwise it’s your task
Get a thing into time, that will live till it’s killed

Blessings are a present,
that means they are present,
Sometimes I forget
My Spirit will be present

Niel Quchi
© 2020

Grace

Only you know the house I built
It’s your love that erases guilt
Humans point fingers past the point
But it is to you that we are joint
Faithful

Raise me up from the dust of my work
It’s your grace that makes me work
Life is like the sea to my boat of breath
But it is for you that it all exists
Selfless

After the storm you are still King
It is said that there is God in everything
I have faith and I’m counting results
But it is as Son that I walk the soils
Adventurous

No one heard the messages
It is us that forget things we’ve seen
Safety is vain for the immortal
But if I have family it’s one for all
Responsible

God over everybody
Leg-over the enemy
Laughter on my family
But sacrifices set the scene
True

Every time I trust in you
You seek me above the flu
Silence isn’t you ignoring
But I will listen to your echoing
Predestined

Niel Quchi
© 2020

Prototype

So much to say but it all seems shallow
What is it that I have made that time didn’t swallow
Now I say I’m made when I make it to a heart
Lord knows I am no longer at the start

But I live life like I’m a responsible baby
And most of my blood fam don’t know the QuChi
Only time I cry is when I make a battle cry
And when I crack after conquering the pressure

So much to type
But I’m not the type
Seen beyond the hype
I’m a prototype

“Come to me, all you who are heavy-laden…”
But my brothers still prefer to attack the kraken
I have plans but I can’t foresee the next day
So do research when you’re fixing to advise me
Sold at the park, yes I was only beaten by rain
Give me a mic, yes you’ll see just how much I trained

But sometimes the swiftest feet are defeated
And the arm of the mighty get deleted

I put my trust in God, not environment or state
I put my hands to work, some are celebrated late.

Niel Quchi
© 2020

It Makes No Difference 2

It makes no difference
That we project ourselves
As believers
But we so much
Believe in the blatant Lies
Of Deceivers

Again, they call their preacher
Maniacs
Yes! the maggot mouth
Of Covid 19
May turn the world
To a Morbid Canteen
But the Word of God stands still…
…Still enough to be a
Statue of Liberty to those
That will die living in it

It makes no difference
If you believe not the Word
Because your disbelief
Will not alter the plans of Divinity
Believe it or not
We still have Mortals
Possessed with the Spirit
Of Immortality
Those whose time will not end
Till they see the end of time

It makes no difference
Living in the natural
And beefing the Supernatural
Because Life is not all about
What you’ve seen
It’s all about
What you’ve not seen

In the Labour room
Of this Lockdown
Is a Primigravida in Labour pains
Pushing to give birth to the likes
Of Meshach’s and Shedrach’s
Sons that will pledge their lives for the Word
Sons that will grow like Abraham
To become Fathers of Faith

In a time
Where the Wisdom of the wit fails
And Fear Factor is the Main Actor
It makes no difference
If we(believers) are not different
Because if we die is the Word,
We live is the Word
IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE

King Uwe
© 2020

It Makes No Difference

It makes no difference
If we are so different
That the nozzle
Of our presence
Does not exude reverence
Or give preference
To the one that gave life
It’s essence

It makes no difference
That we’ve become Workaholics
Busy with the work of the Lord
Without having time to fellowship
With the Lord of the Work

An Usher
That has not developed
The receptacle to usher in
The presence of God
Is a bouncer

A church member
That keeps a seat in Church
But does not keep in touch
With the Word he hears
From the church
Is a “Chairman”

It makes no difference
If we are not different
From the world
We were called to change
Instead, we rejoice and be glad
With our hands in chains

Why will a creature
Be forming Socrates
That he becomes so creative
In denying the existence
Of his creator

Why will the media
Become the truth
We crave to hear
Than the very Word
That gave “hearing”
To the ear

King Uwe
© 2020