Baami, For the times your words enveloped my fear, Times your voice echoed courage into my soul, And you became strength for my arms, When the weight of the world became too heavy for me to bear,
Nna, You built an image our lives could reflect on, And carved words into pointers to guide us, As we journeyed through the world, You denied yourself of pleasures, So we could afford the luxury we desired; A price you’d pay as long as you had breath in your lungs,
How can I forget the touch of your rod, A few lashes to straighten us when we went wrong, How can I forget lessons enriched in respect, integrity and diligence, Lessons drawn from the scenes of your life, Lessons we could hold in the palms of our hands, Lessons that moulded us into the men we are today!
Abba, I choose to count my flowers while the sun still shines upon your face and the wind gently caresses you, When the air in your lungs still warms up your chest, And your heart still beats, Today, I choose to celebrate you for being nothing short of a father! Happy Father’s day Baami.
And to those Father who has gone beyond this world, We choose to remember you and say you live on in hearts!
So I announced the topic at 1:16 PM. But the day had begun a little earlier, links posted from an Instagram post and a medium article.
Topic : Vital Signs
Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.
I started this particular bout at 3:32 PM with this:
So today I’m Searching online For a chic – perfect woman For a big plan What I found: VP of Nigeria’s name is not Osibanjo First aero doctor is Ola Brown? And yet Seun Kuti calls here a concentration camp I already forgot the role of O. Lawal
But my eyes protest by closing They’re longing for my closing They want to sleep a dose indeed I told them growth is what I really need
Vital signs tell me Quchi you’re an Acer HP for health points, I’m healing any matter Asus for the truth, we bring systems from the Maker No Mecca Life so Good, Drake bought a future here Sir Dell say my hair is bad, I say I’m the G in Samson Panasonic flow, 116, roam and act on what I’m going to knock here I no care Tecno for my answer, if you want me quiet OPPO tuned it in, still I chose his diet My discipler Redmi Genesis 1:26 28, still Saw what I’ve never scene Those are vital signs Heavenly jujitsu Cats got nine I got Holy Ghost fruits
See what I did there?
I was writing about Electronic/Comms Tech companies. Not bad huh. They could have celebrated that a bit more, but UC Truth happened next. This man s’ppose to be my brother, but here he is outshining my moment with this beautiful…picture… at 3:36 PM:
When my temperature dropped another hot album I listened To the itchy rash on my thigh, making me dance to every scratch Pale faced CD cover Aches on joints that sing their covers My breath was a broken record Skipping beats became the thud-thud of my my my heart’s drum And it’s on record When my temperature dropped I was buried in dust Home sweet home my sinful body sang of its lust Pale faced lover with a fork I knew these feiry tails would finally drive my mind to nuts And bolts, locked in his tunes Rhythm and blues All these rashes make me itch of me and you When my temperature dropped I became He promised me “Again” to be born I became him here “You in me” was his hymn here The angels chorused The paths they sang was the road paved To walk in motion Heal the sick and don’t lose focus Another dead To raise them now I am sent Like an arrow shot I pierce Bone and marrow Breaking records of yesterday Because what matters is who I kill today The rash decision to be joined to the sun burned me Now I’m nothing but crisps of former paper A letter written by his hands Delivered with a dance When heaven skip skipped their feet For he made me neat Beat by beat A new album Not of this world Cold hearted to the tail and fiery When my temperature dropped
That first line was it for me. I immediately fell for the piece. There were praiseful comments indicating that some other CaPians loved it as well…the piece comes to an end soon enough to not let you tire. Nicely put together.
We all gushed at the constitution of Words, while some of us contemplated the state of our writing skills. Hehe
Then Chika St. Davnique started recording a Voice Note. I was like, Ah!
Please find attached Remi Fani-Kayode Avenue 2 by Chika St. Davnique. Something spicy!!
Zoe had come online and had been reading. She was ready to emit poetry. She did so, at 4:25 PM:
His red blood washed me white A vital sign that I’ve been made righteous.
Then I returned at 4:30 PM. In between Zoe and I, there was plenty of talk. And then I spoke:
Oya wait lemme be the scapeGOAT When I proposed this topic, trust me, I saw not this coming You see UC typing and ceaselessly it’s crazy coming But you’re not doing well if you troway good chair in Xhika def is merciless like Barca last season I dey my dey she went and made us all a voice lesson I understand if we Nintendo die the matter there But vital signs say we’re alive like juice or something high
Ade, Eremi and Uba, you can’t just run away There were the days when they felt something akin to your pain But grit is greeted by the greatness created for the great…test of all time That’s G.O.A.T. weighty from the time it spent on fire
Haha. I guess I have mentioned those who were contemplating the state of their writing prowess.
Here is Hanna, with her thoughts on Vital Signs at 8:29 PM:
Vital signs needed for the sick, the weak but not the meek. Vital signs are needed for the proud, the simple but not the spirited Vital signs are needed for the blind, the deaf but not the clean Vital signs are needed for the hopeless, the depressed but not the adventurer Vital signs are needed when you’re on admission and those symptoms are visible Vital signs are your routine check until you’re dead. An exception to vital signs is to die daily then and only then will you live abundantly.
Baby Girl is just peng. She went text book on it, almost violently. And I ended the day with an 8:36 PM dart:
This stuff nearly embarrassed me. Simple depth Kinda water that drowns you if you just wanna shoyuken, like you’re a streefighter God of War, but na God of Love Kratos on the 6th day For rest that’s only found in Jesus Vital signs I exhibit are things like tongues and power gifts And yes I have the bread to make hell’s traffic jam
I know that you are waiting for Eremi and TC. I’ll keep them for tomorrow. Come back again.
I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.
Authors: Niel Quchi UC Truth Zoe Ziva Chika St. Davnique Hanna Azubuike TC Eremi
The system of this world is of darkness and we are not called to blend with it. We are called to be THE LIGHT OF CHRIST according to how it’s clearly noted in the Scripture of Truth. It is a decaying earth that we live in and we are to be the salt thereof for its preservation. But Jesus spoke of the possibilities of the salt losing its salinity and the light becoming darkness.
May we not fulfill this part of the prophecy, for it will surely come to pass on some and that has been happening since time immemorial. It’s a choice everyone will have to make, which part they’ll fall in.
Have you downloaded Funmi’s New E-book
The truth provided in this book will serve as a great tool in your hand to successfully and with ease navigate your path through life. You will walk in God’s understanding about everything concerning you and never be confused again on any matter of life. All this will always put your heart at rest. So make sure you peruse this book for proper application afterward.
I fear for the man with the microphone He must speak that which was spoken to him But does he listen only to speak to the crowd Can he listen enough to listen while he speaks
I wonder at the woman with the microphone Laid out in beautiful worship before her Lord Does her feet still know the grounds of this world Will this dance of transcendence translate or transform
I fear and I wonder at the man I could be Microphone in hand, driven by more than I can transmit I pray that my eyes and heart never know another Lord That I never be left on my own with a microphone
I wonder at the people we will be, microphone in hand Telling of his love, revealing to all what they need to hear More than words we can describe yet we raise a sound So I pray with the microphone in our hands only Him will be heard
Its appearance was like a desert Burning hot and bare in projection I was already heading that way So I’d rather take a look at it myself
The closer I got, the clearer I could see Little green blades spouting out of the seemingly hardened clay Different colours, shapes and sizes of flowers were opening up The sound of life was faint but loud enough to be heard. And the dry air was now blessed with the fragrance of tranquillity
Each step unfolded pleasant surprises; Suddenly, those blades had grown so tall Held up by thick brown stands They spread their Afros like umbrellas against the harsh rays Colours were lifting with wings and their chirping was high pitched albeit pleasant to the ears
When I looked down, instead of a shadow I saw my reflection Clearly staring back at me upon the flowing waters – so clear and Pure It followed a path as though controlled by the melody from a Piper’s pipe And out of it came cold peaceful air that filled the Forest
Oh, I just called it a ‘Forest‘ I could vividly remember it was a desert I saw So dry it could crack a shadow casted on it Right there, I couldn’t even see my shadow For the rays of the Sun barely pierced through the thick afro leaves And oh, what beautiful glitters it formed on the water surface.
It’s a transformation I thought only existed in Disney world It happened so fast yet slow enough that I could have sworn I was there for hours But it was so real So peaceful, so cool, so fertile and so perfect as it appeared before me
“Until the spirit be poured upon us from on high, And the wilderness be a fruitful field, And the fruitful field be counted for a forest.”
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!!!
How do you keep the voices within silent? How do you keep these storms of insecurities from surfacing ? How do you unbox yourself? Set free from all the labels and tags set by the world..
Am I bound to these stereotypes as Christian? If God created me differently, Then why do I need to fit my person into a genre, Must I lock put emotions because I was born a man? Never to shine on another’s face, Or heal my neighbour’s heart
My heart is dense from my thoughts a hole, drilled by confusion, How do I keep these emotions from leaking? Before I drown and become another zombie, A walking dead; no emotions no feelings, Just another man trying to fit in, Another statistics, Somebody should tell me, please, What does it mean to be Masculine?