My Grandfather

Poetry

I remember the speech
My grandfather never gave me
My boy, he said
One day, you will find a woman
and she would sweep you off your feet

Staring at her, would leave you
Gasping for air and
Grasping at straws
You will go to bed alone
with dreams of holding her close
and the sight of her would leave you
Leaping for joy. 

And at her fingertips she would hold
Your joy and happiness 
As you build bricks of your future
with every minute spent daydreaming 

and one day 
she would find a man 
her heart beats for
while you are left composing poems
in the dark
about a speech you got
from the grandfather you never met .

Wanderlust

Poetry
To want or to need?
Are our wants 
needs in breeding?
and our needs
beaded with the distractions
that feed our desire?

Is it love or is it lust?
Is it purpose 
or are we lost?
Driven by passions
that drive past our minds
Passed on as pastures
Fodder for cattle
Prepared for the slaughter 

Who are we? 
Are we the ones we know?
Or are our reflections masks
maxing the maxims
That a book's meaning is 
covered beneath 
its hardened shell

If we dare look beneath
the clutter and the speediness 
Of all we have convinced ourselves
we are,  we want or need,
I fear we would stare 
at blank pages, 

and armed with shaky hands 
and the pen of years to come
I pray we feel the need to fill
the pages of our existence
with a life, 
devoid of the distractions
that feed our desire.


To Dare to Talk

Word!!!!

I have to admit I have been suppressing my thoughts. For multiple reasons, but I believe mostly because I believe the world 🌎 moves too fast for the things I think about. I believe my thoughts would help people slow down and see life differently; better still, correctly. Or at least, to help them see life: all they're missing out on.

But I often wonder if seeing life is a luxury many do not believe they can afford. To stop and think, switch from the numbness and feel, strike a conversation even when it slows you down...these seem like lofty ideals, far away from the necessity that violently stares at the 130 million living below the poverty line.

Again, I question my thoughts...and wonder why we even got so poor as a country. While I delibrate on the helpfulness of my predilection, I ask myself, rather judgingly, what if I shared them earlier? What if more people who had the chance to swim 🏊‍♂️ above the water to see the beautiful 😍 sunset 🌇 , took the time to tell everyone down on the ocean floor that there's more, enough, provision and beauty to go round?

What if we all took the time to refine our thoughts and share them with those around us, enough to spark a debate, inspire a course correction, or motivate a teenager to seek excellence beyond the mundane?

I wonder: what if we shared our thoughts more? What if we dared to talk?

scum?

Poetry

I wonder if
you have been loved
with the intensity
of a beating heart

have your frailties
ever been blotted out
in the eyes of the one
that gazes at you
as the colourful glistening
of evening's sunset?

have the rules of engagement
been thrown out the window
with the laser focus of a man
who wants nothing more
but to listen to you billow on?

perhaps, these words I pen
have been scripted by one
who came before me
promising roses and daffodils
and left you with thorns, torn

and my scribbles of affection
are nothing more than
clanging cymbals and red flags
that scream
'All men are the same'

The Becoming

Poetry



I know I should tell
of the million lines of thoughts
that speed through 
the expressway and
networks of my mind.

how i grew up in the
split second you blinked
and became
as you looked away.

But I silently dwell in
this mind utopia
constructed out of the
half conversations and 
drifting thoughts

of when I would muster
the courage to walk away
from who you see
and step into 
the becoming of me.

The Imitation Game

One of my favourite movies of all time is the Imitation Game, based on the true life story of Alan Turing. He is considered the father of computer science.

In the height of World War II, he helped develop an algorithm to crack the German secret communication. A key part of that communication was the location of  the ships on the Atlantic that were marked for destruction by the Nazis. 

By cracking that code, Alan and his team knew every single ship that was going to be destroyed.

That was a huge responsibility, because, if they saved their country's ships, the Germans would know their code had been cracked and they would ultimately lose the single advantage they had in the war. The scene captured above was Peter, begging Alan to allow the ship his brother was on to be saved, to which the team decided against.

Now, you could argue about the ethics of such decisions, but many times as adults or humans, we are faced with such choices. Our responsibilities sometimes come at personal costs and we always have a choice to act selfishly, compared to doing what would benefit those depending on us. And the common excuse is, "You're not God". Why bother?

But surprisingly, in a way, you are. There are people that would be scarred for life if you choose to think of yourself only. When faced with responsibilities, I believe we ought to take up the mantle and make decisions that might cost us personally, but would ultimately benefit the larger community. With more selflessness in leadership positions, everyone benefits in the long run.

You may not be Alan Turing determining who lives and who dies in a World War, but in the personal battles of your small community, you always have a choice to make. In the wars going on in your world, for the good of those around you, I pray you choose selflessly and wisely.

Author's Note:
What do you think? Could you handle such a responsibility? Can you relate? Comment below.

Not on Trial

Ever since I was young, I have been in competitive scenarios. My dad was big on academic excellence and before I even was old enough to know my bearings, I was already having home lessons, jumping classes and gunning for top grades.

Coming first in class was a big deal. And for me, because of the aggressive home tutoring plan my dad personally ran, it came somewhat easy. As I grew up, even going into high school and the university, being an excellent performer academically became an expected norm for me.

Shockingly, without knowing, I took this aggressive desire to perform into my Christian faith. I went through the list of expectations on what makes a strong Christian and made the items on that list my personal life targets...and boy! Did I fail woefully. This is because, the foundations of Christianity are not based on performance.

We have a God that sent His Son, Jesus, simply because He knew us to be utter failures. We suck at life, genuinely, and that was the sole purpose of the sacrifice. We are poorly equipped to meet God's and life's standards, and that is why He brought Jesus to tick all the boxes on our behalf.

So, on the days when I am a terrible Christian and I feel like I let myself down, it takes a whole lot to get out of my funk. But once in a while, in a devotional or a morning prayer, or in a message, I am reminded that I am not on trial. I have a God that has approved of me already, and this empowers me to try again, no scratch that...this empowers me to rest on Jesus.

So today I implore you to rest on Jesus as well. Stop trying to be the high performing individual at life. Jesus is more than capable of outperforming you. Choose life, choose rest and choose to not condemn yourself.

You are not a failure. You are not a terrible person or a disappointing Christian. Simply because, you are not on trial...

Just Want To

Poetry


whisper melodies

into your ear

sing sweet songs to you

as you doze off


tell tall tales 

of my dreams and

stand tall, shoulders broad

when they materialise


give you a safe space

to shoot for the stars

and rope in the sun

just want to

love you.

Come Away

Poetry

 


 
Hide my love.
Hide here by me.
From the thieves that break in.
And the moth that feasts
On the treasures you hold
More dearly than me.

Come my love.
Come away with me.
For there is a place of endless bliss
Where love and peace seep deep within
Where hopes and dreams
Drown out reality.

Rest my love.
Find rest in me.
From the sorrows and toil
And the sweat of the day.
For there are many mansions, prepared for you
Hide here, come away, find rest
In me.

Love Forgotten

Poetry

 


I wish to fall in love with
the tiny beatings of my heart
The seduction of my nostrils
With the warm summer air

I want to be intertwined
With the sheets that wrap me in
As the night breeze caresses my head
Melting the travails of the day away

I wish to hug my mind
While we picnic underneath sun rays
Sandwiched in sound wishes' sandwiches
Tongues wetted by the ones fulfilled

There would be days when
I would be bold enough to
Divorce the hustles and grind
that sow thorns and thistles time after time
In this neglected love affair with my life.

But until then, I'd find solace in
Wishes of a budding love
Where mind, body and soul would allure
More than the futilities I chase

Danger

Poetry

I long to fall in your arms
As the wind blows across my face
And I am anchored mid way by gravity
I trust I would return to you 

I wish to fall and break into pieces
Moping as you put me back together
and we'd laugh at my childishness
I would kill for your arms on me 

I want to melt on your shoulders
I want to hear that it would be okay
Even when I already know it would be
It sounds better when you say it

Promise me that you would catch me
Because needles have been placed where cushions should be
Bitterness ambusing where love abode
and emptiness found where nets should stay 

This game is a game of trust
I have been hurt many times before
As I make my way back down to you
Catch me as I know you can

Moses

Poetry

I am tired of 
Seeking burning bushes in thistles 
Holding my staff to Red Seas
Casting rods expecting serpents
Raising my arms to invoke locusts

I am tired of
Stubborn Pharaohs and heartless foremen
Grumpy followers with wearied belief
Bloodied door posts and darkened cities
Dead children of grieving hosts 

I am tired of
Wormy manna and disobedient men
Forty years around a spot
Bitter water and striking rocks
Milk and honey hidden by dust

As I view the next horizon
May my hope not be deadly poison
The walk of faith has made me sore
As I leave my comfort zone once more
Let the promise land be where I fall

Wanetwa Mos

Poetry
Photo Credits: @King_Leonne


"Wanetwa mos"

A tribute to the pathways
Where great men strode-a-plenty
Where the best of dreams find expression
Between glasshouses and wineries

Beneath the glistening sunset
As the roadside seller fans the embers of her burning coal
and the children trod home from school

Pay attention and you would find
A rhythm,  a chant, a whistling
As past, present and future collide,
Adesuwa is, was and will always be
The road that leads you home.

The Way You Do

Poetry


I like the way
"It's okay" sounds 
from your tongue,
how shoulders raise
when you dry tears
and mend hearts

I hate the way
"It's okay" never sounds
enough for,
you have built
their soul's dwellings
with the bricks of comfort
only you can mould

and in the cold nights
when the stormy winds knock
on the fragile door 
that your heart is,
you ask if there is another
who can say, "It's okay"
the way you do.

Emolga

Naija

The outskirts of development
Tarred roads leading to elopment
of data,  electricity and English
to a native land,  veiled as a city

Oil boom has hidden the gloom
of a people with riches as their doom
For at night,  beneath a brightened moon
Gentlemen with weapons,  will terrorise soon

Welcome to EMOLGA,  by the Garden City
To the cultland, with an innocent greeting
They sold us peace,  comfort and perfection
The unrest,  they somehow forgot to mention

That One Time...

Poetry

I would have walked away, and then
You'd be girl number ten
Just another inspiration to my golden pen
As forgotten as the rays of the sun at the day's end

I would have walked away, and you
Would be a fling I didn't pursue
the locks on my heart, you wouldn't undo
As trivial as the embers quenched by the forest rains

I would have walked away, and I
Would be as the birds that fly by
Uncaring and aloof to heart cries
Concerned about the deadlines that deaden tales of romance

I would have walked away, but now
I'm stuck with a broken pen
With affection burning without end
Scribbling tales about the day I didn't walk away.

Dear Daniel

Fiction
Dear Daniel,

How did you do it? You were the King's favorite, it was obvious you were going to be governor. How did you take the risk to throw it all away?

Maybe you didn't quite understand what was stake. Maybe you didn't understand the importance of what you were throwing away. Maybe you didn't know the rest of us looked up to you. The slave boy, who was called before the King; whose seat survived the Persian invasion. The slave boy who would become Governor of Babylon. Why would you?

The instruction was simple Daniel. Only worship the King. Don't worship God. Even if you were going to worship God and pray,you didn't have to do it with the windows open, where you could be seen. You could have prayed in your room. In the closet, anywhere! But you chose to pray, so you could be seen.

What was your end game? Did you grow proud? Did you want to prove a point? Did you believe the God that couldn't save us from Nebuchadnezzar would save you from dirty politics? If He didn't save his beloved Israel, what made you think he'd save you?
I believe this is out of peer pressure. You want to outshine Shedrach, Meshack and Abednego. You want to outdo their miracle. You've grown proud Daniel, tempting the Lord God of Israel. Let's see you get out of this one.

I'd pray for the forgiveness of your soul and the liberation of Israel. Good luck with the lions.

Yours faithfully,

A former fan,
Jedidiah.

Charm In

Poetry

Come and find me
Search through the jungle
With the machete on the vines
Listen to our hearts intertwined
I would be waiting for you

Find me behind the shadows
Locked away with rejection
Hiding even when I reemerge
Silent in the mundane conversations

Make me break off the shell
Kiss me, so my heart would yell
Under the moonlight we would slow dance
The crickets would sing the love song of our brokenness

Hug away the demons that troll
Let your warmth melt away the pain
From the pounding of searing memories
Hatred, death, sorrow and fears.

Come and find me
My long lost hunter
Let my heart screams be your compass
As you gallop further
My knight in shining armour
I would be waiting for you



Writer's Lust

Poetry


The one that got away
Out of my grasp, caused by delay
Now her smile seems brighter than midday
By conflicting emotions I'm haplessly swayed

One said,"She should be happy"
She deserves attention
Not your half hearted love that's crappy
If you give her away, maybe you'd be lucky
And she'd come back,
make your life less sucky

Then the other voice says "You're making a mistake".
Don't sabotage yourself for Pete's sake.
Remain in her focus, blur out her gaze
Feed on the attention
Like sinners on grace
Like cattle that graze

So I made a decision and listened to the former
Set up a damsel with a Knight open to chatter
Now I'm haunted by the quiet and thoughts of their laughter
Wondering if I'd be best man in their happily ever after.

So in this tragedy I find consolation
To Cupid's arrows and sparks I made a donation
Hoping he'd return the favor with affection
Fix up my heart and save me
from my torturous indecision

The Note

Fiction

My love.

By the time you read this letter, I'd probably be dead. Dead and buried.

 Don't be shocked. I've known this day would come since...well, since forever. It has been on my mind for way too long. As I walk away from this note, so you don't get all teary eyed on me, I need you to understand why I am doing this; you need to know why I'm giving myself up.

Know that I think of you, everyday. All the time, every day of my life for the past hundred billion years. Know that, I have always wanted to do this. Smile for me, in the midst of the confusion. I do really hope you understand that, when that spear is pierced through my sides, it would be because it feels empty without you. When they prong at my bones, know that you are the real bone of my bones. As the blood spills, know that the heart that pumps it through my vein beats only for you. My heart does not beat fine without you, so it's better off not beating, if that's what it takes.

I am scared, I would not deny that I am scared of going through with this. I've planned this day my whole life and yet my chest is heavy. They say no one should come between you and family, but, Daddy's boy is gonna be away, because of you. I and my Father, apart , for God knows how long. How do I survive it? How do I stay alone in this cold world through that torture while they mock, scorn, flog, spit, pierce...argh. I know I am able, but still...still...

I am scared of this death, but calmed by a greater one, the fear of not going through with this. If I do not do this right now, you'd die. Forever. There would be no hope. Cancer would win. Confusion would plague at your soul forever. You'd be forever chased by the guilt of your filth, a filth that would cease to be from today.

You see, I am not just your love. Tonight, I'd be much more than that.

I'd be the sacrifice. I'd be the scapegoat. I'd be the criminal. I'd be the scum of the earth. I'd be the broken, the filthy, the sick, the worthless, the ugly, the tattered. And I'd enjoy every second of it.

Why?

Because, today, I'd be you.

Deep, right?

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