Sink

Memories

Of Jamborees

Enemies of victories

Disturbances 

Of consequences

Why do i see all these
The smell of all that sin still lingers

And yet all that is in the past

I see the blood

Falling to the sink

Soon there will be

No trace of this
Oh Lord, only your eyes can say these things

Rinse off my soul 

Heal me of the guilt I bear

All I’ve seen

Gave me all these scars

I would heal

If I was not a monster

So pray for me, before you idolize me

I may not be all that I seem
The smell of all that sin still lingers

And yet all that is in the past
I see the blood

Falling to the sink

Soon there will be

No trace of this
Oh Lord, only your eyes can say these things

Rinse off my soul 

Heal me of the guilt I bear

Blurred Comings

*Blurred Comings*
Where are the lines I etched in the sands of time- and the rules that I wrote on the walls of my heart?
My gut has got the last of me, and guts have spilled as I retreat. I lost the battles I won to Three for her birthday. And yet regret is tea I have no bread for.
There will be scars, there will be ruins, there will be seas leaking from my love’s cauldron. Who still uses cauldron sef?
This, however, is not remotely the end. Throw me back into the fight; until I lose the eyes that refer to me, and the nose that mean I have knowledge…until I lose the ears that each have a calendar and fingers with which to make a point, there will be no white flags, I have died them all ‘read’. There will be no hands up, I do that only to God. I will pendulum until the watches of my night tick off the son in me.
Then I, dressed in mistakes, sitting at the place called ‘Long Last’, crowned with the weight of a thousand worlds, because heavy is the head that wears my crown; will rise in the east and the west. The North will shout at the effervescent glare I emit, and I will smile…
…because I am victorious, like Tori…
…and I wont be alone. We wont end, from these skirmishes, or the blades that Wesley snipes at our necks. We are ‘The Vampires’ and we drank the blood of God. We wont end from these hiccups, or the hungers ice screams are children of. We wont end from Babylon, and the minions she sends to degrade us. 
This is not our graveyard, this is not our Alamo, this is not our Nagasaki, nor is this the noose to our Okonkwo.
We will colonize the ‘Here’ they thought would end us, and when we win we’ll endorse the mottos whose journeys end thus.
Tell them in your class, we are done taking over. We are Vikings to these islands and our spears are the dreams they tried to wake us up from. We look down at their roofs. They should fear us, but they dont know…
Well, we will remind them, we are tomorrow. We are the future and we have passed these presents in the name of…
…In the Name of…
…the name of…
Life.
We…wont..end. We are eternal, like they forgot we are, like they forgot they are.
So call Tomorrow, wake up those dreams, tell them we wont end here, tell them were coming.

They say time will tell…we say, ‘Jesus has told.’
Already we know.

#SPILLOVERSATURDAY

Tomorrow is Thursday

​Sitting in the office listening to Sarkodie

Sitting in the office heart steady aiming there

Once upon a Quchi, Mpape was my city

Now I got magic, call it audacity
Now am humble as I tick off the stages

Now they wonder what number this my age is

My crushes still stare at me, diabolical

The victories line up, illogical
The war is on, yep, buh we won em all

There were kisses in the past buh we blew em all
The ladies win though, shopping malls

Funny punning only here to make you doubt it all
Rapping for me is still a borrowed pose

Check our matter you can see somebody nose

The Word is our medicine, we overdose

Yeah we Stuck in heaven and hell is growing cold
Winning souls like they’re subs and eleven

Ecumenical meetings, hands raised in the dozens

When you don’t know bro you should talk less

I am hidden in Christ, light, like the Sun’s chest
Writing till I sleep I still hill like Bopeep 

Jesu in Quchi like you when you spell it

God is my Papa, by faith that he born it

I am not alone and my people? We still burn it!

Lever Age

​THE LEVER AGE 

(‘The Leverage’ Parody)

Hello Guys! 

Welcome to the new cursor ” 2017″
You have come a long way to go past this destination, you won’t end here.
This is the new age, if today’s your birthday.

And if you know rage, thank God you’re still here. Yayyy!!!
Help me, Teller, to live; I need the catch to buy this ‘New Year’ idea that’s free.
But People! It’s cool, celebrate!

Appreciate God for this date.

In time, we elevate,

New adventures, we initiate.

Even evening out odd odds,

Welcome on board, Ladies and Lords.
Listen carefully! Get rid of the cages

It is you, the called, who has the ring and engages 

The lost in the chases, teaching them he won their races.

And keeping on with the sweaty praises.
Yesterday is long gone, like a rifle.

It is time to grow and flow, like a trickle.

Let’s update our versions of operation 

So we stay compatible with re-presentation.

This is still our present, we’re won.

Words are never enough, Let us love rough.

And if I die in battle, look for my disciple.
Look! Never forget it’s still earth

World full of pain and near-death

World full of War and Ogiri

World full of plenty praying you see

Truth as you strive on a quest to be best

Tomorrow is just another test…of your rest.

         

© , The Niel 

Wrote this exactly on the First day of 2017

Can’t get over you

Your eyes
Tell you what I used to look like

I’d stare
Look away because the world was there

Your ears
Tell you things no one else bears
No one but you
And I.

You mean
More to me than time can reveal

You are
Like this sea of wonders
And I
Can’t get over you.

Your lips
Purse with currency no other bank keeps

Your heart
Was never mine to steal from the start
So take back your heart
And I.

You see
Deeper in me than I can feel

And tomorrow better be better
And tomorrow better be better
And tomorrow better be better
I don’t want to live in
A past that never happened

You are
Beautiful
And I
Can’t get over you

Paid and Named

Couple of failures,
You would think my mistakes married.
Little girl, New nameplate ‘Miss Carried’.
You can draw conclusions, from the way her eye lashes,
That she so hot she gave the streets heat rashes;
Na her work oh, the boys will tell stories.
Bunga-what?! She dey plot to build storeys
When she pass you, blame it on JAMB lesson
No be railway, she ha lost her home training
There was no bad gang, she was good alone.
Even the church people had said their own.
Father getting farther, wharris all dizz?
Poisonous music and movies became her mind’s meat.

But…

Bread of Life,
baked in the oven of a virgin
That good news, now we’re broadcasting
Peace came, and cut her the whole loaf.
IfeJesu, carved out the whole truth.

Yeah, she Nielly ran but Chinonso
Godswill is that the girl glow
That the air tell news of the truth you see
Ama cut CaP till an Alex slander me

Father Father, Nnannam oh
You reaped what I sow
I don’t have to bicycle.

Wait, Wait…

I don’t have to buy sickle.
No matter what hospital.
I will look em in eye shout ‘Horse spittle’
And they dull so they’ll miss it too
Enwekwam UbaAmara, ills are a small issue.

…Ills are a small issue.

In other news, back to Miss Carried.
Those her bad habits, they have seen harpic
Kids don’t come, now they calling her barren.
But her eyes on the Lord and the years passing.

…and the years passing.

Thirteen years, her belleh swelling.
All her friends say, ‘Bae, you are just adding.’
Already we know the story
Its Hannah and its my Auntie
The prayers we’ve forgotten
Are ripe for manifesting
I know that he’ll always hear me
Signed: Jesu Christi.
Through The  Niel.

Baby Freestyle

Born cute and litu
Got more milk than viju
Life is priti simpu
Yeah my mummy shouldn’t catch you

Don’t care about birthdays
Don’t care what the news says
My hands are not for work nay
I just get me more stares
Got a toothless smile brighter than star flares.

I don’t need to walk mehn, these legs are for fancy.
My parents are awesome, you can see that through me.

And if you’re asking yourself what I am,
Think of me as a crying man.

Oh yes what I do is a full time job.
My armpits see more hands than Arab mobs.
Keep your wages I got royalty.
My employers are called parents, I’m paid to ‘be’