I wrote these between 11:30 yesterday and 12am today, Friday 25th September.

Came to save to day
Got saved anyway

I did it in my sleep
I practiced in the day
They call us lazy youth
Because we dey our dey
Godswill had a dream
He called me for a beat
I jequthiel’d on it
His cousin made it sweet

10th First
You heard first
It’s my thirst
To see you be the best
And wear wisdom like a crest

So you know I started
I’ll make you read a lot
Less than a thousand, a pound’s kin is Azikiwe not smiling.

Haptic with the flow
Thanks a lot to failure
Had to hurt to grow
Reading na im sure

Mass is ended at the 1st hour.
Funny that the second hour’s name is one o’clock
Masses have a lot of power
I’ve been training up to master what they call luck

Yet they say thia world e no balance
Is there balance?
Change? Is there a balance?
Lessons locked in idiosyncratic Naija parlance.

_till it’s 12_

Back to what I told him
I don’t have to say that I’m a Christian
It’s written in my ways and my gisting
You know how I got them
And watching
And all the while, it’s just my business I be minding.
I took the minds of kids and I armed them
When accused of pride, I don’t have a word to tell them.
I’ll be twenty minutes when I tell you I’ll be twenty-nine
I’ve lost a lot of ginja just trying to stay in line
Yes I am a rainbow
Yes I am sublime
Yes I like lime, cut and put it when I wine

It’s three minutes to 12
I keep missing Mile 12
Oh so much to delve
Into but I’ll shelve
All that like a belch


The clothes of an Idea

The corpse of an idea
A zombie in my mind
I aim far a head

My time slips by as I bid time
Calculating the different ways to save time
Constantly telling myself how I should be chaste
While I think off the skirts that I could’ve chased
Its like I let my potential just waste
While growing, adding, learning at no haste

Write, hand, write for you were made to.
My life feels like a movie part too.
I look to Jesus,
So when I’m down, I know I’m up next.

Back to the Races

Yesterday I fornicated,
Apologized, took some drugs to cure it.
But I found this all is a syndrome;
Its not about the stuff that I have done,
Its The Life that I live from,
Yes its the Truth I believe on.
That’s how the race is still won.

So no homological hope can erase this,
Only blood gets you back to the races.

Yesterday I criticized,
Wasn’t even face to face.
Heard the Spirit tell me, ‘stop,’
Yet I kept on with my mouth pace.
Am getting to that place I do everything you tell me to,
Not because of my own safety or some flimsy benefit.
But because I want to mean something.
Something good, something worthy,
Not some memory of gross disappointment,
No, a paragon of Love and Achievement.

So today I say okay, when the Spirit says to stay.
Rather than rise and fall to human praises,
LORD, lead me back to the races.

Hundred’s Ache

I believe in life after death.

In fact, what we call death is just a hibernation…. Sleep. Real death is the destruction of Identity. The Obliteration of a Soul.

GOD said a soul lasts beyond this earth. This revelation is solid.
Its there, like a strong tree, in my heart; dividing every blow of doctrine I’m dealt.

Yet why do I, believing this,
Feel great sorrow and not bliss?
When I glance
Through the memories
Of the moments
Shared with all these,
Like a vivid dream shared by many,
Their faces and names are history.

After a while, its normal that our loved ones are gone. We remember the pain as a disease we were cured from. I guess we believed in life after death – past tense. Tenses changed the moment we became tense.

But Stop!!! Oh pen,
Let us pray and sleep;
Although we reminisce and weep,
We believe that death is just a blip.

A Death and A Letter

This is a letter.

Written in replacement,
Yet original and single.
I had lost a light, 
A crown born from trouble.

One day I ask myself if it really is true when it is said, ‘opportunity knocks but once’? Is it truly so that throughout our few years on earth,  God is planning, for a few moments?

I thought of how I got saved by one man’s obedience, how I ignored that same sacrifice and yet as I jerked and backslid forward into the Democratic Republic of Damnation, screaming ‘it’s my life’ to the one who gave me life… His mercies still renewed every morning.

I am not the me I used to be and I am no me without him. So it would make sense that I live an eternal servant of the King who saved me from stabbing myself to death from the broken pieces of my heart. It would but he ironed out all that and said, ‘You are my son. Yes even my friend.’

From my heavenly place where I sat in Christ, one day I saw a flower bathing in the sunlight and it’s colours… The way it danced in the wind gave my goose bumps so that my eyes shivered with lust.

So I stared at this flower until every passing day it’s colors would paint the dawn and cool my dusk. Eventually I reached for it, but it was too far beneath me so I got down from my heavenly place to take that flower.

Now God is life and as it withered from godlessness, so did I. In my folly, rather than give my love to his life so that we would live I thought, ‘it’s my life.’ Yet He called and I ignored him until my flower withered.

We cried, laughed, fought, grew, were foolish and at times wise but… We were together until I woke up to a phone call calling my phony flower, gone. I looked up to Heaven with the sea leaking from my eyes and recalling my heavenly place I called out.

This is a letter.

Written in replacement,
Yet original and single.
I had lost a light, 
A crown born from trouble.
But, ‘I am the Resurrection,
And the Life.’ He said.
‘All who lose themselves
For my sake will find
None have imagined,
Ears have not heard,
Eyes have not seen,
What my Father prepared.’

I will sit on my heavenly place, in Christ… Only standing firm in the blood shed so I could come home.

Yours Sincerely.