The Sky has seen IT

The sky saw it
It’s seen it all
the risings, the falls
different melodies
different lyrics
same song

The rise of empires
through snow and through fire
The treason
The evil reigns
the betrayals. It’s seen the entire war

The sky saw it,
He witnessed it
when a brother killed another,
over some sacrifice.
  Was it the sacrifice or inner pride lit?

The sky was there,
looking at it all very clear
just yesterday,
when stupidity wrapped up itself in bombs to blow up its friend’s friends’ colleagues and possibly relatives;
all in the name of religion
I don’t buy it;I’m not broke
I just think the demon inside was provided an opportunity to express itself

The sky was also silently observing, clouds of wrinkles on his face.
As one man decided to eliminate a whole race
Some say cos he thought them corrupt
Or was he mad?
Unlikely,  he made those brilliant plans
Hitler probably just had the same problem of the dysfunctional heart that needed fixin;
Needed grace

Don’t you see what the sky has been seeing?
Are you blind or do you just close eyes in self deceit?
Shut The entrance to your being
Is that fear, are you fleeing;running from the truth?
Or You just don’t want to admit it?

It’s the same problem
from Sodom, to Corinth to Harlem
The rapes, the isms; the terrible terrible isms
The KKK and the Al qaeda
All have tattoos etched in handwriting of  serpent

Oh! Humanity
The irony
How inhumane humans are born
How the inherited default setting is just not it
Wicked mathematics: pride plus tyranny

What can man then do?
What should he do?
Are the questions from within
louder than lightning- stalking thunder
that screams right after we see tips of the answers to?

It  points to the ground
but it starts from the clouds
lightning showing that man has to humbly realise he can’t save himself
and look up to the one who’s able
to turn him around

The sky was present
when God came & dwelt amongst men
To make a way,To save the finest of his creatures
to make them new & To initiate an eternal relationship
Once lost back then

Invited are all
Every one is called
The rich & poor
the whole wide world
To eat freely of this free life giving banquet hall
                                                 T-shegz

LETTER TO A FRIEND

In time past, distance has kept me far away from you ‘cos i thought that a long distance relationship is nothing else but a mirage of the original. But the truth is you were closer than I actually assumed you were.  Baring into my soul with your wisdom I had so long ago forgotten, the jokes that cracked me up when i had nearly drowned in my pool of tears.  And the truth is that I MISS YOU. Even though now I treat you like the next door neighbour I’m obliged to say “Hey friend,  Good Morning” to,  I STILL MISS YOU.The truth is that my insecurities and trust issues has kept me far away from you(seems like I say ‘But the truth is’ a lot,  but I’m saying the truth). So I’m deciding to reconnect with you. You know everyone recommends Facebook, even though I’m not a big fan, I’ll gladly add you as my Facebook friend. Someone told me that twitter is for lazy people and Instagram is for lazy people who can’t read and honestly I really don’t get what twitter or twittering is all about but for YOU I’ll twit,  follow or whatever they do on twitter( I’m still confused about twitter is all about) so that I can just reconnect with you. Ok, now it seems like I’m a jitterbug and I always seem this way when I’ve lost an important part of myself. So Let’s cut to the chase,  I NEED YOU. You have been a brother, A FRIEND…. So please, could we reconnect by any means, owner’s choice, even if you think prayer would work then I’m all for it. You are the only true friend I should have and I need but I was all around the world looking for a side chick even when I could have side checked for you and ‘friend zoned’ you  even though I never made a friend out of you. YOU ARE MY FRIEND AND I NEED YOU.
                                                                                       Yours truly,
                                                                             A friend who misses you.

GRAB A SEAT

Sitting on an electric chair for a man who is on death row does so much for him. The pleas and tears fill the hallowed room as he is strapped down to the chair his fate. And in that moment, before the high current blasts through his skin; before the smell of his burning skin hits his nose; before the screams from his own voice fills his own ears which would soon be stone cold, He remembers the times when a word was more than enough for the wise. Flashes of second chances skip swiftly like a montage playing before his very eyes.
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil and most importantly do no evil was his mother’s song and yet evil became abundant in his heart and that was all he had to give. Ignoring the grace given to him to push through the barrier of self- hatred and loathe, he pushed the anger of his sins to others, others that willingly showed him the spot of light at the end of the dark tunnel. He had lost it all (even though he realised it too late), the life which he cherished like a new born in the arms of the mother. Second chances flee away from his eyes as they are only called second chances when the first is foolishly ignored.
Sitting on an electric chair does so much to a man, for at that moment all that he’s conscious of is the cold bony grip of the Grimm reaper on his neck, collecting the soul he has long craved for. But sitting on a chair does nothing to a man, sometimes, because that’s when he decides to take the second chance given to him by his Almighty father or as my people call it, his ”chi” or foolishly ignore it like the first.
Maybe we should all strap 3000volts of energy to our wooden chairs and see what choice we would not foolishly make because maybe, just maybe, an electric chair might be more effective than a wooden one.

What Is It With Love Anyway?

Going home that night, I thought and thought about this topic and I was more or less spring-cleaning my brain, searching for something. Lord give me a sign! How am I of all people supposed to write about a topic that even Solomon in all his wisdom (and he was very wise… his name is a metaphor for God’s sake!) could not define? Ha! Talk about being in a fix.
Racking my brain and listening to the rattling sound in my head, I still hadn’t come up with anything, and this was a full hour after I heard about the topic. Then suddenly, this light bulb in my head turned on just like it does in Jimmy Neutron’s when he hits one of those his super-unbelievably-brilliant-for-a-little-boy-ideas; I actually wrote a sorta poem about love one time! Eureka! Well… at least until I found out that it wasn’t with me at the moment I needed it the most. Suddenly, I knew what I wanted to write about. I was gonna write about “what love is not”

You see, a wise person once told me that even if you do not know what exactly it is you seek, knowing what it isn’t could help you find it at the end of the day. For instance, if you don’t know what a good chair should look like but you at least know that it’s not round like your wedding ring or fluffy and soft like your kid brother’s diaper that’s full of poo, then you should be able to find yourself a good chair, using those facts you have as a form of check. Something like what girls do when they think they’ve found THE ONE…

Not shorter than me….check
Does not watch football….check
Does not forget my birthday….check

Oh puhleeeez ladies! Get over yourselves!

You see many people who have been abused at one

Purely Physical

I’m bankrupt without love!
It’s like Mount Vesuvius spiting nothing but ash
Like a living corpse, dead but breathing
For my account of love is empty
And all I have, saved or current; is nothing but an empty bottle of love potion
For I’ve focused on everything tangible and other things visible
My lens accommodated to view vanity and everything purely physical
For they say physical is real, it is easily believed
Believing that no one could love me only if I had a physique that were as large as the great walls of China
If only i was Schwarzenegger to my Pinocchio
Filling my heart with steroids of lies and magazines of people who looked like caricatures drawn on a torn canvas
Modelling myself to their disproportionate image, and now I began to proportionate my love to things which make no meaning
Never knowing that all was meaningless, Less of His love and more of me
Exercising my body physically but

Steps In The Name of Love

Wise as I thought I was
Heading on without a certainty of a credible future
I picked up whatever was left of my scarred, bruised, indented self
This was one of the usual moments when I hit a rock and toppled onto the earth
The first having little effect; a reminder that the road was not ‘perfectly’ smooth
Second, third………was there ever going to be a last?

Ah! Alas!