Faith without Work

I asked the man who proclaimed
of phenomenal success ahead:
Is it enough
to fill yourself with hope
Make empty prophesy
built on quick-sand
but with no work to back it up?
Sure, we could go on
sound like the preacher man
and quote all of life’s motivation
but if there’s no feasible road-map,
all that’s said means nothing
because tomorrow when you wake
you’ll still be lying on the same misery bed
you rested on the night before,
Hoping the day after will be great
Like you did yesterday for today.

Staircase to Heaven

I walk the staircase to heaven
to capture the promises
I was told on earth
that I’ll receive for my toil.
I had been diligent;
servicing humanity
knowing with certainty
that my treasure lie in divinity.
But as I depart
I see you cry, you miss me
you wish I stayed
you feel betrayed.
Please my child, know
that my earthly journey was done
and a new chapter I had to open;
just like a child repeating a class
is considered as stagnation
my transcendence is a progress.
But I’ll keep watch over you
and for every stride you make
I’ll crack a smile with pride.

Written for Dara Etuk on the demise of her Dad.


Image Credit: Robert Bartow 2015 via Trakmedian.com

Internally Displaced People

They said if I have a country
And pledge allegiance to the flag
I will benefit from economic growth
and superior Purchasing Power Parity.

They said if I belong to a people
who share a common theme,
a sense of culture and nationalism
I’ll feel a strong fraternity.

But I have a country
with no place to call home,
a people I identify with
but to them I’m just a number.

That is why blood spilled
means nothing to the spiller
and my burnt home
is just another minor glitch.


Lord’s Note: Written in dedication to the internally displaced people in Nigeria brought about by religious and tribal unrest. Peace and light! 


Image Credit: Aris Messinis / AFP / Getty Images. 

Flowery End

Today I witnessed
the flower of a plant
unhinge and drop.
At the start of spring
it had budded and sprung
then blossomed and smiled
to the admiration of onlookers.
Horticulturist tended to its beauty
Then the folks with extra euros
paid to take it home,
it will be a worthy companion
in their backyard garden.
Now its time in the sun is done
its nectar completely sucked
Leaving it dry and weary
with no strength to cling
to the floral axis.
It descended casually to the soil
where its purpose of existence will change.

Image Credit: Freewallpapers.com

We Are All Performers

Each, in their time,
will mount the stage
with performance starting
from the moment
the first cry is made
to signal breath of life.
Eyes gaze to analyse
from the gender to its aesthetic
Is it cute?
Can we like it?
What “colour”?
Then the curiosity graduates to:
can they learn fast?
How smart can they be?
Then it evolves:
ambition starts getting compared
who wants to be a pilot?
Who will be a teacher?
We measure,
then we test
and test some more based on metrics.
A fish must climb the tree
so the fish learns quite quickly
that the swiftness of its fin
will never be examined in water.
It starts to perform
putting up a show
creating an illusion of climbing.
Some manage to leave the stage
when the ovation is loudest,
others stay behind, too long
so that yesterday’s hero
become today’s villain.
For the majority
their show will never be watched
but that means nothing to the fish
who has been swimming in water.
It is the fish trying to climb a tree
that suffers the hang up.

Image credit: Toni Carthan via Pinterest

Fully Empty

The room is full
but the silence is deafening;
the room is full
but the silence deafens me.
I am in your arms
but the warmth freezes me
I feel your touch
yet loneliness is a friend of me.
The room is full
but the silence deafens me;
the room is full
but the silence inside is deafening.
I see you in front of me
but I know deep down
you’re miles away from me
your story has a thousand words
but they land on my ears like empty barrels.
Unplugged from the socket
the energy stopped flowing
I ran out of battery life – I’m flat.
The room is full
but the silence deafens me
and I have the impression
I’ll find true company when left alone.

Image credit: Rose Waugh

Mike’s Demise

At the graveside
the eulogy was read
words of appreciation spewed;
flowers – the most expensive
of the season –
laid around the catafalque
to show respect.
Tears flowed,
if it was a ribbon
it’ll be measured in miles.
But all this while
when Mike was alive
love towards him was meagre
attention stingily given.
Standing there, holding tears
Kanye’s line hit me:
“People never get the flowers –
while they can still smell ’em.”


Image credit: here.

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