|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
Down I go.
On the paths of sheol again.
The rewards of death; my hands regain.
The wheels of the plow of righteousness; i forgot to maintain.
Being led into the desert,
I stagger like one under the influence.
All the while blinded by momentary pleasures.
A walk through the arid land with cold lifeless walls as my compass.
*Surely I have lost it*
These words my mind kept a fix on.
Regurgitating it while the devil's counsel slowly seeped in.
A 'sound advice', like Job's wife, the devil gave.
Urging me to totally quit.
A sweet ballad he played into my ears.
Telling me to embrace hedonism as my new religion.
For I would surely fail in living a perfect life.
He gave me examples.
Yes.
*Your righteousness is as s filthy rag before God*
The accuser of the brethren quoted this scripture for me.
I countered.
Reminding him that self righteousness accounted as sin before God.
Telling him of the uptmost essence of the Jesus's death and grace in salvation.
"No one is perfect"
These words the devil said in retort.
Quoting a popular quip which gave leeway for people to sin.
In despair,
I tried to counter.
For my Christian walk was filled with inconsistent up and down moments.
Like a touchlight with a failing battery,
The light of Christ within me flickered.
HE then came back.
Like a sharp clack amidst deep silence,
I heard His words.
That piercing word of life that erupted joyful tears in me.
For I was a washed out version of my former self.
*My grace is sufficient for you.*
*You have an advocate before the father who pleads your case.*
These words Jesus spoke to me in reply to the devil's condemnation.
*Look unto Jesus the author and finisher of your faith...*
This charge He gave me to cleanse me of all adulteration.
*There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus*
This fact He quoted to free me from all allegations.
*Seek ye first the kingdom of God and its righteousness...*
These words He gave to guide my future aspirations.
Once more I cling to the cross.
An abandonment of my fling with death.
A willing stone in the sling of Christ Jesus.
Ready to earn new trophies to bring to His feet.
Laying them down as He calls me a king too, being a joint heir with Jesus.
#Bashorun
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
Here is to you crazy fellas
Those who are covenanted to the religion of distinctiveness
And heralds of unique unthinkable patterns
Here is a salute to you
Those, who against the popular opinion and trend, stick to their principles and confession
Thus cementing their loyalty and guaranteed blessings
Here is a tribute to you
Those, who go against traditions in a bid to creating new arts and unconditional techniques
Thus cementing their status as dynamic civilization heralds
Here is to the dogged ones
Those who despite numerous failures, get back up and try for one more time
Thus embedding their names in the scrolls of the victorious
Here is a much needed recognition
Those, behind the scenes who humbly strive to attain victory, (which most people ascribe to another)
Thus laying favorable foundations, upon which their launching forth would be smooth sailing
Here are much needed encouragement
Persistently persist in your beliefs,
For in them you shall be celebrated
Give no cognisance whatsoever to people around, Who continually discourage you for they are spectators who must cheer for you when you make it
Love yourself much,
For you will certainly not feel the love around your environs
Love God best,
For only He can give you the strength to achieve all your heart desires.
#BASHORUN
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
To the bride of Christ I pen this letter.
Aya Jesu
Nwanyi Chineke.
I see you wobbling your feet lazily.
Blissfully content with the comfort of this world.
Forgetting you were sent on an errand.
For this world remains a marketplace.
Aye.
A noisy place that resembles your home.
What have you bought, Iyawo?
What are you feeding your spirit that makes you forgetful?
Worldly pleasures have shrunk your pupils.
So much that you cannot recognize the closeness of His return.
What have you sold, Iyawo?
Which lives have you impacted upon?
What imprints have you made on your generation?
How many people have you told about your bridegroom?
You have told them; Right?
Informed them of His boundless love for all people.
Told them the testimonies of your deliverance from sin.
Showed them the evident peace that now reigns in your home;
And shared the way by which they can know Him.
I sincerely hope you are doing that now.
Else His wedding with you be called off.
For He spits out every believer that remains cold towards His commission.
Iyawo.
I wish your eyes could be opened.
To seeing the magnificent wedding plans He laid for you.
The location itself would leave you dumbfounded.
As He has decided to wed you in the grandest stage in Heaven.
Before the very eyes of all creations every created,
He will call you His own.
Your gown nko?
An exquisite material glistening with the rarest gemstones.
For you are His precious jewel of inestimable worth.
Your bridal train are already getting dressed *nne*.
Decked in holy apparels,
I must add.
Desperately praying that you do not soil your own gown.
For the bridegroom is holy and will come for a perfect bride.
Iyawo oo!!
Bashorun is already smelling the aroma of the feast being prepared.
The heavenly smell of venison.
The smell of yam pottage and jollof.
My ears detect the sound of pounding.
The aroma of *iyan*, *amala*, and 'gbo-gbo-ti-gbo' are just tantalizing my nostrils.
Ha!!
Thank God I still have the charge to write.
For I would be wishing to go home already.
As I am Kosilala.
The best friend to the food seller.
The husband to Amala and Ewedu.
And chairman at the congregation of rice.
To the bride of Christ, i write.
Your wedding date is almost at hand.
Your redeemer will come in a grand entrance.
Angels heralding His footsteps with trumpeting.
The earth trembling at His voice.
Coming to discard that engagement ring He gave you at the time of your confession.
Coming to adorn your fourth finger with a wedding ring.
Coming to take you home.
#BASHORUN
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
Against domestic violence
Pack your things and leave.
Carry your trash and go.
You have done enough.
The thoughts of you hurts
The sound of your Jordan boots bring fear.
The smell of your cologne reeks disaster
The sight of you speaks doom.
It is time for you to leave
A treasured one she is
Priceless before her creator
Yet you dare strike her.
Haaa!!!
Have you no fear of God?
Have your brains taken leave of your skull?
That you cannot remember that He is your creator.
Have your retinas taken leave of their sockets?
That you cannot witness the ripple effects of your cruelty.
Have your ears been boxed in?
That you cannot hear the agonizing screams from her mouth.
Are your eyes covered with a beam?
That you cannot see a fellow human being whimpering like a dog under your belt.
Indeed it is a truth
That a dog going astray never heed the hunters whistle.
For you are dancing with the devil.
A vigorous fanning of the embers of destruction.
Like the voice of one crying in the desert,
I write to you today.
Cease your wicked acts before you cease to exist.
Bring down that belt before you are brought down in death.
Kill that pride of yours before you are killed by that bride of yours.
Flay that ego of yours before you are flayed by that *ego (money) of yours.
To the women I write.
Leave that hurtful place before you are left in the house of mourning.
Caution your venomous tongue before you are cautioned.
Pray for your prince before you are preyed upon by your prince.
With a soft answer, wrath is turned away.
With a meek tone, anger sparks are quenched.
With Jesus as your foundation, EVERYTHING WILL WORK OUT FINE
#Bashorun
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
Light this fire of love within me for you lord.
Ignite the passion for fulfilling your purporse for my life.
A maddening disposition towards sin, I need.
A craving desire for your presence, I long for.
A living vessel unto honor, Make me.
This rejective heart of stone, Take from me.
Tentative thoughts of failure, Cast out of me.
Peace like still waters, instill in me.
I searched for you Lord.
The farthest countries, I visited when seeking true love.
Precious rubies of the earth, I coveted whilst seeking true worth.
Most glamorous pageants I attended, while seeking true beauty.
Most sophisticated gadgets I acquired while seeking social acceptance.
Most dreaded agencies I employed while seeking security.
Most intoxicating substances I took while seeking joy.
At Golgotha,
My search ended.
Seeing the cross,
The veil fell.
The messages of hope,
My mouth yearned to tell.
The merchandise of healing,
My hands desire to sell.
The Gentiles of the Earth,
I long to save from Hell.
*Jesus is the well of life*
The words I keep yelling.
For He gives me joy.
At His feet, I drop my pain
From His hands, I find my gain.
In His temple, Blessings rain.
From His courts, mercies came.
Beautified,
I became His dame.
My tongues,
He set aflame
My enemies,
He put out the sword to maim
My dungeon lions,
He sent His angels to tame.
Mountains of my struggles,
He smashed to plains.
On and on, I could go.
The seeds of thanks, i will sow.
The thoughts of pride, I will tow
Lower and lower, I will bow.
For He is my pole.
Over the murky waters of life, He is my row.
I need you Lord.
Every year of my life,
To satisfy my soul.
Every month of the year,
To deliver me.
Every day of the month,
To grant me victory.
Every hour of the day,
To make me fruitful.
Every minute of the hour,
To find my peace.
Every second of the hour,
Just to feel your love.
My generation needs your touch O mighty one.
Your clarion call we wish to obey, O lord of Hosts.
Your banners we wish to raise O Shaddai.
Over your creations we wish to dominate, o El Rohi.
The captives we wish to set free Abba Father.
The hordes of demons we wish to bind Our great God..
The sick we wish to heal O great physician.
The lame we wish to raise, o Elyon.
The barren we wish to be fruitful. O Miracle Worker.
Ablaze for you.
Dedicated to your service.
Sanctified by you.
Consecrated for your use.
This we desire,
This #bashorun prays for.
This our generation prays for.
#BASHORUN
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
T'was not easy for my lord.
Walking on that road to Golgotha.
Heaving the cross, while trudging up that hill of Calvary.
Enduring taunts and invectives from the people He was going to save.
Bitting down the pain of the scourge already inflicted on Him.
For Roman whips were laced with jagged glass pieces meant to draw out flesh when administered on any one.
It was not easy my friends.
But it was worth it.
For we are now saved due to that sacrifice.
Redeemed from the kingdom and paths of death,
Translated into the Kingdom of life and everlasting joy.
We have a comforter because of that sacrifice.
The Holy spirit who quickens our mortal bodies unto righteousness
And is always there to lift our spirits when we are down.
For we must pass through the valley of the shadow of death.
A journey needed to strengthen our faith and sweeten the testimony.
We have a key because of His sacrifice.
For His death washed off our filthy rags and made us Holy.
Holiness which gives us unrestricted entrance into the presence of God the Father of light.
It was not easy.
But it was worth it.
These words, He speaks to His church today.
For He has seen the tripled allure of sin.
And the increased efforts, the world is currently making, to redefine holiness and truth.
Stand firm my beloved.
The world will persecute you for your faith.
Your so called 'church' may even denounce you for your staunch beliefs in the excellency of my word.
Stand firm my beloved.
Against the onslaught of the media like the children of Israel in their grumble against Moses.
Keep standing.
Against the onslaught of friends like Jobs friends.
Keep standing.
Against the onslaught of detractors like Tobiah, Sanballat and Geshem.
Keep standing.
Against the onslaught of the constituted authority, like king Ahab against Prophet Elijah.
Keep standing.
Against the onslaught of your very beloved wife, like Job's.
Keep standing.
#Bashorun
Check out more of these articles at okontas.blogspot.com
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
That short 'insignificant' sex act.
Short in duration.
Pleasurable in the present,
Yet a harbinger of blackmail, heartbreak and marital problems to the future.
That 'short' sentence spoken without restraints.
Minimal in lexical terms.
Seemingly harmless in the present.
Yet, it takes root in the mind of others.
Thus paving way for self destructive thoughts in the future.
That 'little lie' spoken to avoid the present troubles.
How little it seems.
Yet it grows.
Like a onion,
Layer by layer.
Like the cold war,
Stockpiling mass destruction for the future.
That unchecked secret habit.
Not dubbed a sin by some circles.
Thus enjoyed without restraints and seeking for help.
Preparing a pathway to obsession,
And it's attendant horde of destructive thoughts .
The dark shadowy history box is its name.
For it conceals those 'discarded actions' we think are long buried
Alas!!
Like a genie lamp,
It keeps following.
Stalking and lurking in the shadows.
Waiting for the perfect moment to appear in our future.
Waiting to be opened by our future partners and business contacts.
Waiting to unveil that 'dark patch of our lives.
Waiting to mess up everything we labored for.
I weep.
For my box is not empty.
And my dark patch not clean.
Yet i run to Jesus.
Tears in my eyes.
Praying His grace buries that box permanently and make my path straight.
I know He will heed my prayers.
Even though that box will show up later,
It's devastating effects would have been nullified by the saving power of His grace.
Beloved, every action we take has an effect on the future so let us endavour to watch our every action.
#BASHORUN
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
(Against Marijuana)
*How many do you take a day?*
The journalist asked in a joking tone.
*Seventeen ni o*
The teenager replied.
Seventeen times he smoked that day.
A routine that continues till this moment.
Like an exhaust pipe,
He kept up the smoke emissions.
Like Sango, the Yoruba mythological god of thunder,
His eyes burned red and his mouth spouted fire.
One puff among friends had set off the spiral into a habit.
Triggering a degeneration into a life filled with painful regrets.
For he never could distinguish between reality and illusions.
His concept of fear changed after that puff.
For a stream of vigor seeped into his bones
And a inhuman death defying courage took roots in his mind.
His reality changed after that puff
For he ascended into a new plane.
A place devoid of the recognition of pain.
A place where all actions were stripped of their good and evil tag.
A place where all people appeared the same
And the soldier looked very much like his fellow conductor.
A place where all reverence was gone.
And all women seen as tools to be exploited.
Puff after puff, He descended.
To the lowest depths of addiction; he tumbled .
Until he smoked his seventeen joints,
The world never truly made sense.
Until he smoked his seventeen joints,
Joy evaded his mind and peace eluded his thoughts.
Until he smoked his seventeen joints,
Troubled thoughts plagued him as his hands trembled.
Beloved. Smoking of marijuana or weed, as it is popularly known, should be discouraged in all circles as it distorts reality and generally causes more harm than good.
#Bashorun
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
(AT the appeal court)
Here I am,
Standing in the dock once again.
For the evil one had sought and gotten an appeal of God's prior judgement.
With his legal standing,
The devil named me as the respondent.
And intiatiated the service of progress by means of summons to the court.
A writ of execution, he seeks.
Citing my brief fling with sin as grounds for total revocation of my joy.
A writ of certiorari, he urged the judge to order.
For my advocate, Jesus, had proved in the trial process that He died for my sins.
This record, the devil wanted to use in pushing forward his argument for my destruction
For I had indeed backslidden and counted Jesus death for naught.
To the witness stand he brought the spirit of Lie.
A vile spirit at whose sight my countenance fell.
For my mouth had failed to bridle its occupant, the tongue.
Mr Lie faced my creator and Judge.
Listing all the soft and strategic lies I had told since being 'born-again'
Presenting transcripts with concrete dates and tapes as admissible evidence.
The second witness against me was Hypocrisy.
A hideous demon at whose presence I felt my innards melt.
For he was indeed going to drive in the nails to the coffin of my destruction with myself firmly held within.
Mr Hypocrisy started his account.
Weaving a true account of my two-faced lifestyle.
A staunch church goer by day and a thieving mission engaged in by night.
A firm critic of the adulterous pastor while i secretly slept with my co-workers wife in hotels.
A strong advocate for tithe paying while no percent of my income ever came into the tithe box.
A wreck I was inside, all the while portraying the appearance of a meek sheep.
These facts, Mr Hypocrisy listed as he vacated the witness stand.
With these facts,
The devil justified his rights of unlawful detainer.
For he had held back the blessings sent to my from heaven.
With his trial brief in hand, he surged ahead.
Urging a swift demise of the previous mercy judgement.
Urging a swift judgement of damnation against me once more.
Citing Romans 6:23a as a treatise upon which my condemnation must be undertaken.
*What do you have to say against these accusations*
This question, the judge roared in my direction.
*Siirrr-rrr. I plead not guilty on grounds of self-incrimination*
This answer I stammered in reply.
To be continued in the next poem
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Nkwuka Kosi Poem
Gleam droplets of hope to a weary soul.
Large pitcher of life,
Quenching every thirst of meaning
Inspired by truth,
Still the same from age to age.
Handed down through painful sacrifice.
Inundated with power.
Saving the damned from sheol (hell)
Rescuing the oppressed from the predator.
Delivering the sick from the scourge.
Overcoming the cold clutches of death to give hope for eternal life.
A literature of refuge.
Creating a shield to protect against fiery darts.
Establishing a fortress against the minions of self destruction.
Instituting a garrison from which we could launch an attack against the forces of malice and stagnation.
The path to life
Offering instructions unto life.
Presenting reproofs to starve off destruction.
Raising praises for upliftment purposes.
Oh Ancient words!
Breathe life into us all
#BASHORUN
Copyright © Nkwuka Kosi | Year Posted 2017
|
|