COULD BE

There’s something in us that was made for glory

It seeks, desperately craves attention

An insatiable abyss

Potholes on Eko streets

Never-ending…

No matter how famous we get,

it keeps us thirsting, yearning, begging

for more

panting, salivating even when

our lips are sealed shut

mad dogs in bespoke suits

some of us mask it, others can’t afford the balaclavas

a goal to some, a ball to others

same playing field, just different boot sizes

scoring accounts and autographing with brown "lip sticks"

and when the vaults are empty

or the stubs stop smoldering

we sing Oliver Twist

to the heartbeat of wall street

and queue at the orchard for the next potter…

Clays never satisfied with their update,

shapes constantly negating their mold.

It’s a sleek strip of red rainbow,

hot multi-faceted hunger

emoji’d on screens glaring back at our void souls.

It’s perplexing how no app

has been programmed for it yet, perhaps

no angel investor has

deep enough pockets to swallow the projections...

truth like brick only rips our gullets

and cravings are profitable,

yet profits don’t lie with us

when we reminisce at the sunset of our seas

so let’s cavalry to the beach

and watch the next expendables – our reflections in the water

what we could be -

content, satisfied beings in YHWH’s glory

beautiful tapestries soiled by humus that came from dust…

contorted beyond the recognition of He who wove them

There’s something in us that was made for glory

And it is only in Him that we will find it

Image: courtesy of LionAid via google.com 

BUREAU OF LIFE [X]

Continued from Bureau of Life [IX]

Mosun stormed into the parking lot outside the complex, mumbling swear words in frustration. She got crabby anytime Gbenga’s ghost was resurrected in conversations or thought. When Gbenga had come to her with the proposition that the budding organization had offered him, she had been supportive of the ill-researched move. She had convinced Gbenga to become an executive member of the organization and to endorse it.

Unknown to her, Tiamiyu and his cronies had ulterior motives and before the wake of a year, Gbenga was spiralling down the tunnel of decadence. Gbenga started getting materialistic, toned down the amount of biblical references he made in his songs, transitioned into inspirational singing and kept late nights.

“Sorry ma,” Benjay said and kicked Mosun out of her reverie. Mosun stared at the shabbily-dressed being leaning on her Prius.

“Listen, I don’t have any change on me right now.” Mosun pressed the unlock button on the remote in her hand and the car beeped.

“I would be insulted if I wasn’t here by instruction.” Benjay said, catching Mosun off-guard. She didn’t expect such polished English from him.

“What do you want?”

“You convinced him to join the organization and now you feel responsible for his fall and eventual demise.”

“What?” Mosun looked round her to be sure the tout was talking to her.

“That’s what you were just thinking.” Benjay said

Now Mosun was scared but she tried to act valiant.

“Take your cheap clairvoyance somewhere else.” She opened her car, slid in, slammed the door behind her, and pinned the central lock.

Benjay figured he’d slammed his one chance of getting across to the woman “The Voice” said was instrumental to the campaign. He had anticipated her reaction. He placed a sheet of paper on Mosun’s windshield as she reversed the car out of her spot. She looked up at it and saw 080-ELBENJAY scribbled on the paper.

“Elion sent me to you.” She heard Benjay’s muted voice. She spun her wheels, engaged the drive gear and sped off.

Benjay watched her drive off like a demented being.

“This is really getting frustrating,” he muttered. “Did you really ask me to do this or do I need psychological help?”

***

The nine heads of departments in the Bureau were seated in the golden room – the only one in the entire complex. Nobody had any idea why Mackel had summoned all of them here, but their guts agreed that this was an emergency. Mackel hadn’t called for an assembly of the heads in the last twelve Zion years. He was seated at the head of the glass-paneled table, his brooch of authority placed by his arm as was the custom during emergencies.

“I have summoned this assembly for the preliminary hearing of an act that is ruled in the edicts as treason.”

The last word got heads turning, except Amaziel and Luciel’s.

“That’s not a light word to use sir,” Remuel, Tephillah Department’s boss, noted. Tephillah Department received and processed prayers.

“Reports garnered from code 234 suggest that Luciel has violated the 7^th edict of the Zionic Codex.”

Silence rocked the golden room. Several faces turned to question Luciel but he maintained a poker face. He knew he had finally been caught in his game and the time had come to activate Luciff’s plan.

Yadiel, Yaddah Department’s boss, was the first to split the silence. “My department hasn’t received any information in that regard.”

“I know. I have no idea why Elion’s Spirit has kept mute on this but Luciel within the last five earth-years has been usurping Elion’s glory and I suspect he is in cahoots with Luciff.”

Another wave of shock rocked the room. It was difficult for the departmental heads to swallow the fact that one of them was dealing with Luciff. Luciff was the father of traitors, cast to earth a million Zionic years ago. Before his exile, Luciff was the chief amongst Elion’s creature, higher in rank than even the elders. In his prime, he led Zion in the worship of Elion. Then he assumed too much authority and argued with Elion that creating humanity was a mistake.

At the height of his foolishness and mutiny, Elion derobed him and cast him out of Zion along with his cohorts – a third of angels in Zion. From that day, his sole ambition became the disruption of Elion’s love for humanity. His existence now evolved around his quest to prove that he had been right all along. He was despised in Zion and the mere mention of his name brought back memories of the wars that raged when he and his minions were ostracized.

“I suspect they are planning--” Mackel continued but he was interrupted by a surge of essence that filled the room in a matter of Zionic split-seconds. One moment, Mackel was seated at the head of the golden room glass panel, the next moment he was standing by it and Jackiel, the Bureau of Life’s Overseer, was seated in his place.

All departmental heads rose in respect to their superior but no word was uttered.

“From the throne room, I have been ordered to reassign you, Mackel, Prince of the Bureau of Life, to Inventions,” Jackiel uttered with clenched teeth. “Henceforth, you are relieved of all duties and Amaziel of Shammah Department assumes all your duties.” Everyone watched in confusion but no gestures where made and no questions were asked.

“Let it be to me according to Elion’s will,” Mackel responded. Then Jackiel vanished, just as he had appeared, taking his essence with him. Mackel looked round the room at the confused faces but made no remarks. Then he picked up the golden brooch, walked over to Amaziel and pinned it on the cape of her white coat.

While everyone watched in dismay, Mackel walked out of the golden room demoted, deflated, and listless. However, he registered no complaints. He was confident in the surety of Elion’s plans. He didn’t have to understand why he was demoted, he just had to obey. 

Image courtesy of epic pew via google.com

To be continued

JONAH NO MORE

Written from the belly of the beast...

The slime my ink, the rumblings my thoughts... 

Thinking about the mission, thinking about the call 

It was crisp – Write till there’s nothing left 

Till the world hears 

Till the last arrow has been struck… 

The reward was a crown up above 

Yet I sought glitters down here 

Hunting nothing, nothing of value 

I trusted my plans over yours 

Allowed their wants swallow my needs 

I jonahed, not just myself but my home 

In my search for sparkles, I brought home thorns 

I am sorry. 

I want the mission now. I need it.

If you would have me and lead me again 

Sever the strings that make me lead 

Gold me up 

Scale my eyes to these false lights 

Drown my fears of the unknown with your UNKNOWN 

For a day in the dark with you beats 1000 years in a lit up fallacy 

I don’t wanna be a Jonah no more 

I know you sent me here to be more like Paul 

So, swallow me 

Do not vomit me till the scrolls have been written; 

my ink your blood,

my thoughts your Spirit,

my words be You 

Make me you in flesh... 

Flow Elion flow 

Flow Elion flow 

Till all that is left of this Jonah is Paul.

Image - courtesy google.com

GRATITUDE BY A MINOR

Sometimes my lips are too unworthy to say "Thank You" 

Too unholy to glorify you 

But my heart is grateful 

When I can't think of why you've been faithful 

And my actions betray my intentions 

I consider your affections 

Lord I'm amazed by your concern 

Your understanding when I can't discern 

what you need me to do 

When my feet fail, you move 

And when my faith falls 

You remind me why I received the call 

There is no thanking you enough 

For the peace you bring when the seas are rough 

When sin stands at the door and knocks 

Thank you for answering and sealing the locks 

Thank you for the best teacher in the world 

For without the Holy Ghost, I'd be with the worms 

I see Eternity through a lens darkly 

I only know your grace partly 

But I'm confident that where I end, you begin 

And for this I thank you 

For it means that even though I don't understand you 

You completely get me 

And that's okay with me

Image credit: givememora.com via google

THE HORSEMEN [3]

The following is based on events articulated in Revelations VI...

Akani Salvador stood on the deserted Prisons Street, the Saturday sun breathing down his nape. All he had was a black polythene bag which held his belongings, a Bible and a dirty t-shirt. He still hadn’t accepted the fact that he’d been freed from prison – Somto’s prophecy had been fulfilled.

After the execution had been suspended, it took the prison services about three hours to process his pardon and release. 

He had no idea where he would go from here – there was no family before he entered prison, none would be waiting now. The only friends he had before prison were renowned criminals; he wasn’t ready to go back to that scum. The voice that spoke to him while he was still bound at the squad had said that he would be waiting outside – but there was no one in sight. 

He turned left and trudged on towards Apapa – his shadow leading him. 

Out of nowhere, a shadow appeared beside his. Akani’s heart faltered and he stopped in midstride. The shadow was at least three times his, in girth and height and it had wings. The shadow shimmered in translucence. Akani turned to his left and saw light dusts swirl around Ariel. He dropped to his knees is fear. 

“Jesus… Jesus… Jesus…” He kept muttering in fear. His heart quaked as he inhaled the dusty road, limbs trembling. 

“He’s in Zion,” Ariel said and touched Akani’s back. Electric bolts surged through Akani’s body but he didn’t raise his head. 

“What do you want with me?” Akani asked. 

“I don’t want anything from you, just here to make sure you fulfill purpose.” Ariel responded. 

“What purpose is that?” 

“For the last fifteen months, you’ve been faithful in little – tending the prisons fellowship,” Ariel said. “Now, you’ve been given a great mandate.” 

“Which is?” Akani asked, still trembling. 

“Warn the world about the imminence of the end.” Ariel responded. “And don’t ask me why YHWH chose an ex-convict like you. I don’t know why. You’ll have to ask him yourself. For now, I’m here to ensure you do his will.” 

“How do I go about doing this?” “Well, address, elders of the seven churches,” Ariel said. “Before you ask, the seven churches are the church in Africa, Rome, England, North America, South America, Middle East, and Asia.” 

“I am just an ex-convict… how…?” Akani stuttered. 

“You have a lot of doubts for someone who just walked out of an execution.” Ariel replied. 

*** 

Aigbe Badejo, President of the Nigerian Association of Pentecostals (NAP), watched the whiskey swirl in the glass in front of him. His palms were sweaty and his tongue thick. The whiskey hadn’t helped. The heart palpitations had come again, third time this week. His doctor had recommended rest. But rest wasn’t an option now; NAP elections were around the corner and he had to retain the office. The office opened doors world over. 

The door to his office opened. Sylvia, his secretary, poked her head in. He motioned for her to come in and shut the door behind her. She did as he returned his gaze to the glass. 

“Sir,” She curtseyed, “he’s still waiting.” 

“Tell him I’m out.” He said without taking his eyes off the glass. Sylvia hesitated, not sure how the haggard-looking guest outside would feel. He’d been waiting at the reception for over an hour. And he knew Badejo was in. 

“Stop thinking and do what you are told.” Badejo jarred her thoughts. As she turned to go, the door opened and in walked Akani. Sylvia stopped dead in her tracks. This guy wasn’t just patient, he had temerity. Badejo snuck the glass of whiskey off his oakwood desk. 

“Sir, please--" She attempted to ask him out but—

“—Mr Badejo, you need to hear me out.” Akani beat her attempt. “YHWH sent me to you.” 

“Get out of my office!” Badejo barked. Akani stared astounded. Was this the NAP president? 

“Sir, the church--" Akani found his voice “--I said get out!” Badejo slammed his desk with his left palm, sending a receptacle of stationery skittering. “How dare you barge into my office and claim to have a message from YHWH? Am I deaf? Can’t he talk to me directly?” 

The transformation from calm pastor to tyrant shocked even Sylvia. The only time the NAP president had gotten this violent was when she mistakenly walked in on him making out with a church member. 

“And what are you still waiting for?” Badejo turned to Sylvia. “Get the guards!” 

She didn’t need to, because two guards rushed into the office. 

Akani kept staring. This wasn’t how Ariel had said this would go. Unknown to him, Ariel and his team were battling the hundreds of demons that cloaked the climate around Badejo’s office. Ariel’s team was losing.

To be continued...

Image credit: Google Images

THE HORSEMEN [ 2 ]

The following is based on events articulated in Revelations VI...

Yehoshua took the seven stars in his right hand and placed them above the green-flamed parchments. The first page of the parchments flipped open, releasing a white puff of cloud. Yehoshua blew gently on the puff of cloud. The puff shifted and a sturdy white horse leapt out of the green-flamed parchment, landing in front of Yehoshua. The white horse grunted as Yehoshua patted its manes.

“Ariel,” Yehoshua said, his voice was the same as the YHWH’s, echoing down the rows of thousands of angels. From the row of Archangels, Ariel, the General from the Bureau of War, rose from his knees with spread his wings. With one swoop of his wings, Ariel arrived before Yehoshua, sabre-tooth claymore drawn and left knee bowed. 

“You will ride the white one,” Yehoshua continued. “You and your band of arms will fight with and protect the elected one, Akani Salvador. He’s at Kiri-kiri prisons, Section 80, Quadrant 4, Code 234, Time-zone GMT+1.” 

“As you will,” Ariel responded without raising his head. 

“Rise,” Yehoshua said. Ariel rose and mounted the white horse. The horse levitated and galloped off in air, leaving behind a blaze of glory. As the horse flew above the row of angels, five angels rose, spread their wings and followed after Ariel. 

*** 

The firing squad was quiet. The thin crowd standing by anticipated the captain’s “Fire” with bated breaths, but it didn’t come… For sixty seconds, the four sergeants on their knees waited for the order, rifles cocked, aims trained, mind cleared, fingers hooked… but the order didn’t come. 

The suspense was unbearable for Akani. He couldn’t fathom why the order had taken so long to come. The longer he waited, the more his thoughts dwelt on the possibility of his postponed death. Yet deep down, he wanted to die. He had dug so deep into the faith that he lived daily on the cusps of heaven. 

“Not so fast” He heard a voice mutter deep within his thoughts. At first, he felt it was just his subconscious, but the voice came again. “My name isn’t subconscious, I am Ariel.” 

“Who?” Akani asked out loud, uncertain of the veracity of the voice he heard. 

“Not so loud,” the voice responded. “We are here to get you out.” 

Captain Usman observed Akani muttering to himself through the corner of his eyes. He held a letter of clemency in hand brought in by the Head of prison services. The letter was signed by the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. 

“Sir, this was signed today.” Captain Usman whispered to Isiaku Bako, head of prisons services.

“That’s why I had to come myself,” Isiaku whispered in return. 

Isiaku Bako been woken by a call from the presidency telling the prisoner Akani Salvador had been granted the presidential pardon today. When he put a call through to Kiri-kiri prisons, he’d been told Akani was due for execution today. The only thing that would stop Akani’s execution was a physical presentation of the letter to the police executioners - because the executioners operated independently of the prison’s services. 

By the time he’d flown into Lagos, the prisoner had already been lined up for execution. The warden at Kiri-kiri was skeptical about calling off Akani’s execution because he was scared of how it would play out in the media. But Isiaku was more concerned about the presidency’s wrath than the media’s pen. 

“Sir, you have to understand that I answer only to my boss.” Captain Usman whispered again. 

“And he answers to the presidency,” Isiaku responded. 

 “Shoot already!” One of the prisoners on the firing squad screamed in frustration, but nothing happened - Not even after he added a string of expletives. 

“At ease!” Captain Usman barked at the sergeants, they all turned to stare at him, confused. 

“I said, ‘At ease’” he screamed. The sergeants lowered their weapon and rose. 

“This execution has been suspended by a presidential order.” Captain Usman announced and gasps rippled through the thin crowd.

To be continued...

Image credit: Google Images

THE HORSEMEN [ 1 ]

The following is based on events articulated in Revelations VI...

WHITE

The sea of glass was endless. Its undulating waves, stoked by the glory that radiated from the white throne, rocked the crystal bubbles that enveloped blue flames. The bubbles were embers from the ball of charged flame that enveloped the throne. About a hundred meters round the white throne, angels numbering tens of thousands bowed in worship, their lips muttering words too heavenly to be spoken by humans. They were arranged in rows; Seraphs, Cherubs, Archangels, Angels. 

This sea of glassy glory was Zion’s Throne Room. 

Fifty meters from the throne, the Council-of-Elders knelt face-flat on a golden ring bobbing on the sea of glass; they were twenty-three of them. A rainbow of colors sipped from every pore in their bodies as they showered reverence on the being that sat on the flaming throne – YHWH. 

 Above the worshiping angels, Zar, the chief of the council of elders, flew with light-splitting speed towards the blazing throne. His eyes were shut but the glory from the throne steered his course. He arrived at the golden ring and descended in a glide. Like the other elders, he was wrapped in a glowing grey frock. His silky white hair danced down to his waist and his beard whipped in response to the charges from the throne. He held a clutch of green-flamed parchments in his hands – hands with glassy skin. 

Head bowed, Zar stretched the parchments towards the white throne. The throne room went silent. The worshiping ceased. 

“Eternal One,” Zar said, “the parchments.” His voice was a whisper, yet heard by the ten-thousands in the throne room. The green-flamed parchments floated off Zar’s hands towards the flaming throne. When it entered the charged flames, the parchment burst into a flurry of colors that cannot be described in any human terms, and then it disappeared. Zar dropped to his knees and flattened his face. 

“Well done, Zar.” A voice like the oceans spoke. The sea of glass rippled as it echoed the voice, the flames leapt, and every angel felt the voice soothe their skin. This was the voice of YHWH. 

“The end has come,” YHWH continued. “Yehoshua will orchestrate the final prophecies concerning earth from Zion, until it is time for the Armageddon.”

“Glory, Hallelujah.” The entire throne room thundered as all the angels praised YHWH for his infinite wisdom. 

The flames around the throne parted and a huge man in golden apparel stepped out. His head was wrapped in hairs like white wool; his eyes were balls of flames; his legs and arms were fine brass purified in a smelting pot. In his right hand he held seven stars and in his left he held the green-flamed parchments. His countenance was too bright to be beheld with human eyes. 

“We adore you, Yehoshua.” The throne room thundered again.

*** 

After four years on death row, Akani Salvador had finally been brought to the firing squad. He stood on the field of elephant grass, bound to a steel pole alongside four other convicts. His pulse pulsated in his ears, threatening to tear his ear drums. His skin rippled with sweat from the midday sun of October 1st, 2016; Nigeria’s Independence Day. Akani faced execution on the day Nigeria broke the bonds of colonialism.

 He was convicted for murder during a bank robbery that went awry. After months of careful planning, someone had tipped off the police and a bloodbath had followed in the ensuing shootout. He lost his crew in the shootout. His trial had been short. 

When he first arrived in Kiri-kiri prisons, he had been despondent. His days were fraught with fear of his impending execution. Though a thug at heart, he couldn’t bring himself to accept death; no human fully embraced death. When he slept he had nightmares of his execution and in the daytime he heard the walls whisper tales of his death. 

Before Kiri-kiri, he had been hefty, but six months after, fear had gnawed away his confidence in life, eroding his desire for anything healthy. He had become a lanky mast, drinking daily from the fountain of death and wallowing in all shades of grief and regrets. 

A year after sentencing, Akani was transferred to the B-Wing where he met Somto, the prophet. Somto was the Pastor in B-wing. He led fellowship and gave false hopes to inmate about a mythical city called Zion, where the souls of the righteous went after death on earth. Even though Somto was on death-row, he was always joyous. His joy was a source of annoyance for Akani; Somto’s joy was hypocrisy. How could someone who had murdered his wife and two children, during a marijuana high, call himself righteous? 

In spite of the disgust he felt for Somto, Akani never confronted him. However, their paths crossed some weeks after Akani’s transfer, when Somto approached him and said he had a message from YHWH. Akani had dismissed but Somto persisted. What was the message? That Akani would be freed from prison. 

Akani was too miserable to laugh, so he had just walked away from Somto. This was before Akani’s execution was postponed – twice. After the second postponement, Akani sat with Somto to talk and joined the prison fellowship. The words from the scriptures gave Akani hope, and he grew in faith and zeal even though he struggled with guilt from his past. But Somto always reminded him that YHWH could make use of everything we’ve been through, if we let him. Seven months after Akani joined the fellowship, Somto was executed at the firing squad. Members of the prison fellowship elected Akani to take over. This was fifteen months ago. 

Akani sniffed the dirt from the rag that bound his eyes. It smelt like lavender. Strange that such a welcome smell would come from a dirt rag. He felt a calm overwhelm him as the sweat on his skin dried up. His pulse evened and the fear that had enveloped him fled. He had no idea what was happening but he knew he wasn’t going to die today. What gave him that confidence, he had no idea.

“Take your aim,” he heard the supervising captain scream.

To be continued...

Image credit: Google