Depend on God

David felt, since he was the king, he had every right to number Israel – thereby grading the nation’s forces, using the census to assess his military strength. He forgot that God didn’t want him to rely on the number of people he has or how strong/skilled they are – He wanted David to depend fully on Him. Sometimes grading your assets/strengths can make you doubt God (if they’re lesser than expected) or feel pride (if they’re greater than expected).

After David numbered the people, God punished him by reducing the population i.e. killing the people/subjects (where he thought his strength lay). God dealt with his pride.
If you think you have a number of things/assets that you can rely on – beauty, money, children, high IQ, etc; remember God can take them away in one go, to deal with your pride.
All the things you have now – no matter what you have – without God, you are/can do nothing.

The Race We Run; the Battle We Face…

You cannot enter Heaven without a Sacrifice.

You might think, well, Jesus has already sacrificed his life in order for me to preserve mine.
Yes, you’re right – God made the ultimate sacrifice by sending His Son. Even after accepting Jesus, we need to make our own human sacrifices; it mustn’t be blood (although it may be), it could be our timidity, greed, cowardice, health, family, money, etc. Persecutions are sacrificial tests to determine if we’re up to the task. You challenge God by pushing away those things that make you human.
And so you know, God loves challenges.

He loves challenges because He’s convinced that He created Masterpieces that can withstand those challenges. Job was one of His finest works created, that’s why He bragged about him to the Devil.

On the other hand, the Devil sees us as trash; and he’s trying, by all means, to prove that to God – that’s why he considers us as the ones to burn in Hell, not himself.

The Demons are bound by principles – that’s why they cannot resist the Word of God/Name of Jesus, unlike humans. THE DEMONS DON’T HAVE POWER OVER YOU!!! The wrong choices we make grants them access into our lives. They become able to possess [those] people in order to gain that power/little authority; but if humans resist, they leave (that’s why the Bible says, Resist the Devil and he’ll flee from you). In the end, we realize that with this much power/authority humans possess, the high increase and constant crimes going on in the world, is as a result of humans’ poor/wrong choices.
Let’s make the right choice today – choose Jesus, choose freedom. Choose Peace.

God doesn’t answer the prayers of some Christians because they treat Christianity like scam – checking if it works for others before trying, just in case it doesn’t they’ll leave. Christianity isn’t a bet. It’s not a race (Although the Bible describes it as a [single] race – against self).
I’ll describe it as a survival programme – in a world filled with chaos, crisis, perversions, etc only the strong (in their faith in God) would be ~worth keeping~ kept alive.
Neither God nor Satan forces/begs you to do anything. They BOTH give you a choice – to obey/succumb or not to obey/succumb.

Humans, till this day, are still casting blames on the Devil. Like Eve, despite the blames casted, you’d still be punished.
God doesn’t change.


the dark pretends to be quiet.
she’d snuggle up with naked bodies, sweat, groans
& light a small fire
in the middle of the ballroom.

as a child, there were more people than clubs.
& thoughts piled in sandbags, over the years, would
rot & be buried beneath palm trees. that’s always been our move.

these days, the streets are never silent – the party’s everywhere.
in people’s homes. in the fields. in churches. there’s no escaping this.
the red LED lights reflecting on clothes. the music. the screams. the sound –
of fresh meat being dragged into the wheelbarrow with their jeweleries &
smiles & plans for the day. there’s no escaping.

Sales Boys & Girls Needed

there are hearts here, for sale. livers as well.
the buyers are more. the sales too.

an effing job is hard to find these days,
but not the posters. not the grim smile of the nicest strangers
on a hot & bright afternoon.

in my country, some numbers are more famous than others –
like 419 than the emergency code; & the number of the dead,
than the census of the living.

sometimes you get used to all this:
not giving alms. not leaping at all. in places where the earth ahead is
quicksand, you never know

whose hand holds the sickle
to carve out your heart.
yes, here, your body is most useful.

Children Straying Into a World To Which They Don’t Belong

chastity is:
sewing up your vagina
or cutting out protruding ends.

there are cocktails & wine spilled all over the ballroom floor,
at every step
we bruise a body. the dim red lights, reaching out to us
from the dark tunnel.

the earthquakes are warming up, waiting
to take back what belongs to them:
because we’re empty cocoons
warping our existence into a frame,
to give it meaning.

yesterday i fell, & the earth took back a little of her skin.
i cursed the ground [ like god did ], but she’s only promised
to leave a bony letter to the people who’ve decided
to plant me back into the damp soil –
after digging me up unclad.

& the ballroom’s getting empty,
more people are leaving. drunk driving themselves
without a care in the world.


i don’t know how to count these days
i’m just too used to
lying in bed & watching
the little bugs
underneath my
pray so i don’t
see them. like i pray to
my unwritten poems not to tell
every now & then, people of my

you must’ve seen it once or twice –
the smashed ant struggle for it’s life
after bitter attempts to revive itself
again & again
it gives up
in the

If I Were…

die. die. die. die. just… die, please.


elementary school kids are always playing
football on the street,
no teams, just chatterboxes of wet brooms
& black holes.

the world i envisioned had no people in
it. no excuse me, where’d you think you’re going?! no questions.
no demands. no corpses
left behind

my wristwatch – favourite accessory
because everything has an end
except time herself:
must be awful.

i smear different shades of brown
foundation while staring at the bathroom mirror, & speak in tongues because my mother tongue
isn’t English, my lips break in fragments of my reflection.
this mirage is a way i try to heal,
try to not see things that exist. yes, i’m not God;
so you’re not dead yet.
they’re all probably lucky.

Serial-Chain Reactions

Photo by Anselmo Portes

there-are-several-plots-that-go-straight-in-line || opposing-shifts-letting-loose
-between-each-release ||

this-year-the-seasons-don’t-have-anything-special || &-when-i-stick-my-tongue-into
-my-eyes-it-breaks-into-severed-flesh-&-cold-blood ||

these-smiles-are-hanging-brown-leaves || swinging-on-her-ends-in-circular-motion || it’ll
-tell-you-again-&-again-winter’s-every-year-same-as-fall-same-as-always ||

a-constant-coin-toss |||| heads-disrupt-this-rhythm |||| tails-another-ethnic-voice |||| your
-chance-never-shows-up-at-a-club-fight ||| you-expect-a-miracle-during-war? ||

smile-while-the-teeth-hangs-on-a-paradigm-swing || a-shift-to-make-you-think-you’ve-landed-a-tail || but-your-head-falls-right-underneath-the-guillotine ||

that-smile-becomes-a-withered-tree ||

Swimming Lessons


don’t breathe,
i whisper sentimentally
you’d only draw in water

as the tides hit the rocks
feed lightly on the faintest light flicker
but don’t ever let it consume you

don’t breathe
until you’re out of the water;
your body controlling every chaos, lifting your scepter
until the floating bodies forget what they once were.

Praying Mantis

Art by poofmongoose

my pastor’s jaw holds one knife
with two blades saying
in university, cult boys don’t like
ugly girls. you ought
to thank god
you’re ugly.

we all did – chorusing chatters for a scratch
splatters of acid rain on our wooden skin –
i’m glad my straw limbs are most flexible than my prayers. i’m sure
grateful my bloody count hold twice
less than the ravens’ laughter.

you ought to be grateful
the corsets fit better
than your socks.
the winds don’t know this
just brush past me hurriedly
into a ditch

filled with a congregation of mantises
praying to be something else.