a very determined writer (poet and lyricist), hoping to change the world positively with writing, public speaking, spoken word poetry, music (songwriting), dancing, and lots more. let's encourage each other and live the life we deserve 😇😇.
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.
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.
stillness: 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.
motion: 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.
frenzy: 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.
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 skin pray so i don’t see them. like i pray to my unwritten poems not to tell every now & then, people of my obscenity.
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 end.
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.
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.