Religion, Beliefs

GOD IS NOT RELIGION
(8th February, 2010.)
God is not a Christian,
he had slain every Muslim.
God is not a Muslim;
christians would’ve long been gone.
He isn’t an Imam in a pillared building
furnished with mats – facing east ward;
Nor a prelate in an arranged blocks
furnished with pews – reciting a creed.
Never had he held high the banner
of a crescent – moon with a lone – star;
Nor will ever held high the banner
of a carved plus – known as cross.
He abides in love – constructed hearts,
furnished with pearls of peace.
And at the sight of dawn you know…
love is not God – God is love.
-B. M. Atsen


YOU AND THIS YOUR LOVE…
(17th April, 2009.)
Your priority, Lord, has been me;
A mud, a dusty mortal.
Out of love, you breathe a breathe,
A breeze to make me live.
.
You bestow on me your greatness;
To rule my seniors (the creations before me.)
You made them serve me,
Just to serve only you.
.
And now…
You and this your love for me,
Has saved me through the cross;
Oh! How I want to love – your way.
-B. M. Atsen


A BLACK PEACE
(7th May, 2007.)
Fate! The determiner,
At a dead end we are.
Unacquainted was the city to me;
But bones of a fallen hero.
It’s no more a fiction,
But the bitter truth.
.
My head was confused,
As night comes through day.
The affairs changed;
It seems to be a sham,
No! Not a sham,
Uncanny I suppose.
.
The patience of peace was tested,
And away it goes.
The sun is now shy to look at us,
But in anger, it sends down hash rays.
The breeze now coughs,
And the air stale with smoke.
.
Look! Dropping arrows,
Can you sight them?
Listen! Drops of stones,
You see them?
But no, you’re dead;
Killed by them.
.
Shaky was the city then,
Men strayed away.
Imams and prelates
were cold bloodedly killed,
Gunned down with shotguns
As though were animals.
.
Our worship fences were down;
Ubiquitously, innocent saints cry.
It becomes a paradise,
Left to rot in hell.
Adding salt to injury,
Rumor said, “It’s not yet over!”
.
My little children!
My little tyros!
When in your days,
Of you a favor I need:
Re – structure my destitute Plateau;
Doomed not by religious discrepancy.
-B. M. Atsen



FORGIVE
(13th March, 2008.)
Oh yes! He was right to cistern,
Right to Twenty – pieces of shekels,
Right to adulteress Zuleka;
Even righteous to incarceration.
.
He was right to thirty – pieces of silver,
Right to thirty – nine strokes of whip,
Right to the ‘+’ sign wood;
Even righteous to death.
.
The Jesus – in – Joseph
Forgave the rubble in Jacob;
Yes! The Joseph – in – Jesus
Forgave the debris in Adam.
.
Just Forgive!
-B. M. Atsen






SET ME FREE
(February, 2006.)
Oh Lord I cry!
I speak but lies;
Then become surprise.
Set me free.
.
Oh Lord I cry!
Deception is my nature,
Dark is my hearts’ future;
Set me free.
.
Oh Lord I cry!
Erroneous are my eyes sight,
Fault’s on my tongues’ site;
Set me free.
.
Oh Lord I cry!
Yours are the skies,
Yours are the flies;
Set me free.
.
Oh Lord I cry!
Earth’s thy foot stool,
The heavens thy glory full;
Set me free.
.
Oh Lord I cry!
I know you’ve seen,
That by these I’ve sin;
Please, set me free.
-B. M. Atsen





ACROSS THE BRIDGE
(24th July, 2007.)
When I cross the bridge
After my last breathe…
.
It’s crawling in my bones!
My flesh, my blood,
Under my skin…
.
It’s elating my spirit
With wounds – never to heal.
.
Forever with the king,
I will be anointed
With oil – with elixir…
.
In there, crown of life
Shall I wear…
.
And, oh – thought of it
Incarcerated me;
Till we meet there…
-B. M. Atsen




AGAIN
(26th December, 2007.)
Again again again;
And again and again
Thou hast seen yuletide
If again he’s born,
If thou isn’t born again
Then thou hungeth him again.
.
He’s suffered the pains;
Nothing else remains
Than thou to believe.
Thy life shall waste not,
If in him thou remain
Again and again thou’ll gain.
-B. M. Atsen
THE HEART OF GOD
(8th July, 2008)
Dead for once had fallen sick
And finally the bucket kick,
All was made for my hearts sake.
.
His comp’ found I – my heart rose
When went I it’s pages to browse,
I click and trip and flip and pose.
.
A titled website across I came;
Www.heartofgod.com...
‘Redeemer!’ called I, ‘here I come.’
.
‘Unto thy heart Lord I flee
From the tempest sore and sea.
With my guilt and filt, redeem I plea!’
.
They began to fall that were dry
But liquid in my eye
As I look as just as high.
.
That 2,000 aged rugged blood thus, flows
From the heart on that sign of plus
When afar – (close it’s the cross)
.
The blood, the bleeding blood, drops the word
From the heart of God;
The word reads thus – ‘Saved.’
.
Day by day by day after years,
Beat after beat by beats it throbs,
To wash you and I and they and us.
-B. M. Atsen





DEVIL
(July, 2005.)

The accuser, as a toddler,
Was told horns has he.
Sly tongues and vamp’ bats
His agents are;
To – and – fro the Hell – maker
To accuse is his job.
.
That when a slur I am,
Innovating mischievous plans,
An angel of his becomes I.
He, but a primeval brad
Setting the whole wide world
Going for a button…
.
And now the deceiver,
Just as I knew naught,
I know is the Hell – keeper.
-B. M. Atsen











FOOL
(June, 2006.)
“Sweeter the world is,
Researches are made,”
Says the fool.
“Work is becoming easier,
And there are computers.”
.
“The breeze blows all day,
Waters produce more sea foods,”
Says the fool.
“Enough have I done,
Let me rest and enjoy.”
.
“Woe unto you!
You know not the right path,”
Says the Lord.
“I own your life,
I! The Most high.”
.
“You fool!
Your end is hell,”
Says the Lord.
But the fool still ask;
“Who said it’s time?”
.
-B. M. Atsen








WHAT LOVE!
(1st April, 2008.)
The sycamore an Iroko wood is
To gaze at him I climbed;
“Thy den I’ll go!” said he.
I felt joy, I smiled, I laughed,
And off we went, both in boat.
.
At us, the storm stroke strongly
My heart – I was weeping out.
But from sweet sleep he woke;
.
Look! The waves, the wind, with
All ears open they obeyed him.
.
I had fate but whereabouts
Of my faith inquires he.
He welcomed me in my den,
My feet he bathe clean.
I said, ‘No.’ ‘Yes,’ he said.
.
Guiltily the debtor I
Wept his feet with tears,
Dried them with my hair
And alabastered them;
For in me, life was dead.
.
But hate had not he
That died the dead of his fellow:
He gave me life – I gave him death,
And when dying my death
He said; ‘It is finished.’
-B. M. Atsen