A Letter To The Female folks. 

To the association of ladies, 
Please help me to tell Shade that I was not given birth to with on/off eyes, my eyes are wide open daily except when I sleep, sleeping is even a voluntary action not a reflex action.

So don’t force me to close my eyes all day. 
Help me to tell Lola my brain and mind draw pictures, even though i’m a science student, I know the theater art that is upstairs. Where there is no night and on no day is its gate ever shut. It acts out everything I see day in day out. 

Please don’t hypnotise my mind. 
Help me to tell Tola, that I am saved does not infer that my libido was taken away. It was my sin that was taken away. So all the rubbing of her body on mine is a chemistry I don’t really understand. 

Please don’t make me wet.
Help me tell them, we all have equal rights to the streets, at least I don’t need to hit my legs to the stone while walking. Tell them, we all have equal rights to worship on Sundays, I don’t need to be distracted while worshipping. Tell them we all have equal rights to learn in the lecture theatre and practical hall,  I don’t need to be distracted while lectures are going on. 
Tell them we don’t need slayers, we need life givers. 

Tell them we don’t need destroyers, we need builders. 

Tell them modesty still counts. It still counts.

Tell them our tongue talking Brothers can still fall all because of their harmless touches. 

Help our brothers. 
Thanks as you deliver my message to them.
From

The Male folks. 

MY 2016 ANECDOTE. I

2016 was a great year, at least it’s not like other years, twas my friend at some point and my fiendful frenemy at another point. As I fluxed through the year, I learnt many things that made my life better.

Times and season surfaced, I got so used to some seasons that when another surfaced again, adapting to the new one becomes a problem. Those brooding moments made me scared of my aloneness, I am not sure of what I would have done to myself if I had never found a better camaraderie in the Holy Spirit, then he was my spouse who was ready to listen to all my ‘jargons’ and supposed sense. Well I wrote more psalms to God in my head like David (though David’s own was on the scroll) this year. Depression was also my friend at some point, I’m a weak guy when it comes to words, I’m very vulnerable to them, that’s why I love to stay offish from those who spill out rubbish (curse words or dissuading words). Words made me depressed maybe twas because I loosed touch with the words of my Lord at some point and I seek validation from men. But now I’ve learned to stay with the words of God because him alone gives hope in times of despair.

I also had my time of joy and happiness, those times were beautiful I must confess.

Friends were also great asset this year, God did answer my prayers, I told him he should send great friends my way this year and he did, I’m eternally grateful for that (I hope to appreciate them soon).
This year I became better, books became fascinating to me, I read over 10 major books with many other PDF books and uncountable great articles that have shaped my life and made me better than I was last year.

One other thing this year taught me to do is how to hold on to God no matter what situation(good and bad) I pass through. I learned to trust and I’m still learning. My spiritual life wasn’t that rosy, if I must say twas more rocky, but God didn’t give up on me. He knew my weaknesses and he is still working on me to be the best version of myself. I won’t give up, I will be better and I will be more like him.
To be continued…..
MY 2016 ANECDOTE.
Bamigbola Silas.

In his eyes. 

As I drift through the road

i saw a young lad amid the throng

as they swarm through the streets.

Through the lens in his eyes

i saw a little boy

who is tired of being

entangled with a religion that

sold his soul to the devil.

 
In his eyes, I saw a little boy with hatred,

hatred for

those clerics who used blood as

ink to write on his tabula rasa,

now turning his white pristine mind black.

 
In his eyes, I saw a little boy

crying, yelling, wailing

in silence looking for freedom;

Freedom from smearing his

white jalamia with blood

all because of a religion.

Freedom from the fetters

that chained his mind.

Freedom to practice love.

 
-In his eyes.

 
©Zionsilas.

WHO WILL DEFINE ME? 

Laying down on my bed in the middle of the night,

I cognitated and thought and anticipated

I asked myself questions,

I can’t proffer answers to;

“what’s my identity?

Who will define me?”

With all my might

I ran and ran and ran

Looking for who to define me.

 

The North Pole knew I came to it

Likewise I trudged towards the South Pole,

It  can’t deny the fact

That I came to it.

Asking “who will define me? ”

 

Shiftless mind! Shiftless mind!!

I slipped into the crowd

Trying to fit in.

Unfortunately, mama and papa

Never gave me tribal marks

And that made me lost

Deep  Into the throng.

What’s my identity?

 

When will the thought

Of my purpose and bright future

Compel me to have

That frenzy feeling of joy.

Please who will define me?

 

P. S: Questions a reasonable man or woman begins to ask him/her self are,  “Who am I? Why in the world am I here? What’s my identity?”

 

It’s a question we must ask ourselves. Our Lord Jesus too had to know his identity, he knew his definition, no wonder   Jesus said in Hebrew 10:7 “Lo, I come (in the volume of the book it is written of me,).” also he defined himself to the hearing of the Israelites in Luke 4:18-19.
If we must know our identity, then we must begin with communication; initially with ourselves, then with God our creator. He has our manual, he can define us.

Formidable Love… 

She was a beautiful woman blessed in every sense of femininity. The expensive ambiant attires she wore were flawless, good looking and a disguise of her true identity. Her business flourished, blossomed and brought men from far and near.

Lewd men queued to have their turns, for she was a prostitute.
Not until the day she was caught in the very act, all went smooth.
“Yeh! I’m doomed” she retorted.

Dragged to the light of the world by those “I-too-know” and self righteous religious leaders.

Sly Pharisees trying to trap Jesus asked him, “what should we do to this woman?”
Jesus in return stooped  down writing with his fingers on the ground as he was inspired of the Spirit. “The most righteous one amidst you should cast the first stone”, he said. 
Ashamed folks, they left one after another, from the eldest to the youngest. Then, the light of the world looked up and told her the most beautiful and sincere words she possibly heard for the first time in her life, ” Dear, I love you and want to live in you, go and sin no more”.
****
Friends, God loves us even in the darkest times of our life. He hates sin but loves sinners and want to show them the right path to live.
Are you in or not? If you ain’t in,  Please come in, just the way you are, he loves you unconditionally and formidably. 

#LoveGod!

THE VALUE OF TIME… 

Tick! tick!! says the clock. Close your eyes and open it, a second is gone.

Each seconds count, it amount to minutes, hours, days, months, years, centenaries, then millenniums. 

 

A second is of great value.
In a second;

A man can accept Jesus Christ and gain enternal life, yet in just one second a man can take an occultic oath and give himself to the devil.
In just a second;

A life may be saved, an accident may be averted. In just one second, a life may be lost, a gun may be shot, a bomb thrown.
In just a second;

Conception may take place, the sperm meets the egg, life is formed. 

In just one second, breath may stop, soul crosses Jordan. 
You must learn to value each seconds so that your lifetime will count so greatly in his sight.

Grace! 

TEARS OF HISTORY… 

Arike:

Baami who is that woman

Whose wailings fill our ears

Whose anguish silence the birds?
Father:

That is Itan

Mourning for her lost children 

Her sons and daughters

Her hope and life 
Arike:

Isn’t she the mother of Oduduwa the great warrior?
Father:

Yes she is . Oduduwa the great warrior

The brave and fearless man 

I remember the wars he fought for us 

Fought for our freedom 

Stood up to the white gods in our land

Alas! He is now a terror to chickens

Dreams are his battlefield 

Vituperates before his television and newspaper

His victory ends on the cushion 

A cripple that can’t stand to defend his name, identity future, and honour 
Arike:

Surely Akanbi the great farmer is alive to feed his mother.
Father:

Arike your memory amaze me

Akanbi the great farmer son of the land

His bare hands soothes the land 

As he brings her to delivery 

To deliver her of her fruits and tidings 

Out of his abundance 

He feeds the lizards in his house 

His kinsmen  in ivory coast 

He fed for years 

Akanbi  is now a scavenger 

Who waits in line to eat 

Bits and bits from long nosed men 

Akanbi begs in the street 

Depending on biscuits and indomie 

He grovels for food from strangers 

I pity him when I pass by him 

His face distorted by hunger 

Akanbi waits/looks abroad and not below 

For his satisfaction 
Arike:

What a tragedy the death of living sons Baami Segilola nko? I know a daughter will never forsake her mother 
Father:

Segilola eleyinjuege

The great jewel

Pride of her mother 

Fear of all wives

The groaning in men’s groin 

Lusted after by white men 

Segilola sold her pride for fashion 

Her royal beads for dollars 

Her beauty for sophistication

Her culture for civilization 
Arike:

Indeed Itan has lost so much . A great mother abiyamo ni 
Father:

Where did you see Itan was it on your way to the stream ?

 

Arike:

Baami it was not on my way to the stream nor on my way to the farm. 

I saw her in the wrinkles on Iya agba’s face 

I saw her beneath the dark soil Upon which she was once celebrated 

In the ancient tattoo on maami’s hand 

In your tribal marks 
Father:

Such is the life of history Itan 

Who cries and weeps

For her past conquests and victories. 
Such is  the plight of Nigeria a great mother with glorious children. 
Her Oduduwa Akanbi Segilola are no more .
Listen again as she wails 
How old is Nigeria, dimeji?
TEARS OF HISTORY 

by Adediran Adetutu. 
P .S 

A  Thought provoking poem of our past. A past that can fuel our present and lighten our dim future.

Don’t give up on Nigeria, it can still be a better place for us if you are ready to work and trust (in God).  
Comment : this is a wonderful poem written by my friend Adediran Adetutu, it’s a poem that takes us to the past and still keep us abreast with the present matters on ground. I hope we are encouraged by this?  

Enough of inaction, our little positive actions have a way of bringing Nigeria to the place it should be. 
May God bless Nigeria and take us to the right place he has prepared for us. 

Amen
Happy Independence Day friends. 
God bless you real good.