Hey, I am starting a series on some key ‘principles’ (I do not know what else to call them) of Christianity going into the new year.
Something new and a great writing challenge for me.
I’ll title it ‘ THE P.O.J SERIES’, yes you will find out eventually what P.O.J stands for but wait till the new year.
So stick around and keep an open mind.

P.S: This is the first of the sequence.

Mercy found me on my knees
Begging with endless pleas,
‘Please, my King,
Unto You my lowly self I bring!’
Over and over, this was my heart’s sorrowful song
Sung unto my Lord, Mighty and Strong.
When Mercy found me.

When Mercy found me,
I could not breathe.
For my glorified temple of sin came crumbling down and there I was beneath.
Undeserving of rescue but Mercy said ‘no!’
So I presented my scarlet-stained records yet Mercy said ‘even though’,
Pointing me to the blood-stained cross
That built a bridge to the Father and carried me across.

When Mercy found me,
He came in the company of grace and love
So that when I was too tired to utter a prayer to God above,
Mercy interceded for me and grace empowered.
Even when I could not hold love for my tainted hands were cowards,
Mercy so tender washed me clean,
Please get what I mean.

When Mercy found me,
In the alley of unworthiness, badly beaten up by the bully called condemnation
He offered absolution and reconciliation.
Took my stripes on His back, stricken and afflicted
So this very girl could never be restricted.
Where awful judgment should have been my conclusion,
You made everlasting life my portion.

When Mercy found me,
He towered over me, my Solid Cover.
‘My Loving Preserver
Take my corrupted words
Give me Yours which is sharper than all two-edged swords.’
Where grace was once frustrated,
Mercy invades where sin once separated.

When Mercy found me,
He roared courage and made me bold.
Took my broken pieces and made me into this masterpiece mold
Mercy so great I could never run from Him.
Mercy so everlasting I could never exhaust Him.
For the Lord is good
And His mercy endures forever, just as He would.

                                                        ©  O.M

Psalm 116:1-9

 I love the Lord, because He has heard
My voice and my supplications.
Because He has inclined His ear to me,
Therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live.

The pains of death surrounded me,
And the pangs of Sheol laid hold of me;
I found trouble and sorrow.
Then I called upon the name of the Lord:
“O Lord, I implore You, deliver my soul!”

Gracious is the Lord, and righteous;
Yes, our God is merciful.
The Lord preserves the simple;
I was brought low, and He saved me.
Return to your rest, O my soul,
For the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.

For You have delivered my soul from death,
My eyes from tears,
And my feet from falling.
I will walk before the Lord
In the land of the living.here

Heavy Hearts Do Overflow

This is still new to me.

I say new because I’ll never get used to it

This pain I’ll never get used to it.

It will feel familiar but different every time.

This is still new to me.

Experiencing someone else’s pain,

New level, new peril

You never get acquainted.

This is still new to me.

Fighting for yourself while grabbing the hand of the slipping man beside

To offer comfort or safety you probably lack yourself.

Survival of the fittest, no one truly passes the test.

This is still new to me.

How reality doesn’t mind travelling miles just to slap you in the face.

How hate rides the waves of countless oceans

But love drowns when it attempts to leave the shore.

This is still new to me.

I know for every gram of pain and toil, helplessness and darkness

There is an ounce of fight , hope, light and flight.

This is just still new to me.



                                                    © O.M

Heyy, my heart is just heavy but I am alright.

I would like to know how you express your heavy heart, what do you do?
Leave a comment below if you so wish :)

As for me, I always pray because I know God cares about that too.
His love is very comforting. This in itself is enough but other times,
ink meets paper and they do this lovely dance that's soothing.



You will be okay.

You will be fine.

Right here is where you begin to wonder

Whether there be any true comfort in these words of mine.

But will you accept what I offer?

I come bearing gifts.

Come on, do not leave me hanging, rather

Hang on to these very words…

You will be okay,

You will be fine.

Yes, I offer them again.


I could paint a magnificent illusion with my words for you,

Of the light beyond the tunnel and the ray of sun beyond the cloud gather,

You pictured it right? Point proven.

However, I am not in the mood for selling mainstream dreams,

So you will be okay and you will be fine.

I wish this gift of mine to you came with a tag describing when and how

But then I don’t since I am not in the mood for selling comfort either.

Truth on the other hand, I can sell everyday.

And this you already know, you will be okay and you will be fine.

You will eventually breathe better.

One day you will seek to lull yourself to sleep with the usual oceans that pour from your eyes and they will be scarce.

For the fist of pain around your heart will gradually but surely unclench and you will be overwhelmed by joy no longer fear and grief.

You will hesitantly welcome a stranger in who will befriend you,

He will need no introductions and he will consume you,

Your face, heart and eyes will pine for him because he is ample just like that,

His name is s m i l e.

Now that you’ve been briefly introduced, make sure you get acquainted later.

You thought it was a person? Him or her? Hmmm



So to you that I do not know, I offer that which I know,

You will be okay.

You will be fine.

How do I know?

I know since this is a gift addressed to myself too.

As I opened the door to receive my parcel,

Standing there was mailman Future, Present and Past.

Uncle Past was dragging Uncle Present down memory lane which was really my lawn but okay.

Showing him that the only reason he existed was because my “not okay’s” and “not fine’s” combined beautifully to create him.

Then Uncle Future turned to Uncle Present with a smile-whispering-hope and Present was assured.


“You are fine.

You are okay.”

They said to me as the trio walked away.



©  O.M


Purple skies and yellow lights,

Peaceful nights and sweet meat pies.

Vanilla and elderberry fill the air,

Mr Shobande’s favourite combination of scent.

Disappears one minute and fills the next.

Just. Like . Him.


Mrs Shobande storms into the room

Complaining of the heat from the candles.

I think it’s the memory of him she’s really angry at but okay

This cup of Lipton tea is too sweet.

She waltz to Lara George playing so softly from my phone as she makes her way to the kitchen.

The sweet smell of her ofada sauce no longer bangs on the door.

Celebrating its freedom, it wafts through the corridor to my nose and makes its home there.

Only for grumpy Mr Salivary Glands to demand damages in immediate satisfaction for being awoken too soon.



Purple flowers and brown clay,

Ade Shobande o ma ti dele and it’s been three hours.

Patriotism and service to his country is all he knows.

I’ll try his Airtel number first then his 0809ja for lyf.

I hope he is in no trouble, I did warn him about wearing his camouflage t-shirt in these hostile streets.

Ready to limp off that thought I hear the sound I’ve become accustomed to,
His Honda Accord coughing and coughing before dying at the turn of a key.

I hear the wings of worry flutter away and anger makes a splashy entrance into the sea of emotions in my heart.

Ade ti dele sugbon o ti yo!

Before I open the door I can smell the city’s night life all over him.

From the Gulder to the paraga and Ireti’s cheap perfume, Ew!

“Buy the naira to grow the naira” he shouts in my face and I want to slam the door in his.

This is his way of service and grand showcase of patriotism to his country.



Purple vessels and pink jojoba,

Ayo Shobande sits and settles as I weave her koroba.

She tells the usual tale of her grandfather, the Oba to her little brother and his body relaxes as sleep captures.

A soft breeze caresses my neck and arms,

Luring me to the realisation that my neighbours aren’t as royal, magical nor mysterious as they appear.



I walk over to my house with a bowl of ofada rice and sauce safely tucked under my arm

Leaving that house with a deeper appreciation for the colour purple.

Knowing that under close scrutiny, what is purple on the outside is just red and blue on the inside.

Very much like my neighbours, the Shobandes.





©  O.M

E y e s & L i e s

Is it true that your eyes tell a story?

Is it true that they hold the glory of your past?

Is it true that they display the shame of your yesterday?

Or do they just hide the lies yet untold?

Your love for her yet to unfold.



It was those same eyes that gave me joy to behold.

No wonder she finds delight in them too.

And boy do they shine for her, glisten and light up for her.

Now I’m left with blank spaces lacking capacity to love my galaxies.

How did we get here lover?



Maybe my eyes were bursting with so much colour and dreams that scared you.

So you chose black and white, brown and white.

Something calm, someone whose fire wasn’t wild.

Maybe my eyes witnessed your every flaw and still had much love for you and you felt undeserving.

Or maybe we never saw eye to eye to begin with.



Even though my eyes have cried tears for you.

Even though my eyes have been shut tight in prayer for you.

Even though my eyes have lost sight of the truth for you.

Even though my eyes tell the story of a lost lover.

Even though,

I want you to know that

These eyes will always behold you with your imperfections yet still love you.

These eyes will beautify your soul and shine for you.

These eyes will be waiting for you to come home.

                                                        ©    O.M