THE CONCEPTION OF SIN

This absolute mirage of how possible it is for the mind to ascertain the destination of the soul.

This rock, this dead spirit, this stony heart,

The old man, the first Adam, initially lived pat,

The inherent inclination of sin as a nature,

The willpower subjected to this flesh by enclosure,

This body, sold south and souled out unto closed walls of unrighteousness,

A holy deviant, committing a sacrilege and resisting rightness,

 Shall I argue the strength of desire?

Or succumb to the prowess of vain enticement’s attire?

This undefiled conscience,

Frequently pruned with thorough occurrence,

My heart, before it breathed life,

Before my human spirit came alive,

A slave of my foes,

A servant of sin even to their toes,

Paid with throes, wages of death,

Slowly I died, living was strife,

A step closer to death,

So many steps behind life,

My light dimmed,

Till it shined no more,

What a vain disposition of my heart towards-

what revived the cause of the law,

This sacred law, this constant attraction,

I’m tempted; this enticement can’t be spurned,

Why ignite this passion again,

Why flame up this fire to vain,

In abstract paths & gross darkness,

My memories blurred by decision of tainted memoirs-

In concrete fall from grace,

To sin was in fairness,

These thoughts spurred as I pace,

These thoughts overruled what powered their functions,

Deprived the mind the ability to live a defaulting live of holiness,

A strayed traitor of the light,

Towered with the personality of darkness,

An influence, in infusions of pleasures-

Not endured by time or endorsed by eternity,

At the end,

The junction spoke for themselves,

The crossroads spoke against their shelves,

The betrayal of the flesh,

The spirit knows all things when fresh,

The soul, the culprit,

Their destination, the verdict,

Eternal death eventually became the life they live,

Darkness, the only light they perceive,

Their past, their mirror,

Confronting them with intense guilt taking them tour,

Here they burn,

It wasn’t real, but now it’s not fun,

A façade of the true and lasting pleasure bequeathed-

In broken cups of lusts & lifted veils of sin.

WRITTEN BY: Nameless Calvary

GARDEN OF EDEN

So gracious was the sight of things,

Of every creature and every creation?

God’s addiction to man, made angel wish of such wings,

How strong was man’s fellowship by every bit of emotion?

How beautiful the plants were,

Meekly are the animals that were there,

The lions and lambs all they had they’ll share,

A world you couldn’t have dreamed it’s realities as fantasies,

You couldn’t have seen its pleasures, promises and prophecies,

 The serenity of the ambience,

A land where everything was fruitful hence,

Every weed a wanted seed,

Every thorn a flower,

Every lion a steed,

Young camels even with embedded power,

It was all-round pacific,

Gracious was the creation in its demeanor and physique,

Blessed was the weather,

As a grateful bird was for a feather,

Virgin pure waters flowing as sacred streams,

Watering the aridness of the plants to their brims,                      

Such residence for the gods; it thrills,

A place where the Lord had two meals,

How he taught their hands for pills,  

Making them responsible for the naming of things without a flaw,

How he gave them all, but disciplined them with one small law,

When law came, sin birthed, making sour all sweet moments,

Orchestrated by this pricking and cunning serpent,

Working on her innocence and having her stray,

As naive as her man, he also fell prey,

That one thorn in the midst of flowers,

One sour fruit incapable of intoxicating them to towers,

They grew lust at ray,

By it they were drawn away,

Enticed, sin was conceived & they died,

What use is it if the serpent lied?

The skin is cut, our blood spills; ignore the object that knifed,

Their creator,

Having loved them enough not to hate them to their floor,

 Banished from this eternal life,

Their ignorance knew not about this new strife,

The husband is to labor so hard, labor pains is a lot for the wife,

Now their sinful generation,

The inherent ones with passion,

Aided by advancement,

Exploring at length,

Finding the homes that was theirs before they fell,

Whether they are to dig more if it drowned; I can’t tell,

Out of the cosmos searching for their lost hell,

It’s a paradise and not a shell,

They’ll lose everything,

So far, they have found nothing,

It’s not a place; it’s now a realm,

A realm that lives now in us,

And we also in it; Thus,

No prove of its visibility,

Except for its existence through history.

WRITTEN BY: Nameless Calvary

Somedays when I'm young again

Someday when I am young again,
Someday while I am young by vein,
I shall hence, depart into a place of hymns,
A sacred closure, an abode where worship streams,

While I am young by vein,
I shall climb the tall palm trees by the river side,
Beholding the fairest of the maidens as the hours tide,
Hoping for the purest amongst the yet to be bride,
I shall yearn for the young at heart,
Woo the naïve; make the innocent sit for a chat,
When I see, I shall know,
Via the indicator of passion; it will show,
I am still searching; flaming the fire of my desire not to douse,
My longings are still smoking; as I keep my eyes to stay rouse,
Her eyes I can’t see,
Her sight I foresee,

While I search, I shall seek more fruitfulness still,
Beholding the sight more on a hill,
The views of landscapes and portraits may give me thrill,
The wonders of God, in such a mirror as precious,
Exploring His creation makes my quest adventurous,
Till I meet the one destined to put my search to nib,
The personage of my lost and found rib,

Our customs, religions, cultures, families and laws,
If they’ll say “it is abomination and we’ll be the first to make flaws”,
If they’ll say “it isn’t always all that was meant to be must be and can be”,
Our need is the honey, so we must follow the bee,
We shall elope far into one of those abandoned lands,
Clear a forest; build a hut with our bear hands,
We shall birth generations and start a new clan,
Begin our history after the fixing of our leafy pan,

If our successors inquire of our past,
We shall say of our clan barely we were last,
We shall say; “speak no more of our history,
We’ve become allergic to our lack of victory”,
Albeit, we did reconciled our fate,
Went in search of our homeland,
The path we took made us our bait,
We couldn’t change a time that has no hand.

Someday, when I am young again,
All the things I once did to vain,
I shall fix and make work for everything’s plane,
Be generous as much as I can be,
Offer my back to them that beat me,
Have my foes treated to a tea,
Tread on rocky places leaving traces,
Cause smiles on dry frowning faces,
Make dimples for soft ebony babies,

Someday while I am young by vein,
What a wish! I can’t be young again,
Time has passed,
Our vehicles has soon crashed,
Death and grave newly clashed,
The hourglass has completed its functions,
To be buried or embalmed seem to be best options,
What a life! To the greyness of the old, an account of vain.

This spurs from the thoughts of he that won in life and lost in love.
Writer:
O’ Lover boy, where is now thy mistress that you’ve hidden honorably in thy heart? Is she not those bones we now see decaying by the inflation of warms and the investment of time effects.
Speak! Let the dead lift your curse and the living plead your course.
May the dead always mourn the dead and the living lament over their heavy souls!

WRITER BY:
Nameless Calvary

TIme Flies

Nesting feign moments in droplets,
As if they were birds,
Halting them to stiff torrents  
As proved much by dreads,

Blaming the hour glass glide
Imprisoning their passages for being so wide,
Haunting the clock’s hand
For always running on time’s errand,

This moment we are in is vain,
Because it’s not the same we are in again,
Every second unsatisfyingly hungry,
Consuming with appetite- moments within time’s boundary,

Innocent seasons,
Drowning in figures of dates, months & years without reasons,
Fulfilling the prophecies of those passive calendar printings,

I thought your mother just received,
How come such a son she had conceived?
It’s normal for her about labor’s time to groan,
But, you are already so grown,

What has befalling my vision?
Aren’t these grey hairs?
Is this sight or time confusion?
Why is it now burial affairs?

It’s been decades seemingly like ten days now,
We vividly remember our ancestors,    
Is this time-nature’s oath or our vow?
That has brought this vanity upon us,

Every time we arrive,
We just fill in this vacuum as we dive,
So we don’t see the emptiness echoing our vain.

Time really does flies,
Not even as fire-flies,
Not as birds in view,
Not with wings they flew,
But, with diligent response to every beat that comes from our hearts.

WRITTEN BY:
Nameless Calvary

The Quest to Return Home

Exploring the sights of seeing our home,
Revisiting the tour that seems so far as we roam,
This negligence of our ancestor,
A reward of complacency & disobedience to their creator,
The result,
Casted out by their foes,
Send forth with woes,  
A life of throes,
Having the creator repented of His will for man,
Leaving him with crippled thoughts of us,
Unfulfilled intentions for mankind,
A cloud of doubt revealed on historical perfection,
All that brought us to this path;
Is the key to end our struggles,
Whether this is the truth or a fact;
This pain has revealed our toggles,

Some certain doors just must be closed,
Some bolted doors must just be re-opened,
Grace must be our companion once again,
Lost into the realm that invested all to vain,
Having denied God His helping hand,
He stood still, letting man stand on sinking sand,
Such realm as this,
Makes us sing ballads of bliss,

There’s no place like home,
No softness as foam,
The fire that rages in our hearts,
Its passion burns continually on our paths,

This search seems endless,
Yet, our comfort lies in its hope,
On this path we feel hardness,
Our desire has hooked us to a dope,

We keep searching,
Till we find our home,
Perhaps on our way,
Our creator will show His mercy,
And bless us with manna.

In this endless search,
Our mothers did give birth,
Our fathers did grow old,
Our daughters lose their scent,
All our youths also went cold,

In this endless search,
Every hint seems fruitless,
Yet every breath that comes gives us hope,
We feel we are closer each passing day,
We think we are still far; night after night,  
Yet we remain on this quest,
We’ve got the compass,
We shall prevail this test,
As we surf through our atlas,

Every day, a man is born,
Inquisitive with eyes full of questions,
Having bodies strong enough to force out the answers,
We long to return home,
We long to end this roam,
This gate to heaven,
This paradise on earth,

O’ how have we so fallen?
How deep or how far?
How long will it take us coming?
How short will it be by car?
How have we deserted the place of glory-
For the huts of shame?
Whether Adam was fooled and Eve was deceived-
It’s all the same,
On this journey we’ve embarked on,
The fruit of temptation ‘apple’,
Is what we buy and eat to sustain us as we go on.

WRITTEN BY: Nameless Calvary

To Love a Flower

In a land of flowers,
From mythical towers,
An aura of bliss,
Of euphoria and peace,
An ambience of pure passions,
In silhouette of attractions,
A flora of celestial gatherings,
An ember of Edenic happenings,
A souvenir of paradise,
Its effusions are never lies,    

Every passerby,
They’ll sniff in and never sigh,
Like a bee savoring the scent of pure nectar,
As if the scent-box was that of Alabaster,
When as a chameleon, season changed appearance,
Not fading, not withering as if the flowers were set to trance,
Never for once did the flowers ever change,
Never were they subjected to nature’s range,

Amidst the flowers was a tree,
Singled out as if it was the source of other’s thrill,
A rare gem, a sweet-bitter one,
Despite its demeanor, it was still their ‘sun of fun’,
A poisonous three from its petal to its stem,
As if it was exiled from Eden’s realm,

Hours away from its root,
Away from its stem’s choke,
The rest will die as it remains on its foot,
Neither did its petal shrivel nor it’s stem broke.

A sweet-bitter fervor no mortal should resist,
A daily banquet you can call beauty's feast,
So many sacrificed their lives to get from it,
Giving it to living loved ones then below six feet.


Drowning in the sea of desire,
He beheld from afar in patience's attire,
There he stood studying even in lonely nights,
Haven't felt it, yet was worth thousand sights,

Lifelessly he stood in both rainy and sunny days,
If he made the tree's shade a shelter, won't he be loosing death's lace,

He knew how poisonous,
His love was paradox,
Could the vine of love be destroyed by timely foxes,
Would the story of timeless one-sided love tag beauty for ashes,

At winter, the flowers lock within their sting,
What a proposal, for a tree of flowers to wear a ring,

Now he sat by a cold tree, wanting to chat,
Albeit it was winter in Eden, yet summer in his heart,

It's cold, the trees around whispered it clear for every Tom,
He wasn't immortal, but his love kept him warm,

Days passed, the flowers felt his love,
A tree that was straight now began to curve,

Night passed, the tree knew the truth,
A tree that was only for beauty started baring fruits,


Now they knew the language of love,
Their differences they can now solve,
The eve of their summer, the angels warned them,
How could they have known? For they were lost in love's realm,

Some moments to summer, nature began the transition,
No matter how nature cared, the hands of the clock doesn't only move by batteries,
How the nights fought with the west to hinder the rising of the sun,
Cocks went dump, they were yet lost in their fantasies,

It was morning, only for the Loverboy to wake up and die again,
No matter how he felt the pain,
For love, his death was never meant to be to vain,
If this sacred tree couldn't think or imagine, then it shouldn't go insane,

At some point, everything was silent, yet the moments went on,
Today seems it was going to rain, for their's no rising of the sun,
There he was, laid bare at the feet of the tree that carried the flowers he cherished,
The source through which he had perished,

The flower that was 'beauty' now fades,
The tower that was heighty lose shades,
The flower withered, its petal shrivelled, it's stem broke, it's countenance lowered;
Never to bloom and blossom again,
Never to live a life of vain,

The one that overcame the seasons, the sun, the moon, nature and time to shine;
Little did we know that it's root was love.

Written By:
Nameless Calvary

Unsaid Goodbye

Seeing her pass by on that sunday morning,

''Hi! It's been a while, How have you been?", this was how our fire of friendship started burning,

Timeless moments of thrilling chats,
Catching funs through walking paths,
As if nature expected each moment,
Such connection could only be ancient,

Standing by boring T-Junctions,
On streets where quietness & loneliness were their options,

The flowers bloom, the land became green,
All is now perfect, but an incident was unforeseen,

How the night would sleep and my desires awakened with the thoughts of her innocent attitude, spreading softness into my heart,

How I would hope every moment, wishing she would read her devotionals and the book I gave her,

And when every thing became so small, when the storm of boredom stilled,
Raging sea was calm, then I was so relaxed and unprepared,

Innocent me, there I was, in some GCE centre, babysitting my grown up sister that wasn't even seen for some couple of hours,

In the interim, she did came home, banging at our gate, with the hope of hearing me yell typically; "who is that now?", alas! Her sight was disappointed and her countenance lowered, my old man(papa) came out, informed her about my absence,

Unknowing to him that it was her way of saying goodbye, some thoughts ran through her mind, so this is how we part... Now if I was home; I could have helped her with some luggages to the junction, I could have seen her well and take a shot of her as a souvenir on my phone.. But, she left,

Distance betrayed us,
Crippled by fixed schedules,
Betrayed by a 'thursday' that would come again,
Left me stranded at this junction once again,
Made me a poet that write his pain,
The 'goodbye' she didn't say, laid the burdens upon her,
Like a river time carried her away,
Like a rose, some words, when held, whithers to grey.
Her lips are still filled with unsaid goodbyes... I hope she'll return soon and restore back the color she stole from our rainbows.


Written by:
Nameless Calvary