WELCOME TO ANEAKSPEAKS

  When I've asked and asked again, and my asking runs dry and then my resolve starts to bend, how do I wait when I've been so disappointed? Is my waiting all in vain? Is there a time that is appointed for Him to answer me? …for a yes to my plea? But what's the point of waiting in this instant and fast-paced culture? Why delay? Why abstain? Why the decision to remain content? I mean really, is the wait even worth it? My mind always wanders while waiting, hopefully anticipating the right answer. I am scared of the potential – the constant questioning of why and how, what if and what now.   Our quick-and-grab culture is also fanning the flames of my anxiety. Sometimes, I feel like going into a time machine to fast-track my life. Hey! Just give me a break! It's really not easy to wait on God for things you think you need now.   It is difficult for me to stay with God for even the slightest things. I feel disappointed many times and yes, the why syndrome is always the ...

I don't know if I have my words articulated but just follow me as we journey together.  I have waited all my life, so I know what it means to wait.  Waiting is a patience testing meter and it can be one of the hardest seasons of one's life. Sometimes, we don't know what we are waiting for and other times, we do. The instruction is just WAIT, hmm!  Other times there are no instructions but what you want is not just coming through. I also know that human beings don’t like waiting because waiting makes us feel idle in a way.  During the waiting process, quite a lot of things would happen to you. The cases might just differ.  One thing you must do is work on them because some might be harmful to you while some could help build your strength. Everyone is in their waiting season, experiences might just be different.  Let me share something personal with you. When I become very impatient, panicking or over working myself, I know there's a problem and m...

  Aneakspeaks:  I look forward to a day when evil won't be the order of the day. A day where parents don't have to weep about their children's death caused by a faulty system; A day where bloodshed will stop being a norm Where our schools will be safe for our children Where violence will cease in our streets A day where the people meant to protect us, stops killing us. A day where we would vote and not fight All we hope for is a day. A brand new day deargodsamurai: I long for the day when my hopes will align with my dreams. Days I can easily identify metaphors in sign language.  The days I can tell the difference from light and darkness.  A day when I'm not trying to just survive, Where my loyalty is not tied to the bread crumbs my country provides. I long patiently for the day when my heart won't be a mess.  I long for the day when the judge of my soul will Sing to my ears not guilty. I've encountered several sad low self-esteem days, it's funny how I still...

We all had one event that changed our lives, when we look back sometimes we've got mixed feelings.  That phase birthed a process in US because that was the beginning of change in our lives.  What's next after the pain? it's a question most of us ask ourselves. what happens when the refining and pruning process is ongoing? What results am I expected to get? What challenges would I encounter?  How will people perceive the changed me? Will I still be me? Who really am I? After publishing my story last year on my birthday,  I felt relieved because having to tell my parents physically wasn't something I could handle.  Well, people got to know the part of the story I was willing to tell.  So what happened after you told your story Ebun? Well they say time heals pain yeah!  Lets just say there is a price for the next level. Hmmm! Maybe someday I would share that story, *smiles*.  Just as I am writing this,  I have got tears in my eyes.  After s...

“You’ve never lived my life" My line of defense every time I felt a conviction. It was proof that I saw conviction as accusation - Something incessantly telling me I was in the wrong And that was the last thing I needed to hear Because no one had ever lived my life. The arrogance I must have wallowed in, My conversations with divinity varied depending on whose personality I was trying to connect with I made small talks forgetting that He had no ego I could stroke Nonetheless, I moved with my tears, sighed and cried for help ‘You’ve never lived my life’ I unleashed my disappointment at the life I lived Salvation promised me newness, freshness and a blank page Remember that ‘your sins He would remember no more' line? Well, all my life gave off was a hint of constant failures and a huge splash of imposter syndrome I didn’t fit into the commonwealth of the saints with the life I was now living. Still I lied Still I held back the truth Still I allowed myse...

Like a stray dog on a winter night, I walked by all the places I used to get wasted, Hoping for some kind of redemption and reconciliation from the idol I once worshipped, Broken and un-healed From all the sticks and stones hauled at me By the mouths I fed from my fingers. It was daylight, but the sun refused to shine. The air only spread forlorn hope So deeply that my fate was devoid of Faith. If I rise and go to my father, Would he in open arms blot out my transgressions? Like a damned worshipper of my idol, I allowed in the sins of my flesh . My mind shattered into pieces of broken dreams And reality posing as a toothless masquerade. Where was my faith? I took a walk along the lonely narrow path To find redemption in the woods so dark. A cry for help, my soul to heal From all that separated me from my creator. I wandered off in oblivion Till my feet refused to carry on. I looked up and there he stood on the hilltop, Amidst the darkness glimmering light...

All I heard was the hooting sound of the train. And my flesh crawled to life. Everything I desired was in this train My will was mine and my lust was fine. I cared less about who drove the train I was having the time of my life This way seemed right to me But the driver never mentioned that it was a dead-end I was heading for the walls that Pharoah hit The walls that Herod hit That has death graffitied on it. Littered with other pleasure-trains Piled up into a mountain of mangled flesh and metal How could such pleasurable place Be a one-way trip to death’s feet? I was going to get my answer from the driver But he lied to my face. Claiming all I heard about the walls was a lie Lo, I went back to my fun Until I saw it The wall The mountain of mangled flesh and metal! The grafitti I had been deceived by the king of all liars. Debauchery never tasted more bitter Literally, I was at my end My strength had become weak I could only cry to the one I ran...