I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22 ­čśë … School work and my new job is swamping me, So sorry I was MIA, however its a special day today (i’m so tempted to blog Taylor Swift’s ’22’.) I tried not to hype this day and told people not to call me but just couldn’t help it. The love is too ┬ámuch. One more thing, please after reading this purge, vote for N. Bassey’s etisalat story here:┬áhttp://etisalatprize.com/dressed-like-a-prince/┬áThe story is worth all votes.

And finally, Follow me on twitter @sunkit1 and send your purges to loonpurge@gmail.com *wink *wink
And this purge is deep. An hybrid of poetry and prose. Only Dami Can pull this off.
Few have seen the pain behind my pen,
None has ventured to ask why my hands quiver or my words shiver.
They see a story and ignore all that is shameful and gory,
I shall purge now and give the First of poets glory.

[Fiction or fact
I’ll leave you to figure that
Since I don’t know where to start.
I’ll start with the gloomy part]

“I was once the spawn of hell,
Tied in chains in the belly of hades.
All of my desires and wanton lusts
Held me bound all year round.
He that had power of death,
Frightened me, blinding me.
Darkness gorged my eyes out,
Or rather I should say I was born without eyes…”

I can’t remember when I met Christ definitively but I know that at one point in my journey I was a wastrel. Face-palmed by my mother, even my dad threatened to neuter me. Like the prodigal son I shoved my middle-finger in my father’s face and fled the homestead with my inheritance.

Let me tell you where I was. My lies were rarely few and far between. They were noxious and filthy. Driven my a need to impress my friends. My hands moved swiftly through purses. I was skilled, almost surgical. My eyes hungered for candy, what you call the lust of the eyes. I knew I had a problem when the plastic cleavage of a mannequin set me on fire with desire.

And the god of this world
Who ruled with the power of death,
That regent of sin
Blinded me and caused me to wander-lust

My name was Joseph yet my dreams were putrid infestations of the demonic sort. I couldn’t see beyond the sway of ‘her’ hips and the sultry outline of her lips. I didn’t wait for her to invite me in, I hurried to her door and gave her all of me.

I wore a cloak of sadness.
My voice was a distant croak – laden with lies and distorted truths.
I gathered to myself ladies,
And toyed with hearts like a petulant child.

You don’t know my story, or why all I can write is His story. Night after night I stood at doom’s edge, my feeble frame at the end of the precipice. Despair threatening to push me into the chasm. I was blind! I was deaf! I could neither see his grace shine so bright, nor hear his love speak so loud.

But He touched me… Me! A leper! I could quote a thousand scripture but the word was not in my heart. I was an invalid dressed in a slick tuxedo and smart shoes, yet scaly white beneath.

“Gentle Jesus meek and mild
A thundering Lion! Wise and wild
The lamb that takes away the world’s guilt
And with his blood washes all her filth
I was in hell and slave to sin
But in His blood I am redeemed”

Then I found him or rather He found me.
He touched me…
He told me: your sins are forgotten. In the midst of my sobbing, he held me up and embraced me. This is why I cry in worship.

I can’t remember when I met Him because now that I look back He was there all along. Even in my darkest night when I penned my suicide notes or piled a stack of pills to drown the voices in my head, He was there. This is why I know that I don’t need more grace or more love! For even in my sin He died for me.

My name is Joseph. I have no past for it is written in blood. I simply am for He is and as He is so am I in this world. follow on twitter @damilar3