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HOLY–HOLY: Nwakanma Chika

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Pastor, 
You mesmerized us with talks of greener pastures,
Gold paved streets and treasure-filled mansions
In a place, beyond the skies above us.

But you own a Lexus and a Rolls Royce Phantom;
Your daughter just turned 18, so you bought her a RAV4,
Yet 3 square meals most of your members can’t afford –
It seems this gospel is not for the poor!

Father, 
You heart is not as white as the cassock –
It bears the cries of the young boys you defiled through the back door.
Now the Holy Communion tastes sour
And the scent from the incense, is without a sweet-smelling savor!

You have become a whore to earth’s vanity –
There is no difference between you and the celebrity,
Because you go about pimping for prosperity!

Television and radio coverage boost your popularity
But you have yielded to demons to hide your insecurity –
An antithesis of divine authority!

Imam, 
Just last Friday after Juma’at,
With your lips, you biled your members;
“Kill the infidels”, you chant –
Dipping the Koran into the Atlantic is all that matters!

You say westernization corrupts,
Yet children are graduates of Hazard and Oxford.
Your power comes not from your spiritual authority,
But from your people’s ignorance and mental poverty –

demi-god leading demi-dogs
On a cause that everyone must accept by the sword.
Like you have a personal vendetta
To redeem our ‘lost’ souls!

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