3 Poems by Temidayo Opeyemi Jacob


Let God Use You

Service on Sunday comes with a preacher
on a blazing blazer & whatever beautifies—
from the wardrobes of the congregants.

“Our God works in mysterious ways.
He uses filled men to fill empty men.
Deuteronomy 16:17 says,
‘every man shall give as he is able,
according to the blessing
of the LORD your God
which He has given you’.
So, let God use you,
because is usefulness,
your billions of blessings lie.”
The pastor poured from the pulpit.

The scripture
never asked us to give
to those who give the gospel,
neither did it ask us
to take tithes to their territories.

Maybe I should just do
what Deuteronomy says.
I should just let Him
give me strength on
1 Sabbath day,
let him use me on
6 working days
& let him rob me on
1 resting day.
So that I can just have
7 barren days.

he’d use me well enough
to rob masses &
enrich ministers.

Everyone Is on this Table

A white man acts like he doesn’t know
he has a dark blood beneath his loins.
A black man acts like he doesn’t know
he has a white fluid in his ball sac.
They both act like they have nothing similar.
They both act like they live in different planets.

A man of faith makes a sermon against lust
even after fucking many pussies with his mind.
A man of peace tells us not to be promiscuous—
how come he ends up with four wives at home?
Both of them act like judges of supreme courts
but still tell us they aren’t sentencing us yet.

Brethren don’t help; they give direction to Jesus
& when we help ourselves, they’ll say it’s from the devil.
Our fellow pray to Allah for a god-fearing Musa
yet they collects 5k to vote for another Pharaoh.

Imams pray for us and ask for money.
Pastors preach to us to bring tithes to God’s tent
& the money goes into new cars and private jets.
We cry “the world is coming to an end tomorrow”,
but we started building a new mansion today.

Everyone’s on this table, no one’s on high table
& anytime we tell this truth, we see it as fable.

Take Me to Church


I’m made from the soil—
rich particles of lust.
I can’t clothe the truth
that my flesh is lustful—
it is what makes me human.


I just found a lover—
her skin glitters like gold,
imprisoning my attention &
filling me with a free horn-ger.


“Lust is a taboo that must be exorcised”—
that’s what the pulpit preaches.
It doesn’t care about my humanity.


My lover is Healing & Satisfaction—
the hill I want to climb &
the mountain I want to pray on.
She took me to paradise
before death’s arrival.
From the deepest part of my heart,
I seek to pray upon her again.


Pick up your chains &
drag me to church.
I’ll give you full details
of how my prayer went.
Prepare your furnace—
I’ll give you my blood,
create a path to hell with it.

Temidayo Jacob (Mayor Jake) is a sociologist who writes from North Central part of Nigeria. He explores real life experiences and societal happenings. His works have appeared on Kalahari Review, Peeking Cat Poetry, Art and Rebellion, Poetry Soup, WRR, etc., and forthcoming on Sub-Saharan magazine and others. He is a contributor to leading anthologies.

Lake Adedamola is a poet, writer, and editor with Nantygreens, who's worked with several other literary blogs including Brittle Paper. He has, since 2018, served in various capacities on the Lagos International Poetry Festival, LIPFest, team.

Share Your Thoughts