if it were me.

Hi, I’m back.

I brought a few friends with me too.

We shared a few thoughts on black history, culture and #BlackLivesMatter

if it were me.

‣ Instagram
‣ Tomi’s Instagram
‣ Ishmael’s Instagram
‣ Twitter
‣ Tomi’s Twitter
‣ Ishmael’s Twitter
‣ Music


Edited by Ephraim Kihondo I do not own all of the footage used.



Poetic reflections on the year 2019 and 24 years of life.

So I turned 24 this December. And what better place to spend my birthday than the place that has become synonymous with millennial love –
Winter Wonderland.

These were some of my thoughts and muses from the day coupled with my footage of how the outing went with my friends.

Be sure you like, comment, share and subscribe!



*Music* @n.kmusic @rrarebearbeats (Instagram)

Romantic Poetry

For The World.

A poem on salvation. Of Ephraim

For the world

He was spat on

Beaten, yet He tottered on

Bruised, He still stumbled along

Whipped in your place, He trotted along.

For doubters and naysayers,

For sinners and the worst of sinners,

In all our place

His death was our death

And our death was His

And His resurrection yours.;

His authority,

His righteousness,

His power,

His glory,

His love

Are alive and living in my blood.

Everything of mine is His

And everything of His

Is mine.


I John 2:2

And He Himself is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the whole world.”‬

YouTube |

Subscribe via email in the menu to receive notifications for every new Songs of Ephraim post!

Romantic Poetry


An exclusive extract from the upcoming book written by Ephraim Kihondo and illustrated by Adrian Sempa.

The Lover, a romantic
The Loved, a pursuant of love
Perceptive, an observant narrator


Every hole has a heart to it

And every heart has a key to it.

In fact, every hole has a key to it

And every key has a heart attached to it.

There appears to be a certain epidemic that plagues the heart of man,

That has caused a wound that the helping hands of man cannot heal.

It is the disease of love;

A gaping gap that is desired to be filled by all,

That cannot be filled by all,

But can only be filled by One.

“KEYHOLE” (2019)
Illustrated by Adrian Sempa


For centuries and a day,

My heart has longed

To find the whole of itself,

Perhaps in an unobtainable place,

Perhaps it is someone else

Or perhaps I am confusing myself.

For man often turns to the busyness and activities of life

To cause his heart to forget itself of its desperate cry
For wholeness.

And for a temporary vapour of time

When busying himself,

Man thinks he has won –

Man is lured to the false pretence of completeness –

Until man is stripped naked at that activity’s end,

Where he once again realises his heart’s emptiness

And frantically searches again to busy himself.

This is the cycle of man

And this cycle matches man’s slow

But unapparent sinking into a depressive state.

Man knows he is defeated but refuses to surrender

Even when on his knees,

And when his last resort had long ago

Become his only plan of sort.

How does one break this circle?

How can I find this Holy Grail

For my heart to find its rightful rest?

Is this quest for love destined in the stars to fail?

Adrian Sempa |
Ephraim Kihondo |

YouTube |

Subscribe via email in the menu to receive notifications for every new post!

Stay updated to know about the upcoming book!

© 2019 Poetic Philosophy
Ephraim Kihondo



A short production on friendship and love.

True love and friendship is found in the lover of the world who befriends all who receive His welcome of eternal life.

Be sure to like, comment, share and subscribe if you enjoyed this video!

“No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you.”
John 15:15


*Youth Group*








Glory Bliss.

My first musical YouTube video!


Spontaneous lyre harp music.
For soaking/resting/meditation/prayer.

Please like, comment, subscribe on the channel, there is much more unique content (more consistently I promise) on the way!

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28





Romantic Poetry

The Pauper Prince.

Priceless love.
A poem. Of Ephraim.

I, a pauper,
Said that receiving love
Was equal to debt;
Not reciprocating received love
Ensured that interest accumulated by the second
And every passing, unfruitful day became a burden.

And so lovers became bailiffs
Who ransacked me of all I had,
And romancers tax collectors
Who squeezed and seized anything leftover.
Receiving love would always cost me
And revealing a part of me could cost me everything.

And this is how I once considered love.

My heart naive –
Led astray by the winds –
Was oblivious to the obscure darkness I was in,
Blowing me to and fro one place to another.
Oblivious to my opaque and oblique surroundings,
Oblivious to my present day oblivion
That taught me that love could take
With the pretence to give,
That love could take and continue to take at will,
And that for love,
One could manipulate and do as he willed.

And this is how I once considered love.

Yet in an instant,
My perspective of love –
Maligned, hurt, broken and twisted by fear and pain –
Was made perfect.

The Lover’s love –
Him being Love
Made me know love,
And the Lover loved me
So I am called the Loved.
I am no longer a pauper
Because now I am a prince
Rich in love!

And this love cost me nothing
But cost Him everything.
And now I am joined to Him,
This love too,
Will cost me everything.

For this love cleared all my debt,
Lifting every burden,
Making this love unpayable,
Making this love
Priceless love,
At a priceless price.

For pure love gives with no intention to take,
And pure love gives and continues to give

And this is how I now consider love.


“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”
John 3:16

Instagram |
YouTube |

Subscribe via email in the menu to receive notifications for every new post!


Prisoner of Hope.

Hope in the place of hopelessness.
A psalm. Of Ephraim.

Was this not the path of my freedom?

Surely, this was the path of liberty?

Yet I am shackled to my pains

Braced with my burdens

And crushed of my cares.

LORD where are you?

The only water I have consumed in this desert has been my tears

And even they are broken

And divi-
amongst each other –

They fall like sha-
ttered glass –

One for joy

Two in hope

And three in sorrow.

Each tear falling like a drop of blood

And in each shattered tear

I see the reflection of my Saviour’s last days in the garden.

My cohorts have morphed into my enemies

My modes of transport have turned on me

Even my feet are beginning to fail me

I have nothing but hope to hold onto

I have only my hope to hold onto

You are all my hands can hold onto!

Sand sifts through my brittle palms and fingers

Sand drowns my ankles in miniature volcanoes

Sand burns the soles of my feet till they are as black as the iris of my eyes

My eyes see no hope –

Except when they are too tired to see no hope.

God stamp eternity on my eyeballs!

Let me see the future with eyes of hope!

Let me taste the joy of Your presence!

Let me feel the embrace Your loving person!

For I trusted man and he disappointed me.

I trusted mammon and she failed me also.

But I trusted in the LORD Almighty,

And He never failed me,

So for Him alone I have become a prisoner of hope.

This is a prison

I never wish to leave.

This is my hope in the place of hopelessness.


“Return to the stronghold,
You prisoners of hope,
Even today I declare
That I will restore double to you.”
Zechariah 9:12

YouTube |
Instagram |
Twitter |

Subscribe via email in the menu to receive notifications for every new post!


The Oil Press.

Cries from the garden of the oil press.
A psalm. Of Ephraim.

LORD why can I do nothing right?

For my mistakes have become the pupils of my eyes

And my flaws are irremovable watermarks on all of my mirrors.

LORD why can I do nothing right?

Is it I holding back Your will,

Is it I at fault,

Is it I not feeling how You feel?

LORD why can I do nothing right?

My frustrations are alight all through the night

They are aloud all through the day

They are high and lifted just like a kite

That won’t come down

They just won’t come down

These frustrations are a ferocious sound

They are never ending and abound

In my throat they are rigid nouns;

I am tired

I am seasick

Take me off of these waters

Bring me ashore from these waters

My toes yearn for solid ground

My head beats for air all around

My body is failing me!

O LORD my God why am I so down?

O LORD my God where art thou in my darkest hour?

O LORD my God when will you fix my frown?

Put an end to this tussle of my organs

Pull the end to the flight of this dark kite

Push this darkness away from I and

Lead me to our garden in haste

Bring me to our chambers at once

Because Your face

Is all I need in this chase

Because Your face

Is my sustenance in this race.

For I am a man limp without You

You are my rod in the day

And my pillow at dusk.

I am in perpetual need of You

For You have asked for all of me

To be all dependent upon You

So I have given you all of myself

Just as You gave me all of Yourself…

Wholly and all for me.


“And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭22:44‬

YouTube |
Instagram |
Twitter |

Subscribe via email in the menu to receive notifications for every new post!

Picture and sculpture by Angela Johnson