Making bills while the sun shines and sets

What's happening fam!!! apologies, for not putting up anything. I've been tied up with work, projects and what-not  This is to officially announce that I've changed Jobs. Yep! I did, things are looking up and lines are beginning to fall in neatly. Also I copped a freelance job for an online platform..Yay!!!..Good news all around. This year has definitely been loving to me.

Last month was black history month and I was gonna post poems daily to celebrate us, but with the change and all, I couldn't. However, I'm gonna make up for it. This month until the year runs out, I'd be putting up poems daily. I know that I'm three days short, so I better make good on my promise. 

well, before I go,I'd like you to visit www.vibeoo.com and check out the cool audio content. 

 

Worth the Wait...

 So someone asked me if this piece was about me, I scratched my hair, shrugged and laughed and conveniently avoided answering. |Now looking through it, I guess, yeah, some bits here and there are about me. ( don't ask where and where). Just enjoy the piece and if you relate to it, Great.

My name is worth its weight in gold

so why should it be sold

in exchange for apples and berries?

I want it written in a book with a mark

that points to my achievements.

longer than a note

scribbled hurriedly at the back of a book.

It would speak of my travails and my journey

with a voice louder than a speaker

arresting your attention with my clarion call to listen

as I thrill you to more than a game of thrones

my life is a drama with no series

Its episodes not in a sequential event.

You see…I’d love to love and like to love but it’s hard

I’m quick to talk the walk but slow to walk the talk

as my six inches shoes won’t let me run

convincing myself that things won’t fall apart

until life does a drive by reminding me of Achebe

and what we have in common, the love of the pen

and the adventure of words on a paper chase,

high on speed as the release of dopamine

is the one formula that gives us pleasure

I’m suddenly flushed with feelings

no longer an android to my passion

cos you see I can be closed off...

just ask the dude that I ran off. He’d testify to my goriness

I slayed men with my tongue, I was on a mission

to rid the earth of something that is impossible

As man and woman must cohabit to make the earth fertile

For how can it survive if we were all homosexuals?

I was more in love with the idea of being a feminist

and too blind to see that I was becoming a masochist

I was fifty shades of fucked up… Christian grey was my mentor

I was in self-denial, afraid to trust until I was thrust by one direction

Not that I didn’t know that I was beautiful as that was the bane of my inexistence

But I’m a circle not a square…with all my flaws…that’s what makes me beautiful

And now I await the one, whose company mine will keep

I’ve outgrown mills and boon, but you are still a silhouette

For your name I do not know but I hope and pray it would be worth the wait in gold.

Ads that I created for Independence

Some independence ads I worked on. I should be posting more of my work here? so keep checking in

Impatient

We were given names so that
we could live out it's true meaning.
To help us grow into that self with the suffix "ish.
Names give us an identity
the first as a personal identity
and the last name to show family relationships
but lets not forget the middle name
that serves so many roles except identification.
It could be cultural, religious
or if you are like me whose parent
had no male child, you'd keep your dad's name
so he wouldn't worry that his branch
on the family tree would be cut off.
My first name is Nancy meaning grace
and my last name is Aizojie
which is something inbetween royalty and kingship.
My middle name holds no middleground
for these perfect titles I have been saddled with.
"impatient" is what it is
Not one to retract, double back or pause
I just want to run, jump,
fly and fast forward to I'm
a patient doctored by self belief
that made me self centred to thinking
it always had to be about me.
I was closely monitored by self denial
so I was never discharged,
taking meds that will self destruct
and lying in a state with no one
to call for aid other than the
self righteous person curled inside myself
and I struggled to break the bond
between me and self
in other not to remain in ICU
cos I couldn't pay the price of solitary
confinement for the rest of my life
I knew in that moment that was
no more than a flicker in the face
of self awareness that I'd placed
an armour that hid me away
from the warmth of others and
I from them, the core of living is
seperating the reel from reality
and accepting that there isn't a director
to stage and retake until we
get the part right.
we ought to live for today or relive
the horror of wishing we could have
done better than yesterday
or die without taking the hand
of a tomorrow never lived
This isn't a self abasement to
humiliate myself and decry my self worth.
what this is, is knowing my flaws
and facing up to it cos I have made
so many mistakes that you should
take this and miss the message.
Memoirs are made from memories
and it's about that time I began
making mine not about me, myself and I.

RAW

I chase you as papers do the wind,
it knows it would never catch up
but still tries to keep up
suppliant to the whims of trajectory forces
of none other than a mix of gases commandeering
its actions and reactions.
A pupil to your iris is all I wanna be,
teach me to see with lenses curved like your brows
and whip me to shape with thick lashes
for there is no wrong to a right that doesn't know what’s left of it.
the feeling so wrong yet I want you right by my side
so let me love even if you don’t feel same
your emotions shadowed by commotions driving your train of thoughts
off tangent to its coordinate into a tunnel of unknown destination.
I know that I'm the constant with you taking different variables
and the only formula that is almighty to our love equation is permutation
cos the probability that you’d give me a chance is simultaneous to dividing by zero
which is equal to infinity after nothingness.
I feel incomplete as this piece feels bare of English
to show contrast other than complimenting the mathematics of falling
heart over head in love cos if my head was involved,
I wouldn't be caught in this dilemma.

Making meaning out of life

I woke up with this beautiful thought. It is short and obliterates any long writeup. I hope you get the intended message and live for it. God bless...

Image source: Google

Copy/words: Nancy

Punk and String

A lil’ advice for sisters;

Never tell how many frogs you have kissed,

especially if you still haven’t found your prince.

uh-un, bad idea. Can see some of you already cringing.

the number that bad? Lemme guess!! 20, 40…

aww man, never let it out…ever

cos if you do the “let’s lay our past on the table so we both can have closure type shit”

with him, well… you’d have closure alright

in the form of a greasy hair punk

who’d treat you like a string hanging loosely

waiting to be plucked and out he’d fling

lest you make a mess of a perfectly

ordered tune of dating, courting,

marriage and happy ever forever.

Now you see where the label fling came from

You always short of breath from the exertion 

and him, tall as they come moving slowly

in between hating you and loving you

and thinking “what is the best way to get rid of her” when you purr.

You see, nothing you do will erase 

the mental paint canvass from his mind

you are the sia to the mese of your past

and no surgery can replace the cut out limb

nor any facial reconstruction smoothen out

the wrinkled lines permanently tattooed on his face.

Trust me no one wants to be told “you are a dog”

but that’s what he’d wanting to use as

the arsenal to ignite the breakup

So, here’s what you should do…but don’t quote me

Lie through your teeth cos honesty got nothing on it.

Even the fairy need a lil twist in the tale sometimes

cos how can there be a maleficent if there

wasn't a sleeping beauty story.

Imperfect

I want to remember my youth

as man recalls evolution

a date of meeting high and err

This tall figure who knows

too well, what it is to be imperfect.

A higher being

who has lost count of how many times

she’s had her back to the ground

but with the grit of my ancestors stamped in my DNA,

I envelope myself in a cocoon of self-preservation

in protection from the heavy lashes that made

catcalls with my skin, singing the redemption song

as I fight the battle of wit with gravity

and still I rise only to fall

but in my defence, it made me stronger.

The days turn to years, a stack growing in their numbers

but I remain stunted wanting only to add decimals

raised to exponentials

for I refuse to be old

even if my body turns wrinkled, I still refuse to be old

even if I lose my sight, I want to see the beauty of my youth

for if age is nothing but a number

what then is time if nothing but seconds ticking

reminding me to check my biological clock

whose hand is close to the eleventh hour

and if not careful all will be lost.

Who am I if not a vessel

who's captain can steer expertly in the midst of turbulence

and bring to berth the spoils of the war with confusion

trying to gain a foothold in the market to fish for nothing

but fool's gold and sell to the highest bidder.

I want to remember that I held on, not surrendering

to the temptation of tasting the forbidden 

not fruit cos thanks to Eve, our eyes have been open 

to the game of hide and seek
if caught, the devil is the victim

but I am still a tall figure who knows 

too well, what it is to be imperfect

A higher being

who's lost count of how many times

she's had a stare down with lust who almost won

but with the words of the testament sealed in my DNA

I'm closed off to the taunts and jeers of hunger

grappling at my throat, chocking my sanity 

yet I'm breathing fine

cos I know that the journey to self is not by the signoff 

gotten from people around me

it is in knowing that even when I fall, bruise myself I am a sign for all 

to see that it is not the end cos still I rise. 

Lack of Evidence

(Singing)

Hush little fetus, don’t you cry

mama’s not gonna see you grow to child

Hush little egg, please don’t you hatch

Cos mama’s not here to keep you warm.

The Nigerian law makes it a crime to perform

or to obtain an abortion, labelling it as illegal

that I can agree with,  people who still do it are

ill from a disease that is making a meal of their body, and

I’m sick of seeing them place an order

to be served Egal to God every time they

snuff out the light and blow into nothingness

the existence from which man was formed

cos how do you explain 610,000 future you’ve pushed

into oblivion and the time you reset

the minute you flushed down the drain

the happiness that could have embraced

 joy with scalpels that tore open your bellies and

vomited the evidence of your…well let’s just say evidence

and in silence you remain 

knowing that nothing could be used against you

acquitting yourself of first degree murder as the plantiff suffered a

terrible fate which has left its attorney defenceless without his key witness.

Now the case has been thrown out of court for lack of….Yea, you can say it again

But do you hear the shatter of the broken lullaby sung by lips cracked

with no gloss to give spark to the voice that chants the melody?

that is the life that could have been the save-your heart lunged for

but no air to breathe your last…

Then you’d remember

how your baby appealed to live

wanting to see and touch your face with hands full of trust

looking to cover your mistakes with glues of toothless gum

not judging, even though you were an accessory to an act

meant only for couples…

But now it’s too late,

A statistics as the child who died the same day

you gave yours for the sake of burying the evidence

They said

They said 
"we shall bring back our girls"
girls that belong to 
them, you and me
It's been 121 days and
I'm still counting
the days to their return
like they struggled to
count the number of girls 
accurately on the Abacus
we use in place of systems.

Systems
that got states united in one voice,
led the march to match
the kidnappers mockery
of my nations intelligence 
who found all exits
but no entry into his lair,
claiming they wouldn't
use force but would rather
police the twenties and
so, it's been 3 months, 30days 
and I'm still counting
the month to their return
like they struggled to
count the number of girls 
accurately on the Abacus 
we use in place of systems.

Systems
that got nations united,
blazed a trail and
would have torched the city
if it weren't for the lives
housed inside plot 234, Bush street 
off forest road, Sambisa 
whilst we on the outside made 
a spectacle of everything but a show,
swearing upon our blood
that we are not show people.

We joined in making the sign
blew it up like Christmas banger
knocked out anyone who dared
to question it's authenticity.

we drank our fill
of a product not tested
draped it on our dps
to show our solidarity
clawed the ground from the earth
to bemoan our fate,
and cried a flood to wash
the taunts of death that
stained our cheeks..
all because our girls were
trending, hashtaged, the
breaking news that broke the
death of silence that held us 
closely to its bosom, and like
mother she rose

graced the podium 
like the dame she is
bled tears to show the
mutilated pupil resting
on the bed of anguish
screamed hoarsely with 
words empty as a barrel 
of its content
cos only those that
have done the least,
have plenty to say
But I'd say this... 
I feel we are being played
and it's a score I want settled
cos I want no part 
in this fixed match.

"Are these girls real"
or just a cover to hide 
under in place of their
umbrella yet can't
offer protection against
the cloud of insult
sweeping towards them by
the hand that holds the broom.

But if they still insist on
bringing back our girls
I'd like to remind them 
that..

it's been 2904 hours and
I'm still counting
the hours to their return
like they struggled to
count the number of girls 
accurately on the Abacus
we use in place of systems