Jolly Ride

Strong arms grip her against her will

Roving fingers strip her clothes off against her wish

Randy hands molest her without consent

Whilst she craves the embrace of the night to shield her dignity

But guess this isn’t her night.

Sprawled and gagged she lay defeated as men without faces

suck the life from her body,

filthy words assault her ears

mocking the body that now seem alien to her

but each has his style, so what’s the hurry

after all, it’s a popular saying, the more the merry

and so on this merry go round she goes…some ride too slow, some much too fast

leaving her winded, she's lost count of how many round she’s gone

Now if only retribution was something she could cash out

rather closing her eyes, praying she could tap out

and bring an end to the rehearsal so she’d wash the stench that clung off.

Oh! She washed it off al-right…the stench I mean

if you count the petrol being poured on her as water and

the match as soap to scrub the marks left off

like wood for a bon fire, she is set ablaze and her captors dance round in glee

knowing they will walk away free

with none the wiser.

Silently contemplating the insurgency of their act

and conferring on themselves the title of zoro

placed to rid the earth of the girl that now looks sculpted from ash

dressed to torment their eyes...with certainty! She was an ashi

well… that’s the line they will stick to till hell freezes over

at least for now, everything looks kosher

their deed hidden but soon the chicken will come home to roost

or maybe …I just have too much faith in fate?

The occultic world of creatives

The creative world is a hub, some might refer to it as a cult; though I had no initiation when I got in. you’d have to drink from the cup of the elders or pray fervently to the gods to look your way and bless you with the Midas brain. Or better yet, you’d lock yourself in a dark lit room, drink stale coffee while reading quotes from Ogilvy/ Bernbach and wonder how you can unearth their bodies and mix a concoctions from their remains so you can get the looks of one and the brains of the other. Turning pages of thick set books and memorizing best practices used then to sell "vacuum cleaner" (which we don’t have here in this part of the world or use). You come out from your sabbatical and proclaim you are the messiah of advertising. You have been given the scroll on the mountain of creativity and you are voltron that is ready to unleash the commandments to the world…Go and flourish; a command whispered in that dark hour by the wise crack that you alone saw and spoke to (probably your evil self).

My First Date

12a.m, Jan 1^st 2013

I’ll remember this date always,

Cos it was the day I had my first date with Him

The date of the crossover to my Passover.

When all was silent, His voice was resplendent

“Be still, and know I’m God’

And so I heeded to the one, my heart I'd seeded

into his care, casting my worries in his lair.

Click…click

9-12-15-22-5-25-15-21

The combination which unlock access into his safe…ty

“I love you” it translates in words

I’m with you, though you will doubt

and you’ll be tempted to go another route

Just stay strong, the world will tell you wrong

“Curse him” he has abandoned you

Words like music. Music like words

Words like music make memories. It has the power to bring tears to the eyes, raise the hair on the arms and incite laughter. Like music, words have composition; its beauty is in the arrangement. It has genre and diversity. Yes! like music, the mastery of all, is the mastery of communication

Music like words invades the mind, plants a seed( good or bad). Music like words becomes a culture, It begins with an idea, a thought; ready to break silence.  It addresses issues with each string and chords. Yes! like words the mastery of all is the mastery of artistry

No title yet

I showed this piece to someone and he says its the beginning of a novel. I will like to give that a try. To begin my first of many first ( I wrote a poem about that)  so please give this a read. lets just say I'm allowing you read my first draft. Like all disclaimer goes, "all names and characters are fictional". 

MIND

I am infinite

light with no weight

inhabiting not race but space

bordering on the existence that I can erase

memories and figures stacked for safe keeping

on my turf with only a snap! heeding

no plea from the body I inflate or deflate

by my presence or absence.

I am the mind

but many pay me no mind

rather choose to adorn me with synthetic

organic or overpriced designer hair laced as aesthetic

sewn by needles that works not as deftly as anaesthetic

fuelling my rage by its constant prickle

bruising my ego with a sickle

forgetting I can choose not to function

With no mention.

So pay heed to my thought

as I have no voice

harken to my plea

cos after this there is no room for appeal

you leave me in neglect

like a house only beautiful on the outside

but rotten as a dead rat on the inside

I'm fertile,

so nourish me only with knowledge and watch me bloom

brighter than a full moon.

N.I.G.E.R.I.A

If I could ascribe a common letter for anarchy

and nepotism, I’d say…N

Cos as a people we have never seen eye to…I

As all we've done is “eat” up the future of the self-conferred title

we tag ourselves, alas (forgetting) it’s the verb

in grEAT but we fail to see the…G.

Vain we have become to no one’s gain

spinning stories that have begun to wan…E

of how justice will be claimed for all maimed

yet if our voice is as loud as a lions

then why can’t we roa…R.

Letting our whips crackle and the demons

sent to hades for the crime and bloodshed

as all in favour of no amnesty nor dialogue say….I.

We have become a nation lesser than the

dreams of our father fathers fathers

A dream though little blossomed to forge

the name we now self loathingly take pride in.

A country that defined our identity is now a shadow

of the dreams of heroes past

A nation where her citizens are no longer bound in freedom

lacking peace and tranquility

deride peace and unity.

A nation unstable and in the throes of bowing

in veneration to shambles

forgetting there is strength in numbers like

words will be meaningless without vowels

just like her name will be pronounceless without an….A

N.I.G.E.R.I.A

My reality, their reality, our reality

Most might argue that the advent of feminism began recently. For me, I think it started when Eve gave Adam the apple to eat. She’ll constantly remind him every time he complained “Dude, if it wasn't for me, you’d still be in the garden prancing about, so I shouldn't be the slave”.  We often try to separate the reality from our reality. (Did you even get that?) Why don’t I explain?

Rumour has it

Rumour has it

That I’m afraid to love

That I’m scared, that why I act tough

Hence I exude a hard core, and play rough

Scorning scrutiny and shoving attention off

Rumour has it

That I stand on the losing end

Not conscious of the glee, having one more than a friend

Acting like a cornered cat

Unsheathing my claws and cutting any who dares flat

Rumour has it

That If I open just a crack

There be a meeting and a spark

Of two hearts fusing as one

With no intended pun

Rumour has it

If I don’t tow the path

Laid by ideals, I’ll incur nature’s wrath

Becoming the source of many-a-laugh

Whilst bemoaning my fate…Oh what a life

Rumour has it

I’d be a lonely old, gray maiden

Triggered by being so brazen

Surrounding myself with tarot cards

Forseeing a future, too late and in shards

God is God

Man dressed in kingly robe
God presented in linen shroud
Man sitting on a high throne
God bent over a wooden cross
Man drinking from fine China
God sipping from a hyssop
Man celebrating with songs and harps
God wailing with parched tongue
Man whose destiny is designed by God
God whose destiny is designed by none
Stripped of his power, glory and splendour
Beaten to a pulp, with wound raw
Tattooed by the whips strewn with thorns
God whose cross wasn't his to bear
Carried our burdens with the weight
Crushing him into the ground.
How can just one man carry a cross
Made from the heaviest wood woven with nails
That dug into his shoulder, making him weak
God who's sourjourn wasn't his to make
Took on a journey of a lifetime with spittle
Laced with bricks thrown at him
Yet he bore it all
The nails meant to bridge the gap between us
Sealed the gap with each blow from the hammer into his hands
The thorns meant to erase the sin of Adam and Eve
Re-established our -heritage as king and heir with each
Pull of the crown unto his head
Oh! How mighty his sufferings were yet he bore with no utterance
How little he seemed nailed to the cross, but glorious in his Deliverance
Indeed God is God