not a stiff in sight

I need batteries for my toy so it goes buzz,

Not just a pack, need a carton batteries.

Purchasing better toy is wise too;

One of those shaped and textured

Like the bulge they are meant to represent.

Better still em grand toy machines,

Bet one could save for that;

They work you up real good

Preventing muscle growth in dominant hand

Or need for an assistant.

Another thought; Chicas should be let in

They provide warmth toys can’t

On a plus, the added symphony of their screams.

My name on their lips,

The beautiful wave it sends drizzling through ny nerves

Intensifying my motion to please.

Ain’t nothing more melodious

A female’s utterance in pleasure.

Ahha! And we play my toys too.

 

THE PROBLEM, OUR SOLUTION

I see the problem, I see the direction but I do not see a solution…yet.

Is there a legal system in our country? We talk about corruption being the problem and that even those in the legal system are themselves corrupt and without shame for destroying the same rules they were sworn in to protect. If this is the case, then where do we begin? Can there be a solution to a man’s compromised mind? It’s just like asking if there is a cure to madness. Some people say there isn’t a cure but it can be managed, but BY WHO in this case? Another man who will most probably get corrupt while managing the corruption? Are we totally consumed in this filth? Do we have to send for the white man again to come direct us? Maybe the female politician, ADUNI OLUWOLE was right after all about our gaining independence too early. Or do we invite the military to force us to do the right thing on the condition of death?

And as things get worse so are the churches increasing in number, more divisions, more pastors and vision seers. WHO CHECKS WHO? For the institutions set up to help the people now take from the people. The pyramid of wealth keeps getting fuller at the bottom and thinner at the top. Desperation sets in; the insurgents are killing and they aren’t killing the bourgeoisie for they are not found in the common markets, churches and mosques. It is the common man like you and I struggling to get the cheapest price for items in the busy market, you and I who walk to the churches and mosques so as to look up to God/Allah for some certain favour, probably for a miracle and change in present status.

A lot of us relax and go about our daily chores thinking it won’t affect us if we just keep doing what we are doing. We forget that we are a whole body as a nation. Unlike the wound in the toe which the rest of the body feels for some time but finally heals, what we are experiencing now is a VIRUS. Yes, it only started in one part but what viruses do when unchecked is spread through the whole body till the body is rendered useless. I don’t want Nigeria to be useless, because I AM NIGERIAN; not female or Igbo or educated or Christian but, first, NIGERIAN. WE ARE ALREADY TOGETHER; we might as well try to be UNITED. You think it doesn’t change much but try being less judgmental of people because of their gender, tribe, religion or mental capacity and watch how the good virus spreads. It always begins with YOU. No political party can save us, only COMPASSION can.

 

HE IS GOD AFTERALL

This was inspired by the movie "LUCY". You'd understand it better if you see the movie. Totally fiction people. judge less. 

 

HE IS GOD AFTERALL

            He had a partner from ‘LUCY’, a female version of Himself. He had wanted someone (a helper) too. When He created for one for Adam (man), He hadn’t thought of Himself but over time, He came to like these creatures, even adore them. He eventually decided it wouldn’t hurt to have one but in order to have one, she had to be distinct. She couldn’t be as ordinary as his other creations. He had given them ability to access only 10%. He had felt they wouldn’t be able to do much damage with that little but then humans always are humans. With as little capacity as 10%, they have still found ways to destroy their habitat, make living unsuitable to others and channeling resources only to a few and these are just the ones that use close to their full capacity. The many others who hardly bother to discover their potentials do worse; they turn to violence out of frustration, malice and envy. Some have even taken killing as a hobby and pronounce that they do it in His name and that hurts the most. It hurts that His creation could become pure evil; they oozed darkness and distorted his landscape with their dark-dotted hearts.

            This was probably why He had created her. To take his mind off these hurting sights and at the moment she was doing a good job. She was a constant thorn in His flesh (when He decided to have one) while still being amazing. He had given her 90% access but constantly made her believe she was a 100% like Him. Of course He didn’t have to lie about it, after all He is God, and He never does. It was for safety reasons anyway; just in case she was to get a bit out of hand, He’d still have the upper hand plus the universe really only needed one true God. He sometimes questioned His decision in giving her up to 90%, maybe 50% would have been enough but He had wanted a being close to Him. One that would have knowledge of the bodies and firmaments and of the unseen, even the beginning and no human could process that easily, not even with 50%.

            So yes, 90% was apt; close but not close enough to dominate, lower but not too low as not to understand Him. She had been His vacation, companion and friend so much so that even on days she was being difficult, He never regretted His wisdom in her creation. Although He didn’t like it when she made him alter things He’d rather leave in place; touch the lives of people when He’d rather let them figure things out themselves, but He also understood that she was emotional after all, He had made her out of the female fold. He had thought it adequate since His creations always referred to Him as a He. Of course He was many things; a He and a She included but the reference had stuck and grown on Him that He now also referred to Himself as a He too.

            He felt her presence now and turned to acknowledge her. She had taken another form as she always likes to do; pleasing His sight with His many creative forms. This time she looked Caucasian and African at the same time. This was a beautiful blend and He momentarily thought of making a race out of this mix. He wondered when next He would see her true form for He knew she only showed her true form on special occasions. He had another momentary thought of making a new phenomenon occur but decide to wait. He reached for her and her form hands touched His and He knew and said that this was good.

COS I KNOW

I hold my head up high cos I know

Yeah I hear the whispers. I see the mean stares

Your smile is so tight. You are really terrible at faking it.

You didn’t have to turn your back to roll your eyes; I saw it coming

I hold my head up high cos I know

I know what I want and don’t settle for less

I don’t rush it to beat others and end up stumbling on the way

You don’t like that I am comfortable in my own skin cos you aren’t in yours

I hold my head up high cos I know

That my mistakes don’t define me they only make me better

You talk about them and dwell on them, wasting your time

You make all sorts of jokes about em while I move on,

 I hear you sniggering

Yet I hold my head up high cos I know

That you hate me for pushing you

For making you leave your comfort zone

You felt humiliated, strained and naked

But to achieve greatness you have to go through these

I hold my head up high cos I know

That you believe you can only make it by working against me

Or without my knowledge

If only you knew the greatness that could be achieved together

I hold my head up high cos I know

That being different is a success on its own

I offered that you be different with me

But you were scared and instead of saying so,

You turned it to hate

I hold my head up high because I know

I know that I still love you all regardless

My motivation is love and in me dwells a well full of it

But in loving others, I love myself the most

And I know you know this

Do you know now why I hold my head up high?

 

PARIAH TO PHARE

 

She sits and stares, motionless, till the tears begin to drop from her eyes.

Her moans of pain are not heard. She swallows them and though the lump is thick in her throat, she doesn’t dare let it out.

She wonders about her choices, if she really screwed things up or if indeed she is where she ought to be.

She never really was given a chance. She never really had what she wanted. Taught contentment and humility she had had to suck her needs and pride back to be accepted, wanted, and tolerated.

She hates that she is still not content, not that she complains about it but her heart knows, when she see those object displayed as treasures to show comfort and affluence.

She seeks to look affluent. To want what others do. To have what others do but she dares not speak of it. She remembers content.

She builds up a character around it. She really doesn’t like glittery stuff anyway or gold, doesn’t match her skin colour. Her crude gadget does all she needs and social media only distracts. Does it not?

Gradually these excuses become her and she grows to realize the bunch of others having it, don’t know why they do. They have become robots, getting what the times tell them they should have without asking questions.

Her inability to blend had made her different, distinct, and classic. She smiles at last; maybe her nothingness wasn’t a bad thing after all. It had fetched her something not bought, no price tag. Something unfathomable; Phare

Failing over and over

Father- daughter

It unwinds him how little, pink and fragile she looks on arrival. He has heard they usually look this way but he manages to see her as more exposed and his first instinct is to protect her. She is his and he doesn’t totally understand how he had contributed to the creation of a being just like the ones he had always adored, admired and feared simultaneously. He holds her in his arms and she moves and makes sounds trying to cosy up into this new resting place. He holds her tiny hands and they are warm then she opens her eyes shyly and looks at him and he is enthralled. It lasts only a moment, her glance, before she shuts them again to sleep but it meant a lot to him, she had seen him, maybe even recognised him. He suddenly realises that he had lusted over and hurt her grown type and he immediately feels sorry for it all and wants to make sure to keep her so much so that none of his type ever lust over her, ever.

He has got this in control; this being a father, amuser and protector thing. He really doesn’t have to do much; just carry her a few times when she’s awake. Maybe change a diaper or two, in which case his wife must feel really grateful and lucky that he is such a good father. His baby is almost always so happy when he carries her and she is happy to do as he says. She seeks him and is excited about anything he presents to her. She makes him laugh hard and thinks him her hero. He likes this position, this control over another being who is his.

Then she starts to want more. She wants more than his attention, his presence, his presents, his tricks. She's reluctant to try new summersault techniques and her body almost always hurts. It’s becoming uncomfortable to look at her or carry her because there are now two moulds on her chest. They just freaking grow up so fast, it blows. That’s what she says “it blows” what happened to the old time “it’s annoying”. What does ‘blows’ mean anyway? The baggy trousers and shirts he bought her now seem to be going down her box and she wears more of skinnies and tights and silk. He hated this loss of control over her and any iota of it, that he thought remained, flew out of the window the day he saw her coming from a party with make-up on and behind her were boys boys? boys!...

He doesn't know how it happens but she gets molested and his heart is broken; he sees her as damaged just like that girl he heard about…

He feels sorry and inadequate for not fulfilling his post as protector but instead of apologizing and helping her mend he becomes a coward. He can’t look her in the face so he avoids her like one would do a plague. In order to protect himself from his inadequacy; which really isn’t his fault, he makes her feel unwanted, ugly, used, inadequate. He turns his own angel into a leper in his house. She feels unimportant probably even like an object to be used. Becoming what society often refers to as a girl with daddy issues. In some off way, she finds she poses some sort of power over these men and decides it is better to make them pay for what is already being referred to as damaged goods. She convinces herself that it is a win-win situation.

A friend of her father sees her in a club or some other place he frequents when his wife is "stressing him out" and goes to tell her father about it. He sits and listens, stammers and raises his voice as he says that he has disowned her a long time ago. He never thought she could amount to anything reasonable anyway. His highest hopes was that at least she’d give him a rich in-law but apparently she couldn’t even do that much. Imagine, she doesn’t even speak the dialect well. She was probably a gift-the revengeful curse of an old girlfriend-sent to punish him. They laugh about this and a picture of her innocent- tiny- pink-fragile-self flashes through his mind and he chokes on his gin. His younger daughter rushes to get him a glass of water and she can’t look him in the eye. This must be a nightmare, his soul screams but instead of telling her ‘thank you’ he yells at her to get another glass of water for his friend who he catches watching her backside as she walks away.

 

rebound

He awakens my senses. I see clearer. I wake and breathe different; the air is cooler, the day a tad bit brighter. An almost permanent smile is glued to my face. The hairs on my neck suddenly acquire life. Almost everything tastes like chocolate and his voice creates a sort of soothing resonance that only my ears seem to catch.

We’ve all heard about the rebound. He/she is the perfect person we find right after a bad break-up or in the process of a break-up. They usually don’t last long; after the first bloomy moments when you completely get over your ex, the rebound starts to seem like just every other person that isn’t your ex. The fantasy fades, the perfection flaws, his/her reference to your ex-lover starts to sound hypocritical and then you discover you have probably made another mistake right after one.

I have heard of the rebound too but you know how something regular happens to you and you don’t want to admit that it is what it is. You are like 'mine has to be different from others. I mean no two situations are the same, right?' There were other prospective rebounds. This one won all others. I can’t help but acknowledge its presence, its stance, its intensity, its gut. It can’t be wrong if it feels so good.

They make you become more self-conscious. Are you tall enough? Is your ass the right proportion? Does your accent sound forced? Things you didn’t bother yourself with in your last relationship because you already landed someone. It dawns on you that you try harder now to impress. You stop to ask yourself sometimes if you should let yourself get consumed again. You start to wonder if you are cool enough to entice em, keep em, if you’d really want to keep em and then what exactly ‘keeping em’ implies.

Intense; the way he can be stoic one moment and then unexpectedly stare boldly, deeply. Just when I think it’s all in my head and that it’s a tease or just momentary, his gaze holds mine and I believe again. I want it to be true. The truth I told myself. Or is it true? I can love again, well…not yet though but it does feel good; all that excitement that come with new flames. I tell myself it is just for fun. Then I catch myself lingering a little too much on the memory of his face.