Slay with sense!

In recent times, the phrase “A slay queen ” will usually depict someone who can slay any given person by simply stating their opinion on social media to gain comments or likes. They could also slay in dresses for attention and sometimes even go naked  for the same attention on social.

But where I do have problem with  some of these ladies turned slay mama or slay queens is that, they feel they have more money than their husbands, boyfriends or fiance, so they always want to be in control of their relationship, taking advantage of everything, hmmm… if you’re a gf, go back to your mother and learn about relationships, if you’re his fiancee, my sister you’ll soon join those sitting in front of the church shouting i recieve my husband, then you go blaming one unknown spiritual husband and your innocent village people who are busy managing 3days eba in this suffering and smilling recession, smh, you are the spiritual husband of yourself incase your brain is paining you and you have no idea, y’all( slay mama) better go join a prayer band in your church and  start praying for sense now before you tell  brother so and so “I do”. Please try and wake up , so you don’t spend years of menopause waiting for “Mr completely perfect “.

SLAY WITH SENSE!

Cum Highness

It was  indeed a bizzare encounter on that Friday eve of (love). We were back much sooner than we expected. Just a feel from the wraps,initially I seldom would never consent. White paper wraps of weed smeared with hot mentol was a wild invitation for me to choke to death. Although I felt a bit exasperated at first, I never knew who held my head, but what I can tell was my desire to part a red sea no one else saw but me. The smell of alcohol oozing out of my trachea was so disgusting and nauseating, but I couldn’t help the freshness I ascribed to it all for the sake of highness. Tipsy moves as i danced. Cognac speech as i yelled, broken bottles adding to the melodious songs that played sonorously in my head. I could still see her smile as she drank, but what i didn’t know was that she was not even drinking anything , rather she was weeping.  Perhaps for my show of stupidity. As much as i tried helplessly to diagnose the unprecented experience, what I didn’t quite grasp was that I was already falling in love within the confines of my clumsy corrogated imagination.  I had struggled up from the floor where i fell on, leapt ashore from the lake surface of the cosmos of non fiction.  Yes! This was something I wanted, something I craved for, a sort of adventure I looked forward to enthusiastically . Something that made me think for once I could grab those bars of contest and shake them hard like a frenzied leopard.  I felt my heart was about to burst. I felt i heard thunderbolts splitting apart my earlobes. I felt like it was the end, the end of something i didn’t even know of , i felt a heavy metal shattered my head  and my clenched fists became numb. A sudden clogging of my lungs, indeed i was high but without a clue that i was low like a humanimal.

#This narrative is simply Fiction#stay out of drugs.

Sex in the city

Many societies provide some alternative sexual outlets or tolerate some degrees of sexual indulgence for whatever social purpose( e.g as a preparation for marriage or a means of  determining fertility), the marriage and family system remain the principal setting within which most sexual intercourse must occur. 

No society allows its members to engage in random sexual behaviour. There are always rules which specify who may have sex and who may not, whom one may have sexual   and whom one may not mate with. Hence most, if not all societies, have norms which prohibit sex outside marriage and the family. Question I wish to ask, is Nigeria a red sex society?

#Els ClassOf2017- i am gonna miss you. Check if your name is among the list.

Coming to Ambrose Alli university I would say  made for me an adventurous experience.  An experience of irony would barely wish for anyone, but of learning , I would say it worth it…now don’t get me wrong- last night my hostel was invaded by a group of scumberg who mysteriously carted away with little or nothing that i am aware of. Truth is through out the four sessions, i never really withnessed any thing fascinating except meeting a few good people. I found out with time some were fake but for the real ones i moved on with. You can judge me but it doesn’t change the fact that I am Sheriff. You may have your opinion. The people of ekpoma tend to be so rude and hostile, cost of buying food items quite astronomical, hunger seems to strike you as though your only purpose for coming to school was to eat, even the so called “Aboki” cant sell good suya for you without blowing fumes of tobaco on it before selling. Or let’s talk about the bike men that will proudly snobbishly tell you NO if you can’t pay. I can’t really tell if I still have my sense of innocence that I came in with but after spending four good years in a jungle like-zone, I need no one to tell me I tried as a survival. 

Yes… Indeed the first person I met at the department was victor, my departmental fellowship pastor . I was like ” excuse me bro, are you in 100 level English department ?” He was like “yes.. I am Victor” and i was like ” i am Sheriff” .

Although i was still furious that my coming to write post ume was to study law not English.

As for Victor I respect him for the courage he displayed in leading the class of 2017 in acknowledging the spiritual. I would go to his house to copy notes and that was it. 

Wow! Then I met my good friend ABDULRAZAK ITOTUMEH FRIDAY( A.K.A BELLO ITOTOMEH FAROUK) LOL!!! The first time i met him, he was standing alone at twin lecture hall. And we just rounded off with a lecture by Chris. One lecturer who promised everyone F no matter how good you think you are. I asked him ” please can you give me the list of the books the lecturer just recommended ?” He was friendly and that was how we became friends till date. Then I met Abel and Smith. Nice guys , we were more like brothers.

The lecturers were quite terrifying especially Chris and Anyanwun. Although i was getting to know somebody called Mallam Aliu, the first time I saw him and things I heard about him I feared for my life, little did I know that his course was something i was even going to take as bread at the end. Gradually i started falling in love with English. Then i was told i looked like a senior colleague by the name Samson. He was cool though, especially during our meetings in CMA.  Hmmmm! Popori, the first time i really ever had a one on one conversation with him, was in company of green and white bottles, obviously we weren’t talking introduction to Drama. Oh.. then we needed to learn french . I hated it though but had no choice but to learn it all the same. During our Drama presentation , i was excited, i was surprised that even after the dancing and singing on stage Chris still went ahead to bless some persons with C and F.

ENT for me was cool , i was opportuned to meet friends i would never had talk to till final year. Yes i was very reserved in year one and two. But i believe even till now i am, except you have your reservations .

So many beautiful people I met in English department. I must say the ladies were the most beautiful in the whole campus. The guys were cool and calm. I must say even those I had wrong impression about in year one proved me wrong. They weren’t really as bad as I thought. My encounter with Prof Jude Agho, Prof Adagbonyi,and Prof Egede shaped my worldview about literature. I will forever be grateful.

Well well well.

A special friend i cant fail to mention, Vivian Onyekwe. Most people see her from afar and really can’t tell, but from all I know she is a friend with a golden heart. Critics can run their mouth but she is down to earth nice to be with.

Rose a.k.a Rosimaya, so much to say but she is awesome to be with, very smart. She is special.

I will miss everyone. But God will establish us with a great future. Love you all .

At this juncture i will like to acknowledge some persons, I will  miss the following people.. But If I didn’t mention your name , pls forgive me. Time will fail me to do that.

Victor, Abdul, Abel,Smith,Vivian,Rose,Popori,Azubike Sandra,Ese Adesuwa,Vincent,Patricia,Martha,Oge,Precious,Stephanie,Omo,Onyeka,Faith,Tricia,John,Julius,Johnson,Evans,Ehis,Romanus(Lol), Pretty, I can’t forget you Osas Idubor( Eldejav), Oboh Great( the reader) ,Peace,Uyi,Kelvin,Peter( so funny),Isioma,Sandra Ese,Ifaenyi my correct guy( no more course form). Please if i did not mention your name i still appreciate my meeting you this four years. I love you all .

see you at the Top.

#ClassOF2017.

THE TROJAN HORSE- 4

Derek had given everything he had to turn things around, with no success. He didn’t realize what a strain he had been under, till after it was over. It became a relief, and it felt like a huge mass had fallen off of him, and he was not going to get in a position to be tormented like that again.
One does walk away with scars though from any sort of painful, spiteful experience. He also knew she would have her scars as well. They both had baggage from their past experiences that did affect the way they felt and looked at things. They all have their own “filter” through which they pass and process everything through. Sometimes their “filter” which is set in place and controlled by their experiences in life, will change or modify those things they pass through it. A lot of people seem to weigh everything against what they have “learned” through the things that hurt or helped them. Because of this, people misread each other’s words, thoughts and intents. Both of them would have their own predetermined ideas, and they would not even know they had them and were measuring everything by them. Both of them coming from seemingly failed relationships, would have different things that they had and were dealing with, and would go into a new relationship with those things having an influence.

It was also true that this situation had gotten a bit out of control. It went very quickly from being “friends” to out and out love letters. It seemed a bit crazy, and yet…it seemed somehow……ok. It was puzzling to Derek and it went against everything he thought he believed. It went against every barrier and protection system he had setup. He felt he was “hurdling”  into something, and it went against his natural senses of caution…and at the same time something was telling him that this was ok and was right. Derek struggled to remember just how it went from point A to point B, but it happened so fast.

In his mind he went over and over the conversations they had had by email. He had printed out all of their correspondence before going on his trip, and had put them in order and read and re-read them. He also had contemplated so many times on what she would look like, and the sort of person she would be. ” I am sure she had done the same, looking for clues about me, trying to read between the lines to find out who I really was.” He said to himself. 

Marriage…..was this really in his future with this person?  How could he have already talked about marriage with her, what if Ada in Nigeria gets to find out…she probably would have thought him totally nuts if she had known he had already bought her a ring.  It was supposed to be meant for Alicia since he had already proposed to Ada in Nigeria. Maybe his idea was weird for him. But he needed a lift and certainly he wasn’t seeing it coming from Ada. Derek had asked himself hundreds of times….”Are you sure you aren’t just doing this because you are lonely” Well, maybe…but somehow there seemed to be much more to it than that. When he started writing to her, it was through a pen pal website. He really was not looking for a girlfriend, but rather a girl friend. Just someone to write to, someone who had been through the same sort of  scrap and also needed a friend.

He finally reached the turn, now he had less then 50 miles to go. Coming into some little small town, he was in need of gas. 

        ************       *************

He turned into some small frayed looking mom and pop convenience store and filled up and got a soft drink. Little did he know that while he had picked up gas, he had also picked up a nail in his tire.

He finally reached the little town. He reached for the email to see if he could figure out the directions she had given. It was not much of a town, just a tired and worn out little place that had never been anything and never would.

 You found yourself wondering how it ever came to be and how it had managed to stay alive. Picture the brilliant spot in the universe, this place was as far away from that spot as you could get.

The directions he had been given weren’t the clearest….he drove about for a bit until he finally figured them out. It was a small enough town that he could have just gone up and down every street if he would had to, and it still would not have taken long. 

She lived in an apartment complex. It was a multi-unit complex, a facility for low income families. That didn’t matter. Even though he owned his own home, easily procured for him by Drake, certainly it was nothing to brag about. A small, cheap, rundown brick home in a neighborhood full of homes that all looked the same. So this was no big deal. 

A place to live is a place to live. You do what you can and what you have to and try to make it home.

Derek parked in front, which actually turned out to be behind, as you had to walk around the building to get to the front door, and there was no back door  knocked on the door and she answered and invited him in.  He had some nice flowers with him that he had picked up the night before. It seems a little silly now. But he had wanted it to be special, maybe for Alicia whom he once got enraptured by her charm and so far, it had not gone quite the way he expected. Now, in saying that, he might add that he didn’t know what to expect, this was the first time he had ever done anything like this. One could paint all sorts of images and scenarios of what “could” happen. But for the most part you are going into it blind and even a bit scared, and at times you  seldom wonder why in the world you got yourself into something so crazy and unknown. But curiosity eventually gets the better of fear and you press on.
Watch out for episode 5.

THE TROJAN HORSE{3}


THE TROJAN HORSE {3}


Bryan and Alicia had worked out their affair with precision typified to be miraculous, and every night after they had dinner Bryan went to his room, and waited for Alicia to come join him. She usually tiptoed softly into the main house and made her way quietly up the marble staircase to his bedroom, where he waited for her with so many things to tell her, hilarious stories, alongside a plate of cookies and champagne or even nice photographs he had taken of her at the mall and the cinemas the previous weekend, which they cheerfully sifted through.



There was always this gleeful mood she brought in, always something to share, to chuckle or chortle over, to enjoy, to discuss and then inevitably a little while of lovemaking. Needless to talk much about the pleasures she found in his arm and the continuous discoveries. Eventually the photograph of a girl named Rita had been left exposed somewhere beside the bed, without Bryan’s notice. They spent the whole night snugly tucked into the bed, and they rose together, before six in the morning. They sat for a moment, watching the sun come up,  and then with a last kiss and touch , Alicia went ahead for a quick facial make up. In a strange way she felt herself like being newly married to Bryan.



Before she left she decided to leave with a kiss, but not this time. He was feeling a bit edgy and when she said something he appeared  not to hear.

“what is the problem Bryan” she asked. He looked up at her from the bed where he had been sitting in, as he stared into the sun outside the transparent window with a distant expression.

“I am sorry dear, what did you say?”



“I said that you look apprehensive about something, what could be the problem?”

Her voice was more like a sigh on his neck, and Bryan sighed deeply and laid his head against hers.

As she glared at him closely, she thought again what an arrogant face he got.  She knew he was both intelligent and attractive.

Shortly afterwards, something caught her attention. She stared endlessly at it as though it was her first time of seeing anything of such in Bryan’s room.

“What are you staring at my love” Bryan asked. But she hesitated a reply. He looked at her thoughtfully this time. Her heart stopped beating momentarily for she had gone through his chat messages with Rita. 

Bryan had thought Alicia was the best honey he had ever tasted until she gave him a piece of her long and innate preserved psychosis.



“Who is Rita?” she asked. The mention of the name came like a shock to him. He never envisaged she would know about Rita needless having her as a topic for discussion, but this time it was already too late for him to cook up any lie. He quickly turned to look at her and swiftly snatched his cell phone from her hand.


“I have always told you I hate someone going through the messages in my phone. Well Rita is just a friend…she is my childhood friend.”



“So what explanation do you have for this line up of sweet talk messages she sent you?”


“I am sorry.” He turned toward Alicia in a moment, there was something strange in her eyes once he turned toward her, and there was something in his.

“Honey I said I am sorry”

“Don’t play smart with me Bryan, who is she?”


A surge of jealousy coursed through her, and without knowing anything for certain, she was already trembling with rage. But Bryan was already furious too. He grabbed her in one powerful hand and clutched  until she felt his grip.

“Don’t you get it? I have told you before that she is just a childhood friend, what else do you want to know?”

Her eyes flashed into his. “so tell me, why is she so important to you, if she isn’t your little bitch?” she spat out the word, and without thinking, Bryan grabbed her  other arm and started to shake her, and when she spoke again , his voice was loud and ruthless .

“Don’t you ever call her a bitch, I forbid you”



“Why Bryan? Oh I see, you are in love with her.” She said.

“you could have done better rather than going low to cheat on me with a whore”


He forcefully pulled an arm back to slap her, and then stopped himself right just in time, trembling and insipid. Instinctively he looked at her and observed she was crying, but quickly she raised her head up to look at him. A look of horror on her face and tears brilliant in her eyes.

“I am sorry Alicia, but I think I am fed up with this relationship” he said that although not too sure of who he really wanted, halting between two opinions, to choose from, Rita or Alicia.

“No! You can’t do this to me, damn you Bryan! I won’t let you do this to me!” she was spluttering and there were tears beginning to slide from her eyes.


“You have to listen to me. This is my life and the choice I make is my responsibility.” He said firmly.

“So you are really going to chuck me for that whore, is that it?” she laughed stridently through her tears.

“Well I am …” he said.

“Go to hell.” She pulled the ring from her finger and thrust it into his hand. She spun on her heel to face him and with a tone of ferocity she said “you will pay for this Bryan.”

“We can still be friends” he added.

“You are nothing but an imbecile, a skunk and I hate you” she picked the glass of drink she earlier was  sipping from and smashed it against the wall. The sound of the glass shattering broke the silence that was beginning to surface, and with that she turned and left the room.


 He tried to walk her down the stairs but she turned and looked at him in cold rage, shook her head and finally took the exit.



THE BROTHEL- 5

Kate and the baby came home from the hospital four days later, and when moses came to visit them, kate looked  a great deal better than she had a few days before. 

She still looked tired and pale, but this time there was no bad memories to haunt her. Moses stood for some moment, not knowing where to begin from, obviously the joy he had for the fact that the child was his was enough to make him receive any form of slap on the wrist. ” So you finally know I exist ? “She asked in a tone quite derisive.
Entreating  ascetically  he said ” baby I know you have every right to be angry, but just hear me out first.” 

“Moses you have no idea what i went through the moment you threw me out of your house. I am even surprised you are here to see me, because if your reason for coming is this child then i am sorry you have to leave” she said.

” what the hell are you talking about? Have i not apologised enough? ” 

Kate chuckled and with a shrug she said ” you must be sick Moses! To think you play me around whenever you like, without taking hold of the fact that i am your wife you threw me out and called me barren, now you suddenly show up to take what ? Tell me Moses? Can a barren woman ever be pregnant for you? Please do me a favour and leave my sight right away, because you disgust me.” 

This was a different baby, and she wasn’t oblivious of it. She held the baby closely to herself and laughed when she thoughtthe baby was smilling . She adored him and was glad he took after his father’s facial look, and that father certainly couldn’t have been Moses. Moses had come once or twice to visit the baby, he was handsome but not in a single way did he look like Moses.

He felt it wasn’t cool to ask her why the baby isn’t having his looks. Moses told her simply that he loved her and was sorry. But Kate kept playing and laughing with the baby as though she heard nothing .

As soon as he left, she stood in the doorway with a look of sorrow in her eyes as he drove off. She wished she could tell him who the real biological father was. He told her he would be coming back in  ten months time, he was going to the united states and the only thing he left her with was a portrait of herself and Luke.

             —————————–

Mary walked down to the door hastily as soon as she heard the sound of his car droning. ” hey dear!  where have you been? I have been trying to reach you…” She said.

Moses fell on the sofa like a dead tree in the sitting room , he felt a mixture of happiness and sorrow. He wasn’t so happy that the child didn’t have his appearance but was ecstatic that he had become a father.

“So tell me where did you go ?” Mary asked again. 

“I Had to go help a friend out whose wife was sick and needed a vehicle to rush her down to the hospital” he said with a scheming gesture.

“Oh! How is she doing now?” 

He exhaled and said ” fine dear. We thank God , she almost had a cardiac arrest. “Moses was only ready to have a cold shower and a good sleep, probably when he wakes up he would prepare to go bring Kate and the baby back to the house.
 

The Trojan Horse-(2)

EPISODE 2] 

THE TROJAN HORSE

EPISODE 2

 There she sat, on the sofa feeling vicious and exasperated.  Feeling arctic from the weather, she couldn’t help  but wishing  to have the  possibility of Derek’s cuddling.

 He was the only one she had in her life and now she was alone.  She had become thin not because of her regular gym but simply because she was not well. She felt weak as each day. Despite all that she heard about Derek’s insecerity, she believed in him, hoping someday he would come back for her.

She sat there still, as a rock. Alone in her room. Although there seemed to be this heavy rush that came like a thud in her heart. It had been more than 3 months since she heard last from Derek.  She felt sulky and indignant over his unusual behavior and wished she could bring him down to Nigeria by force. Still the ego didn’t let her move forward to call him and ask his reasons for acting weird lately.

It was still very dark outside when the radio alarm went off in its usual noisy style. Derek wasn’t asleep. In fact, he had not slept much that entire night, and it had been late when he came in.

The day appeared promising; no doubt he was preparing to drive out to a place in Manhattan,  to meet someone he had been corresponding  with through email. He desperately needed a good job and felt a little bit malevolent for choosing photography as a means of survival.  Although the American government had assured the citizenry that the labor market  may be poised to grow that year, Americans will likely still struggle with low wage growth, potentially  placing even more strain on those people living in new York, Washington, D.C. and other high cost cities.

He felt so excited, and wouldn’t want to think for a second the unpleasant moment he had at the party.

He raced through a shower, grabbed up a few things and headed out the door. He had already fueled up the car the day before, but still stopped by the quick trip store for some coffee. He then headed for the entrance ramp and headed for the journey.

Down the road he went, so much to think about, and he was not sure how he felt about the whole thing. Getting to write a person was one thing, meeting them in person was something totally different.

Derek, no doubt had been around the internet world long enough to know people can be anything they choose to in chat rooms and email. You really couldn’t tell what was real or what was phony. He was obviously taking a chance, but then so was she. She had a stranger  entrance to her house, coming from many miles away. Derek was sure they were both thinking  and asking themselves the same questions.

“What has come over me?” he asked.  He felt he could be turned down going by his looks. He was very dark but never considered himself to be ugly. Derek drove on through the heavy downpour that started.

Thoughts rolled through his head,  they had written and spoken of their love for each other. Each saying they didn’t care what the other looked like. Derek wasn’t so sure if they felt that way  or if  it was just a bunch of emotional  talk, he wanted to think he was not such a petty person that would have gone back on his words if she turned him down for not being exactly attractive.

“what would I do if I got there and she is carrying the look of a monster, would I be shallow to back out knowing well that I had fallen in love with a person through email.?”

Derek felt she had said the same things about him. She didn’t know what he looked like, for they never exchanged pics all through their conversation. He  felt maybe she was the sort of person who would back out on appearance. Derek couldn’t imagine the pain and agony of talking to someone for weeks on end, and then have them turn you away simply because you didn’t meet their looks. It was a tough one for him.  Only if he could examine himself honestly enough to answer it. Derek still had several hours before he would be at his destination. He anticipated with so much energy and wouldn’t want to be seeing as a coward. He continued driving , hoping to see her in person.

Who made you a judge ?

Writers tend to see a whole lot. We observe and swallow as much as we can. I am not just a writer whose interest is bent on assasinating someone else’s personality, but to write with a view to educate, inspire and entertain. Most people think you are proud when they see you act or talk in a certain way and then conclude about you. Having a stereotype opinion about people, especially a wrong opinion based on their actions is something many people tend to frown about. For me everyone is unique and that does not exclude the fact that they make mistakes. What gets me angry most times is the fact that, some people would always want to tell you how to live your life, and very quick to judge your flaws. Love does not hurt but heals. Correcting in love is different from imposing yourself as the one with the right personality.

No student can learn in an environment that is hostile and critical. A friend will never tell your secrets otherwise he becomes a talebearer. A writer is not a talebearer. He uses his gift to improve the life of others. 

Nobody likes to be underestimated and nobody certainly likes to be described as having pride as a problem

Being clownish is not a medium to insult the intelligence and audience of others. Some folks might even conclude that by virtue of me saying this, is a proof that i’m being judgemental.

I have come to appreciate people the way they are, some you can never understand no matter how hard you try, else you upset their sensitivity . when i interact with people, psychologically i could tell if they are arrogant or not because psychology is a function of scientific evaluation of different human behavioral patterns.

Even when i do i just flow along as though the person is the most humble person in the world. Does that make me proud or judgemental ? There we go again ! Reasons being that telling him or her could offend, so what ? Let the person be. But Every problem is known to a certain degree by the owner. 

People get offended when you always display your sense of intelligence in any format. So what? Pipe low and always learn to give them all the credits when they speak. That is something i have come to learn recently. 

It takes two to tango. If your judgement will not bring out the best in others then keep it to yourself I suggest.  

sheriffwrites


  1. SEP

    6

    THE VILLE’S BLACK POETRY[ A COLLECTION OF 30 LANDMARK POEMS] BY SHERIFF ONAIWU 

    TALK OF TUGS

    Talk of tugs

    Barking like dogs

    In the eyes of defeat

    Never ate of deceit

    Sweetened wrath unfold

    Amidst burning cords

    Laughing hearts foretold

    In the storm of words

    Praying souls alive

    Walking with hard drive

    Promises from blood exchange

    Nemesis attacking in revenge

    Will there ever be a seed?

    For many fell on lustful weed

    Whose spirit aches for more?

    Talk of tugs lost in the war.

    SUN OF HOPE


    He was a fine looking monster

    Feeding dead bodies with cruelty

    Resisting steadfastly,  the sun of hope

    Shinning from the Everest.

    He walked into the house of a lion

    And had a bloody feast.

    He visited the chambers of the chicken

    And plucked feathers to fly to the sky.

    He thundered  orders like Hitler’s whirlwind

    Sweetened holocaust

    Praying aloud with a garment of purity

    Tears like blood running like river Nile,

    Flooding hearts… of the loafing fathers,

    Stripping young girls off their virgin minds.

    Where is the Sun of Hope?

    Perhaps lost in the derail cloud.

    Meek Monsters ravaging, the walls of liberty

    For the eyes of the crown sees the only broken skulls

    Of golden cuffs.

    His strength choked by the tusk

    Of the Elephant

    The youths are drunk with their sweats

    The widows have slept, for long in distress

    Deep waters on shallow grounds beyond,

    Bearing salt for consumption?

    These monsters are reptiles

    Of gifts and thoughts

    Like the serpent in Eden

    Wishing endlessly for a chunk of  luxury above service

    Digging deep, the tree cannot

    Just fall in a short

    To start, the republic must

    Reach the real public.

    BASKET OF ATTRACTION


    There we were

    In the midst of white bones

    Eating the cold rocks of civilization

    Building structures from exotic strokes

    We were lovers of stories

    Told before the smiling moon

    At the foot of darling birds

    Then our hearts sang of love

    Until the trumpet sound clicked our fears

    Making our eyes to race with no trace

    Poor language for the common

    Sinking the basket of attraction

    Will the white bone forgive this flesh?

    Or should I appeal to whom?

    Basket of freedom and justice

    Adorned with singing holes.

    THE FLOWER’S SONG


    I hear a flower singing

    I hear her whispering

    I hear her moaning

    So striking for liking

    Then I saw fresh turbulence

    Thrusting through the storm

    But her defense was against the condolence

    And so little she withdrawn

    The flower sang songs of truthful lies

    So sonorously for a million years

    Yet died the day she saw his eyes

    This made my shivering tears

    Alas! I must not forget

    That beast that trampled

    Choking the least that knelt

    Smiling to see the wailing candle

    Whether in summer

    Whether in winter

    The flower’s song

    Will not be wrong


    TELL IT NOT TO GATH


    In those days when our backs labored

    When our mouths sucked the juicy clusters

    From the river banks that favored

    Much as Our handsome fears terrified the monsters.

    In those days, our stomach laughed

    Walking the miles of communal destiny

    Relentlessly stirring, the gentle craft

    As our sobbing heart grew with energy

    This mind we have had no might

    It fought but slaughtered his chicks

    Grinding with horns on dark light

    Building the walls with many kicks

    Tell it not to Gath

    The war we lost in our silence

    Making sure of the defeat like a dead rat

    Chased by the shadow of his burning kindness.

    RAIN OF HEAT


    Rain of heat sitting on our heads

    Leaping to stay without a charge

    Tearing our flesh with big black blanket

    If we tell of our torments, a dumb plea for tomorrow

    Rain of heat kissing our cheeks

    Like fingers in our eyes

    Breaking the deepest of our feelings to curse

    In the raging beats, no one cares to dance.

    Rain of heat praising our lamentation

    Endlessly, ravaging our course of unison

    Sending to exile the fresh dew of lofty thoughts

    But in the hour of our faith, we must reign

    Rain of heat, crossing the savannah

    Touching the sky with no apology

    Feeding the lions with bloody ravens

    No more shall this evil continue.

    THE DICTATOR

    The dictator

    Whose hands clap?

    For the weak and beggarly

    I seldom will hold to trust.

    The dictator

    Whose mouth will pray?

    I seldom will trust, yes!

    Not true but the money that sings.

    The dictator

    Whose legs walked?

    I seldom to think

    For once but not in the palace of the maimed

    The dictator

    Whose stomach is empty?

    I seldom to watch in awe

    His Many drums of gin thunders.

    THE EASY BIRD THAT FELL

    So I wept for a thousand years

    Wishing to see your dark feathers

    That flew across the Atlantic

    From the ancient Nile

    So was my tongue

    Without form when forced

    To laugh, the sweet sorrowful

    Laughter of hopelessness

    I thrust through the

    Ancient lore of wisdom

    As a creative artist but turned against

    Wandering the parasitic whole

    They killed him

    Yes! They killed his words

    Like a fragile egg, smashed.

    This palpable dilemma tossed up and down.

    Dogs and Cats


    Cooing noises sputtering

    Like an airy cage that claims merit

    They write and they shoot

    Leaving dead bodies to behold in pages

    Carved politics from thence

    Picturesque of a marked absence

    Big dogs with small cats

    Embracing the narrow incompatibility

    Seeking sensation as viral

    Along the axis of time

    Noting nothing from the past

    But the freedom to assert the individual.

    Spatial distance

    Of the natural cycle

    It must be said in the passing

    That it didn’t flourish in isolation.

    WHEELS OF ENGAGEMENT


    Heart racing

    With a dozen toes

    Rolling wheels of engagement

    Huddled below splendor

    Like fruitful weeds

    Moonlight danced

    With hungry lips

    Soaked in the sweat of history

    On Christmas Eve

    Dressing figs

    Stars in tears

    Racked by terror

    The hanging angry shadow of destiny

    Pulling away from the curb

    Of substitute.

    Body trembling

    Eyes streaming

    For hot winter

    Like cold summer loitering army

    In dismay

    A THORN IN MY FLESH

    A thorn in my flesh

    Children and women in despair

    Sad moon covering our faces

    Fears and tears in wedlock

    Construct edifice of voiceless premonition.

    A thorn in my flesh

    Grave titans assault our innocence,

    Weak armies of religion

    Sabotage our common patrimony,

    Strange mask wearing shame on face

    A thorn in my flesh

    The travelers in procession saddened

    As they journey out of their birth right,

    With handful of bitter waters.

    Misery in the face of deceit

    Rulers in the power house have fallen

    We cannot make war,

    Oh sad! This silent war.

    I wept at first

    Amidst religious hypocrisy

    Stirring man’s inhumanity to man

    At my discovery.

    Spreading killings

    Beyond the pale,

    Giving us irrefutable belief

    Our leaders have all gone to the land of nod,

    Forsaking our interest for a short pleasure.

    Short futility of human existence

    Spearheaded by hell’s agent on mask.

    Doomsday we saw visiting us at midnight

    Slaughtering dreams and visions in few hours

    When the news of his death was a dagger

    In our heart.

    We cried as we walk down the road

    Believing still the side of hope.

    Roll on deep dark north

    For your desolate heritage

    Is gnashing her teeth for the dawning of a new world

    Though you rage,

    Are you so feeble as to be a bound man?

    THE SILENT VOICE


    The silent voice

    Singing with filthy lips

    Built for destruction

    Swift to proclaim the truth

    The silent voice

    Of the messenger

    Walking to and fro

    With a permit for subjugation

    With no heart that pricks

    Feeding on withered facts

    The silent voice

    Of fading tutors

    Binding the weary

    With cords of fire

    Let no heart take heed

    Or be misled to dance in a party of fury

    AMAKA


    Amaka make me laugh

    So tay my belle tear to pieces,

    If I sleep small na she I dey see

    My heart siddon je je

    She com bite me with  malaria love,

    Amaka make me sing for dream.

    Even when I never see food chop.

    Amaka be love me well well.

    She go tell me say she like me

    pass her papa and her mama.

    But the day my small owo turn pami

    Amaka borrow leg take run leave me.

    Chai! Na Which kind Amaka be this sef?

    Oh! My head don dey heavy me,

    I no fit sleep again.

    If you see my mami water

    If you see my yellow pawpaw,

    Help me tell am say I don hammer!

    Tell am say I go buy am aeroplane

    Take fly am go visit angel Michael.

    Tell am say the malaria wey she give

    Me, never still get cure.

    But if I see Amaka la la, I go give am

    Free bullet, make she fall in love again.


    CRYSTALS

    Will this be or not?

    What we pondered to see

    What the carefree situated

    What the folly was all about.

    When will the crystals appear?

    In the face of the sun.

    To bear the son of our watch

    Beseeching the lyricist all day long.                    

    I once saw the fog

    Shrinking like a rotten toad.

    Weaving the weeds of yesteryears

    To show in fare growth.

    It will not be long

    For the universe to judge

    The comeliness of this norm.

    Let the voices be heard

    On the rooftops of the forebears

    Let the weak strike with ten hands,

    Shattering the stake of the claws.

    AFRICA

    She is the beauty that resonates

    My dear Africa!

    The Big Black Bone

    Higher than  the iroko

    Africa

    The continent that is content

    With the blessings of nature

    Sucking the milk from the rock of faith

    She is scattered abroad

    Paintings the great walls of the world

    With roots firmly tucked in truth

    Digging through the oppression that came.

    She was taken away,

    To a kiss the plantation

    Blindfolded against her rights

    Sleeping with a Battered gold skin.

    How long shall the snow burn?

    How long shall the flood embrace?

    Till we journey a thousand in silence?

    Maybe till we share the pain.


    I WILL BE A PRESIDENT


    I will be a president

    When I see no corruption

    I will be a president

    When there is free education

    I will be a president

    When my heart is alive

    I will be a president

    When all the dead are buried well

    I will be a president

    When there is free food to buy

    I will be a president

    When I come to the earth with laughter 


    I will be a president

    That will be paid no salary

    I will be a president

    Whose only food is truth and trust?

    RUN OR WALK


    Back and forth

    like a rocking

    my feeble mind argues

    looking into the mountains

    with blind hope

    This evil under the sun I saw

    Looked me in the eyes

    To curse and bless,

    But my eyes never saw the form.

    The week I wept was never gone.

    Withholding the very essence

    Of the operation obtained

    I must either run or walk

    To free myself from this siege

    The war of content soaking my wisdom.

    Enhance my furious breeze

    To sweep this darkness

    Or I run or walk

    Till I return no more.

    EMILY

    She stood against the wall

    Like a leaping ghost

    Watching as her sleeping shape

    Her shuttle’s journey

    To forever land was unpredictable

    Amidst the bed that fed her infirmity

    Emily!

    Never will the brain sleep

    Without holding the book Albert

    When shall I see that face again?

    Smiling to scare the hawk that flutters

    When shall I hear that voice?

    Perhaps when the dead shall rise first

    Not going up and down

    A lively sight, when we meet in the air.


    RED ROSE


    She brightens like the sun

    Her smile so gentle as the sunrise.

    Her young heart,

    Bearing the crown of wisdom

    Her carriage exudes excellence

    Fashioned for success

    Her sense of humor

    Gladdens the very heart of nature

    She is a red rose

    Arrayed with clarity

    A rare uniqueness 

    That strikes in awe.

              FROM DAWN TO DUSK

    The sunshine was born

    A clumsy brute

    Hungry and helpless he grew

    A mystic drum

    Dissolves the dew

    He rumored about giants.

    The news spread

    And grew like his iniquity

    To feed his slaves without love

    Many eyes watched him weep

    Tilling the ground of sins

    To be buried in cold hell.

    They stared into the vacant space

    Hoping to see a line

    Leading to the promise land

    Still the jailed bird

    Danced madly to the war song

    From  dawn to  dusk.

    THE NOBLE STORM

     wea

    k

    plat

    form OF the

    NO

           blestormw

    as

    th

            e             r

    Eas

    On fo

       rthe with

    ered l

    egs

    thatwalkedthroughthefailedroot

    ho

       us

    e       builtinpain

    FOR this

    W

    asn

    otthe          bar

    gain.


    LET US SING FOR TOMORROW


    I heard of  the second coming

    With prayers and supplications

    Waiting earnestly,

    That triumphant sound

    To reap the harvest of the saints

    To where there is Joy unspeakable.

    He will come in the beauty

    Of holiness. His glory is everlasting.

    There is no end to his reign

    For he is the king of Glory

    The first and the last

    The wisest king of all

    Let the tress clap their hands

    Let the mountains rejoice.

    THE VILLAGE DANCER

    A moment so longed for

    As the desire to watch comes

    Drum beats slamming

    With great rhythm

    The aged all in tune

    Waiting to see the village dancer

    The maidens wearing figs

    Somersaulting in the straight

    Thrilling the hearts of the

    Nobles and breaking the saints

    Lust feeding from blazing beads

    Crawling to interest enemies to call

    Sipping many hearts from free thirst

    Dreaming beyond the planets

    Nice village dancer

    Leading to the dancer

    WHO CAN HEAR?

    Night fall in Soweto

    My child crying in sokoto

    My father reading of Othello

    Seeing the picture of Ronaldo

    Who can hear?

    The whistle that blows

    From the great walls of china

    To the calabash crash in the remote village

    The defeat of the past

    Stirring away the glory

    The miner will only hear

    When the subway is calm.

    This is one way to the day,

    When the day star arises.

    MY GROWING DAYS

    So it was, when my tears walked

    Following me to see my scary teacher

    Smiling sharply at me when I talked

    With no force for it was winter

    I learnt the ABC with heart racing

    Strange voice choking me for no reason

    Blessing me with rigid education

    As my eyes gave little attention

    I prayed to be left alone

    But the more I prayed the I wept alone

    Striking numbers wedding my buttocks

    To rebel no more with dreadlocks

    THE VILLE’S BLACK POETRY

    There he sat with a pen

    Staring at the world

    Hoping to write about nature

    With no plan for structure

    He saw the patch master

    Taking the sloppy pavement

    To the land of recovery

    With no mouth to ask

    Hear what this poet said!

    My heart bleeds for ignorance

    And his followers.

    My eyes must never see this sluggard

    He was a poet with black teeth

    Who never smiled in a hundred years?

    Yes! He was a student of Shakespeare

    That utters wisdom with the flowing ink

    TO BE OR NOT TO BE

    She drank the potion

    But was never the cause for the portion

    The breeze came swiftly

    Giving the instruction strictly

    She was forty

    But he that spoke was faulty

    To be or not to be

    Was the reason for the will

    Strange fighters

    Of turbid lighters

    Relieve the mediator

    From this awful instructor.

    THE GUERRILLA

    Into rage, a wild flame

    Coming to dry up the spoils

    With strong coarse tents

    Examined by confrontation

    Hard   flesh scattered into pieces

    As they attacked violently.

    Left solitary without a people

    With light war fit to drink

    Failed customs and conventions

    To kill but not deliberately

    Although it was a disaster

    Until the Regicide was uncovered

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  2. SEP

    5

    AMAKA {POEM} 

    AMAKA

    Amaka make me laugh

    So tay my belle tear to pieces,

    If I sleep small na she I dey see

    My heart siddon je je

    She com bite me with  malaria love,

    Amaka make me sing for dream.

    Even when I never see food chop.

    Amaka be love me well well.

    She go tell me say she like me

    pass her papa and her mama.

    But the day my small owo turn pami

    Amaka borrow leg take run leave me.

    Chai! Na Which kind Amaka be this sef?

    Oh! My head don dey heavy me,

    I no fit sleep again.

    If you see my mami water

    If you see my yellow pawpaw,

    Help me tell am say I don hammer!

    Tell am say I go buy am aeroplane

    Take fly am go visit angel Michael.

    Tell am say the malaria wey she give

    Me, never still get cure.

    But if I see Amaka la la, I go give am

    Free bullet, make she fall in love again.


       

       Sheriff Onaiwu

    sheriffwrites.blogspot.com

    sherifflitwit.wordpress.com

    sheriffcreate.wordpress.com

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  3. SEP

    2

    THE BROTHEL – EPISODE 3

    Sheriff Onaiwu

    EPISODE 3

          “Young man I think its best you come with us to the station to make a statement” the police officer asserted.

    “For crying out loud officer, what transpired here earlier was never a robbery attack but a mob attack which led to the death of this young girl you see on the floor” he said with a faint voice.


    “You are following us to the station…we don’t have time to listen to your grammar…please sergeant take him away.

    He knew they wanted to prevail upon him, but had little or nothing to exonerate himself.


    John had never been so harassed all his life. He wondered why he should be persecuted for something he was guiltless of. The inspector ordered him thrown into a dark smelling cell. He was stripped naked and beaten mercilessly. His eyes were already swollen. Few hours later, he fell unconscious, the police officers on discovering his situation decided to have him thrown into a thick forest . They had driven for miles, until they finally saw a place where he would not be able to locate his way back. And so they left him there.


    “Lets leave the fool here” one of the officers said.

      “What if he wakes up and decides to sue us for this?” a junior officer asked

    The senior officer standing by sneered and said “you better shut up your mouth and do as you are told”

    John woke up in an unknown location. It was in a remote village.

     He couldn’t remember a single experience and how he got there. His phone was taken by one of the police officers. He fought his way through until he finally saw a hunter aiming at him with a rifle, he gave the first shot but missed.  “Please don’t shoot. I come in peace” he pleaded as he staggered and fell to the ground.

    The hunter who was looking at him carefully thought he was probably an alien quite different from the animals he was used to. He moved further to see if he was still alive.

    “What is your name?” he asked

    “John…” he said softly.

    “Please don’t let me die.. I’m calling on you to help me” he begged.

    The hunter quickly dropped his riffle and pulled him on top of his bicycle. He had so many bruises on his face. The hunter whose name was Suru had a wife and a child. He pulled up and rode to his house.

     “Please dear prepare something for this young man to eat, but first bring him some water to drink before he stops breathing” Suru said.

    John was trembling terribly; he sustained multiple fractures from the beating he received from the police.

    He was given a new pair of clothes to wear.

     Within few days he began to recuperate.                                                               

    One morning John sat with his face looking pale. He was helping Suru to clean one of his riffles.

    Suru sighed gently and said. “I didn’t believe you would be back on your feet so soon. So tell me how did you get to that forest? Were you robbed ?”  Suru asked.

    “Hmmm! I don’t even know…I think I am lost.” He said

    “What do you mean by that?” Suru asked with a look of surprise.

    “I cant remember a single thing that happened to me, the only thing I know is that I had a girl I needed to see ” he said.

    “Can you tell me what the name of this girl is?” Suru asked

    “No. I can’t..my head hurts” John said.

    “You have to try”

    John tried to remember, but all his mind could picture was a girl whose image was blurred. He called on God to help him remember.

    Suru’s wife walked in shortly afterwards with a bowl of pounded yam and vegetable soup.

    “Breakfast is served..” she said

    The two men then walked inside to eat.


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  4. SEP

    2

    THE TROJAN HORSE – Episode1 

    THE TROJAN HORSE

    Sheriff Onaiwu

    Derek walked out of the apartment arm in arm; he got in a cab that took him to Regan drive. He seemed happier alone with his camera. He closed his eyes for some seconds and thought of how she pinched his coarse cheek without a kiss. He had gone through this present point and again.

     He waited until the next day, to send her flowers and pictures. The countryside outside the cab window looked so unfamiliar. After four years of taking shots of different sizes and shapes of women he felt brave as he tried helplessly to protect his emotions.

      Ada was going to wait for him; he had felt the impossibility of staying in America without her.  This was his dream and she wasn’t going to be a stumbling block.

    For Derek, the past week had sped by and by, such that in the morning of his departure he felt drained. He sat up in the bed and gazed affectionately at her.

    He touched her face, and held her close to him. Eventually she felt him swell and hunger for her earnestly again, so she gently touched him.  She often sought to bring him this pleasure whenever he needed it. She had most of it come from her heart. In few hours he would be flown to the states and perhaps be gone forever she thought. And so one last time she moaned softly, neither of them thought of anything but what they felt.

    “Oh, God, I swear I am going to miss you” Ada said.

    In a few moments he would be gone. Who knows how long, the thought was almost more than she could bear. Standing with the others to bid him farewell was something she couldn’t afford as her face got enveloped with sadness. She ran breathlessly having to hear the sound of the vehicle that would take him to Muritala Mohamed airport.

    “Please stay, would you?” she asked feeling helpless.  

    “Do you trust me?” Derek asked

    “Yes I d o… but…”

    He exhaled. “Then you will wait for me” he said.

    “For how long Derek?” she asked.

    “ for as long as you love me” he added.

    “ What about those American girls? Aren’t you going to stop thinking about me the moment you see them?” she asked with so much sorrow in her eyes.

    He chuckled and said “I won’t give you up, not for anything in this world”.

    He kissed her cheeks one more time and went into the car. Derek could see so much sadness in her face, as he drove past, she saw him crying too and looking pale. It was a journey they couldn’t pray against.  They both cried as the driver pressed forward, until finally the car that bore him away disappeared. She ran into her room and closed the door.

                                                            ..…………..   …………….   ……………….

    It was six months and Ada wondered why Derek never called to know if she was doing fine.  Quite unlike him she thought.

    Half an hour later, Derek picked his cell phone but lacked a feeling he had wanted to experience. Torn between affection and terror, he felt she had come of age to confront the realities of life but he felt too scared or rather not prepared to poke on her as that may give him a divided attention. He figured she was doing fine and would rather be focused to achieve his plans in the United States. He considered emotions to be a great distraction and so decided never to call till he was ready.

      Sunlight shinning on the magnificent buildings in the street of New York. This was indeed a new world, and a new life far different from what he seldom relished in Nigeria, if not for the love he found in Ada , probably he would have long contemplated suicide . One time he looked up slowly from what he was reading, gazing directly into Alicia’s eyes. A model he met at the cafeteria. The look of sorrow in his eyes was more apparent, loving what he had no courage for. “May I join you?” he asked.

    Alicia’s eyes narrowing with a kind of viciousness that had no response.

    He waited to get a reply. Mildly worried, it was obvious she wasn’t interested. She had an extraordinary sort of pride; face delicately chiseled as her blond hair fell over her shoulders. She was busy trying to take a selfie.

    “Is there something I can do for you?” he asked. This time with a little bit of gusto.

    “Maybe a little I guess. Thanks” she said. He brought his camera and asked her to smile. The shots taken endeared her heart.

     “ wow! This look awesome..” she said.

     For a moment Derek didn’t know what to say. He swallowed, trying to figure out the best of lines to make in response. He knew she was highly sociable and her accessories confirmed his assumption. Still there was a joy and a warmth feeling of love that bubbled with explosion like fireworks in his stomach.

    “My goodness! You look  lovely, I must say your outfit looks  resplendent.” He said.

    Alicia looked amused, chuckled. “Maybe, although I have heard that a million times” she said.

    “Never in my life have I seen true beauty sitting like raps of fire that attracts” Derek said with his heart racing.

    “That sounds about right to me I guess. I see you not only a photographer but also poet” she added.

    The intensity of the moment for Derek was something he wished wouldn’t come to an end, but on the whole, it was an easy going, delightful conversation. He couldn’t understand why he felt the way he did, but his conscience warned him against going against his promises made to Ada.

    Derek was obviously looking smart in his suit. He could not imagine what business he could have in town so soon after, his arrival. He needed to write about America and take pictures of the sights. 

    That night he felt quite disconcerted. An invitation to dinner by a friend of his,  he had entertained hopes of being a part of was beginning to fade away as he thought about getting  a real job for himself. But consequently he declined the invitation. The pressure from his friend Drake was so unbearable, that his decision to stay back began to fade from his consciousness. He felt that every soul in that whole estate was  already sleeping as dead, unlike the busy night life he was used to in Lagos.  Then came an alien sound, it began as a soothing flow. He stepped outside his balcony to check what it was, he quickly went inside to pick his car keys and drove off. He felt the need to set eyes on Alicia again, maybe this time a better conversation would ensue. She filled his mind all the while he was driving feeling a sense of happiness he couldn’t explain.

    ……………   …………….   …………….   ………………   …………………

    It was an auspicious occasion. The glamor was such that likely would demand a special VIP to grace.

    Bryan nodded and offered his arm, which she took with a grateful look, as he walked through the stairs. His left  hand held hers in a crossed intertwined form as his right hand held the rail. He had these charming eyes that penetrated deeply into hers. She smiled up at him, looking out over  the park. There was still a green blaze in Alicia’s eyes. A spark to behold. Derek wondered who the guy was. She smiled again holding on to Bryan. When he finally saw that, a smile broke out on his face, a moment later she began to laugh and walked a few steps to where he was.

    “ so we meet again” she said, as she sipped from the  glass she was holding.

    “Do you mind we take a walk?” he quickly asked

    She felt his eyes on her, shrugged and said “ OK, sure”.

    Bryan  had so many guests he was busy attending to that he barely knew when Alicia left. 

    They walked through the car park and finally made their way to a room. The room had great walls, covered with exquisite paintings. The paintings and furniture was all a wonderful sight to behold for Derek. His friend Drake who had invited him over for the occasion had a girl he was busy conversing with. All needed to be left alone with an acquaintance just so they could spend the night with some kind of irregular face. “ so tell me something about yourself” she said, pulling towards him

    “Well for all I can tell, nothing really fascinating. Derek and nothing more” he said.                   

    “ I didn’t know you could speak French until I heard you this evening” she said.

    Her silk sapphire colored dress made every sense of the word that she was classy and stylish, such that Derek could barely take his eyes off her “Will you be free tomorrow ? I will like us to have dinner…” he said.

    “ I’m sorry but I will be going to see  Bryan’s mother  tomorrow”

    “Wow! That’s nice…” he added. Feeling a bit emotionally disappointed, he wanted to ask her  more about the Bryan, he saw holding hands with her earlier but never did. 

    “ we can always do that some other time.. well i have to go now , Bryan must be looking for me. Bye” she said

    Derek lost his appetite and didn’t how to make up for the night. He couldn’t wait to look for Drake as he ordered for a cab  and left.

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  5. AUG

    29

    THE BROTHEL 

    EPISODE 2

    THE BROTHEL

    EPISODE 2

    Mary felt quite infuriated as she waited nearly two hours for John’s arrival. She became so bored with the influx of under age girls that danced lewdly to the Congolese music that sounded quite earsplitting; most of the girls were wearing different patterns of short ripped jeans coupled with an outlandish hair style of rainbow colors suggesting that they were out to market their selling point. The strange faces that came out to buy a bottle or two of whiskey at the reception also made her shriek a bit in astonishment. The man at the bar turned to look at her consistently as though she was the city’s most wanted. Mary couldn’t tell the reason for John’s delay but considered it to be a perfect opportunity to quit from the relationship. Anybody could have thought John was the perfect antidote for Mary’s excesses, going by the knowledge he had garnered about her subtle act of mischief and multiple escapades. He never gave her any reason or impression to believe he suspected anything.
    Why he felt so affectionate for her was something he believed could only be a spell, rather than a result of pure intimacy. More worrisome was the fact that he found out of her intentions to have him plunged, because she figured he was up to something he deprived her of knowing. She once overheard him conversing with a colleague of his who worked as a marketing officer for one of the micro finance banks in the city. John was never indifferent to her numerous pleas, each time he went through her phone against her consent to read her chats a fight a brawl followed. He wasn’t the type of guy that had hundred percent patience for blabbing excuses as he seldom listen  to her only to complement with a slap.

    That   obviously was the very first reason they had their first fight.

     “You are a beast John! Get your hands off me” she struggled as she managed to pick herself up from the ground. He hastily launched at her with sweltering punches that finally left her raining clangorous insults that finally left her reticent or perhaps tight lipped.  

     “I thought you were the best thing that ever happened to me, little did I know you are just a scumbag worst than a piece of trash” John said, breathing heavily. 
    They were sweating , staring at each other; they couldn’t resist the urge that followed as John pinned her body to the bed kissing aggressively. Mary felt irritable from the putrid smell that she perceived oozing out of his skin. The room wore a shadowy sunless look, yet she felt each thrust he made aesthetic and dauntless.

    “Ummmmh John I hate you” she moaned and said softly. The synergy they shared was what nobody could explain, for John it was just a sterling droll. Not even one of them could stutter a word. John continued grinding forcefully in a manner of speaking as his mind went through those moments he felt she cheated on him. She enjoyed every spank he gave; her eyes were filled with consuming passion. Quite an enthralling moment, since that was the only thing he had brains for she thought. Mary never denied how he hated him for her weakness to resist his every swift caress brooding in and out of her flesh.

     Few hours later, they were nude in bed as they gawked at the ceiling probably counting reluctantly each board without saying a word to each other. They hated themselves that moment but each waited for who will begin the conversation.

    Meanwhile as Mary regained herself from the memory of that experience, she suddenly felt the need to pick up her clutch bag and leave. Then came this fine tall looking man, standing in front of her , well dressed in a military uniform. He halted her steps abruptly. 

    “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

    A sense of fear gripped her heart but was jolted out subtly. After momentarily staring at his small brown eyes that lit she shrugged and subdued every possible smile on her face from showing.

    “well as you can see, I’m on my way out..so I’m sorry” she said reluctantly.

    “ I don’t bite, just a few minutes with a damsel like you I think won’t make the heavens to fall” he said with a half smile that made her blush a little. Still fascinated by his charm.

     She had wanted to tell him about his fiancé John, but figured it wasn’t a good point to intercept the wonderful bliss she relished.

    “I’m Colonel Moses” he said.

    “Mary..” she said.

    “Nice meeting you Mary, I must admit you are a real definition of beauty” he said

    She laughed gleefully and said “thanks…you aren’t looking bad”

    “Thanks all the same” he added.

    “Waiter! Please a bottle of beer…” he ordered.

    Mary wasn’t too comfortable with the uniform he wore, for she always nursed a phobia for uniform men right from when she was nine.

    “What would you like to take?” he asked, looking intently into her eyes without having to conceal anything.

    She sighed. “Anything soft would do” she said, although in pretense for as much as she had already gulped three glasses of vodka, while waiting for John to come. She tried to salvage with her handkerchief, as her mouth terribly smelled of alcohol.

    Mary had so many thoughts going through mind at that particular time. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if John should come and find her smiling with a total stranger. On a second thought she knew if John should try anything stupid, he would be dealt with by Moses, and that would definitely make her happy and probably tell him it’s over. Whatever it was they shared, perhaps not the money she spent on him or maybe the strength he often exerted on her or perhaps the truthful lies they served themselves with in bed every night.

    “I like to know what a Colonel like you is looking for in a Brothel, or are you one of those…” she said as she took a sip from the whiskey served.

    “Don’t be ridiculous…we are all humans.” He said with a crash of a tone.

    _____________________________

     EPISODE 3

          “Young man I think its best you come with us to the station to make a statement” the police officer asserted.

    “For crying out loud officer, what transpired here earlier was never a robbery attack but a mob attack which led to the death of this young girl you see on the floor” he said with a faint voice.

    “You are following us to the station…we don’t have time to listen to your grammar…please sergeant take him away…” 

    TO BE CONTINUED…


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  6. AUG

    28

    THE BROTHEL 

     EPISODE 1



    John was still sleeping that hot afternoon when his  phone rang. He had a terrible dream about his younger brother Luke, who a week ago traveled by land to Europe and how he drowned in the vast Mediterranean sea without anyone to help. He reluctantly picked the phone and  scratched his eyes accompanied with a deep sigh of relief, perhaps it was just a dream he thought to  himself. “John on the line” he said. The voice sounded quite familiar as he didn’t bother to check at first who it was that called. It was Mary. “John what the hell is wrong with you? didn’t your mama  tell you it is wrong for a man to keep a lady waiting?” she asked authoritatively.

    ” oh!” sorry dear. where are you at the moment?”he managed to ask.

    ” my goodness! are you for real?” John knew he was in for something tough that day. If there was anything he hated most, it was Mary’s style of nagging.

    Getting to the Brothel, he  managed to force his way through the crowd. He couldn’t help but stand to watch the young girl who was being lynched mercilessly. She was alleged to have stolen the sum of two thousand naira from a bus driver. But as fate would have it, she was caught right in the act. ” please you need to hear me out… it is the work of the devil ” she said.

    Part of her face was already bleeding from the bruises meted on her. John stood a distance away, staring at the mob inflicting  injuries on her.He tried to reach out to see if he could stop them, but on a second thought he remembered his rendezvous with Mary. 

              “Make una beat am well well… olei…” a chubby looking woman who probably was in her late 70s said. She spat on the girl who was lying helplessly on the ground trying to escape from the fire that engulfed her clothes. The bus driver stood closer to her swearing and cursing, holding a heavy spanner which he had collected from the front seat of his bus. He used it on the girl so many times, until she couldn’t feel her legs. ” u no go comot for road make i film am well?” a tall lanky boy who was busy recording the dastardly act said. She cried and pleaded for mercy. John went few steps away from the scene  and managed to put a call through to the police,” see officer, please you need to quickly order your men to come down right away to Allen avenue.” he said frantically.

    ” Mr man, what is really the situation?, is there a robbery attack or what..? you better don’t waste our time “

    there is a terrible mob attack here, some people are trying to take the laws into their hands and if your men don’t hurry up to forestall this barbaric act i am afraid the young girl who is in the process of being lynched may  die?” he said frantically

              ” its OK…thanks for the call.we  will swing into action right away.”

    ” please do…” John said as he exhaled. 

        The young girl was already gasping for breath. She was already looking half dead before the police came.  ” where are these criminals?” he asked.

    They all seemed to have fled from the scene as soon as they heard news that the police were on their way. John at this point was confused.. He moved a bit closer to where the girl was, looking lifeless on the floor. Few minutes later the police arrived with a white van to the scene. 

    ” what is happening here Mr man? an elderly woman called  me earlier that  a robbery incident was going on here. Can you explain to us how you are involved in this?”

    chuckling, John said ” I’m sorry,officer i don’t know what you are talking about”.

    TO BE CONTINUED…



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  7. AUG

    28

    stomach infrastructure 


    BY SHERIFF ONAIWU

    A black eye is definitely what u get when u mistakingly shout ‘SAI BABA’ in a petrol Queue.
    Meanwhile the Nigerian naira fell flat against the dollar at the parallel market. Pmb stands for change which is natural and normal, like the sea, it is a continuous but sometimes turbulent flow. While change is inevitable there are people who fear it. I think Nigerians are simple people in the real sense of the word. They are not the type who ask for more like oliver twist, but I wonder if Charles dickens when writing that text ever realised  that most of our politicians are not really like oliver twist because they ask but not for more.( Can I hear an Amen in the house.) They are not looters but ‘takers’ , why should u condemn any politician in Nigeria since they had the common sense  to provide basic amenities for their ‘ beloved’ family and generation yet unborn, rather than the peasants  roaming the streets. After all judging from the biblical allusion Noah was able to save his family…. 

    All they need is just a few ‘ billions’ ,. is that too much to ask for ? .please I never said they are corrupt.  Why can’t they borrow at least 50 Billion naira?
     Mrs A.M who became sick had a dream of becoming richer than business mogul  Aliko, but the law of retribution is never sweet when it comes knocking. I don’t think you will like to call that greed…
    Stomach infrastructure is what I call it. You can’t expect me to work my ‘ass’ all day for the nation and starve my family to death…please just know that as long as ‘u chop and I chop’ Lugard is happy wherever he is knowing that a country like Nigeria is too rich for the leaders to be broke.
     Do we really need electricity I think we do but first let’s vote for light in our own soul and then we can see clearly to vote for change on the outside.

    Nigerians are good people with hope. All they ask the leaders for is job in hand, food on the table, shirt to put on and roof over the head. They don’t need a big printed manifestoe or diet of promises like turbulent wind without rain. What they need is a change that will reflect its true meaning in the day to day living of the common man on the street.
    The reemergence of fuel scarcity in Africa’s largest oil producing nation at this time, no doubt has compounded the myraid of challenges for the new government. Nigeria’s population has been faced with acute fuel crisis resulting in increase in the price of goods and services. 
    At a time I stop boarding public transport because of this egocentric folks wearing dark skin on sticky shirts from sweats that makes them stinks like Holocaust, arraigned  in the back side of the desert.
    They just can’t control their maggot crafted mouth, very insulting and arrogant. 
    This conductor called me a rat because I asked why the T. fair to vegetable market from king square was 150 naira. I ignored him at first, and gave him 1000 naira so he will give me my balance. As if that was not enough he still called me ‘oloshi’ because I gave him 1000 I still ignored him. He gave me my balance then later he asked me to give him 100 naira to give to a lady who was about to go down.
    I did with a straight face then he called me a thief under his breath hoping I didn’t hear that. Now it was pay back time. The dude was about to give me my balance then he ended up giving me 850 naira again forgetting he was only supposed to give me 100 naira. Oh what a blessing. I smiled and collected my balance. When I was out of the bus he shouted on top of his baritone  voice at me (ode okpolu), now this is how a fool ends up calling another person his name.

    I get surprised when I hear that the rise in dollar rate has affected the standard of living in rural communities, coming back from school in the evening after going through series of rigorous learning which lasted for hours, I would trek down with the last strength in me coupled with the merciless scorching sun, that made the town of Ekpoma unbearable for me at such times. Getting to the house where I would fetch the water, I was told to pay 30 naira for 25 litres and when I asked why one for such an amount, the response I got is capable of jerking a dead man from d grave. Like ” my brother, no be my fault o, na dollar cause am” 
    I couldn’t help but wonder if this was an act of exploitation on the students or a means of survival for these peasants.

    Consequently this Increase in dollar rate and fuel scarcity had made me become nearly a praying fanatic for real change and i laughed the same hollow laughter with the tip of my tongue.
    The elders in the cabinet need to realise that ‘ BABA’  cannot be everywhere at the same time fixing the country’s pandemonium. 
    He needs to travel as every good president will do. You have no right to ask him any question since he is the chief commander of the armed forces. But every night on my cold bed I gaze at my rolling fan as I equal its speed as it moves to that of our desire for change. You dare not ask pmb how he utilizes the security votes in his chambers. After all you can still sleep with one eye open that is what I call a joint effort with pmb in combating crime. For a lasting change must  come from a government of the people by the people and for the people.

    Notwithstanding I think it will be best for ‘ BABA ‘ to just minimise his traveling  all the time and focus on how to tackle the monstrous  economic challenges bedeviling the country.

    Change cannot become a chant, even a charade, if the approach to managing the challenges Nigeria faces remains episodic.

    One Saturday morning while taking a walk to go buy some toiletries, within the confines of my hostel just a stone throw away .I saw a group of  young men standing around a vendor shop. The young lady selling the newspapers had a terrible look on her face that could make you forget your name. From a distance I could hear this young men uttering statements of disdain  in their reaction to the headlines that boldly rocked the pages of the different newspaper.
     Somehow I had to go take a look to ease my curiosity, what I didn’t know was that some of these headlines could best be described as an appearance of a moon, just like a human head, with glittering white teeth, peeping out of the unblinking blue sky smiling heartily at those who came either to check If there was any job advertisement or whether any corrupt politician has just been ‘ booked for jail’ , even though we know that some of our Nigerian politicians are saints with billions in their accounts.

    The increase in dollar rate was the chief point of discourse among this teeming youths, as they inadvertently register their displeasure to the point where, one of the young men out of provocation slapped a middle age man who Unkown to him was a senior army officer. This young man felt so upset with the recent economic downturn in the country that he shouted ” we need change o” . The army officer who was standing right  behind him tapped him on his shoulders and said with a calm voice ” its only a matter of time things will come back to normal” 
    but what the army officer got in return for his patriotic and diplomatic disposition was a hard punch.

      Meanwhile someone just robbed him of his wallet hanging at the backside of his worn out trouser where he had some money, a notorious pick pocket who earlier joined in the noise some yelling. Seeing the army close to him he concluded he was the suspect. But hell later let loosed as this young man had his baby face squeezed out of shape and brutalized by this army officer after which he was hospitalised in the emergency unit.

    I can tell that was the last time I saw that young concerned Nigerian visit that particular vendor spot, all the time I had to go through that root to school.

    When we talk about Change it will mean adding value to the crude oil we sell, and refining our petroleum product needs. This will be a positive change that will significantly boost, our income and eliminate the need for subsidy.

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  8. AUG

    28

    SUN OF HOPE

    He was a fine looking
    Monster,
    Feeding warm dead bodies
    With cruelty.

    Resisting steadfastly the sun of hope,
    Shinning from the Everest.

    He walked into the house of a lion
    and had a bloody feast.

    He visited the chambers of the chickens,
    and plucked their feathers to fly to the sky.

    He thundered orders like Hitler’s Whirlwind
    sweetened holocaust
    Praying aloud with a garment
    Of tattered purity.

    Tears like blood running like river Nile, Flooding hearts… Of the loafing fathers. Stripping young girls off their virgin minds.

    Where is the SUN Of HOPE?
    Perhaps lost in the derail cloud.

    Meek monsters ravaging the walls of liberty,
    For the eye of the crown sees the only Broken skulls of cuffs.

    His strength choked by the tusk of the Elephant.
    The youths were drunk with their sweats.
    The widows slept. Yes… for long in the prison of distress.

    Deep waters beyond,
    Bearing frozen salt of compassion for long consumption.
    These monsters are reptiles of gifts and thoughts.

    Like the serpent in Eden
    Wishing endlessly for luxury above service.
    Digging deep, the tree cannot just fall in short.

    To start, the republic must reach the real public.

          # *Black poetry* 
     *By Sheriff Onaiwu*

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  9. AUG

    27

    Makeupbynmb
    EMAIL_naomiesegine@gmail.com
    PHONE NUMBER_08106605772
    IG_@makeupbynmb
    Available to travel.

    Here at makeupbynmb,
    we believe that every
     woman is beautiful, 
    and we all should be
    comfortable in our skin
    #melanin{brown, chocolate}
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    Since 2014.

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