Candy Crush

Standard

(For Chidinma)

Today, I lie on my bed
reminiscing on yesterday 
when we were only teens in high school

I remember
the first time I saw you
I couldn’t stop staring
It was as if I’d seen a mermaid
I was enchanted
You were my enchantress

I remember your cornrows
so lovely, they fit you like the crown of a queen
Your chic smile
sent tremor down my spine

I remember your fair skin that shone
like the golden morning sun
Whenever you passed by
my heart fluttered pulses

If only you knew how you made me feel…

Sadly,
I never got to profess
my deep affectations to you 

Here I am thinking
of what could have been 
had I been a little bolder and less coy

If only I could reverse the wheel of time…

Years have gone by 
since we graduated from DSS
after that final goodbye 
on the day of our last paper

Today, 
I relive these sweet memories
from yesterday’s confectionery 
when you were my candy crush

Advertisements

To be a Woman

Standard

To be a woman,
you must have a vagina
which doesn’t belong to you
but to your man;
for his sexual pleasure.

To be a woman,
you should be submissive
and learn to be quiet
when your man speaks.
Even if you have an opinion,
it is best you keep it to yourself,
let him have the final and only say;
that’s the only way you can earn
his respect.
Else you’d be seen as rebellious;
men don’t like rebellious women,
such women remain single
or get divorced.

To be a woman,
you must be a good cook
cos men love good food.
You have to love the kitchen
for your man’s sake
if you want to keep him.
As a woman you’re a chef by default
and you must learn to master
the recipe of your man’s favorite meal.

To be a woman,
you must be domestic
when it comes to house chores
such as cleaning, doing the dishes,
laundry, babysitting etc.
cos your job is to take care of the home
while the man’s is to take care of the bills.

To be a woman,
you should learn not to dream too big
lest you intimidate the man
and sometimes it might be required of you
to give up on your dreams
so you can focus solely on helping your man realise his.
You’re a helpmeet created to assist the man;
this should be your utmost aspiration as a woman,
which is to be the neck to your man’s head.

To be a wo-man,
you have to be wooed by a man
and must kowtow to his every whims
at the expense of your being.

Photo Credit: http://www.dreamstime.com

Fragile

Standard

I’m fragile
like an eggshell.
I wish I was stronger,
and tougher
like a snail’s shell,
which can withstand anything
that comes its way.
I tell them softly
that I’m falling apart,
burdened by the weights
life gravitates on me
which is becoming unbearable
and already creating cracks
on my fine shell.
they tell me to man up,
don’t be a pussy!
life isn’t a walk in the park
nor a bed of roses,
that what I’m going through
is nothing compared
to what they have been through.
so I shut up instead
and mourn silently.
cos I know I’m not really
as strong as the world
expects me to be.
I really wish I was,
If only wishes were horses.
but who am I
to question the gods
who moulded me into an eggshell
instead of a snail’s shell?
faced with the harsh realities
of life. alone.
my tragedy shall hatch like an egg,
quietly, in the incubator of dusk.

How to Spell Naija (Nigeria)

Standard

N is for NEPA, Never Expect Power Always or whatever they are called now. A leopard can never change it’s tattoo, sorry I meant spots.

I is for illness, the nation is sick! I’m not talking about Ebola or Lassa fever, malaria or typhoid, I mean corruption in its most chronic and cancerous state. I is for insurgence, for Boko Haram and frequent bombing in the north.

G is for gates i.e Dasukigate et al, gates made for the cabal by the cabal and of the cabal. Blessed art thou if you’re a gateman.

E is for EFCC which means Economy Falling as Currency Crumbles, what do you expect from a nation that is so dependent on dollar, which is to say others, for its sustenance. There’s a new hashtag #BuyNaijaToGrowNaira, kudos to the common sense aka Twitter senator, it is now trending while the naira keeps descending.

R is for robot. The masses are robots, zombies, shuffering and shmiling as Fela puts it. They can’t even unite and fight for their rights against the repressive government. All we can do is rant on social media or at best via literature like I’m already doing.

I is for INEC – Indepent National Electoral Camouflage. A sham and a smokescreen where free and fair rigging is perpetrated using ballot boxes and ink stained thumps.

A is for Anger. I dey vex, my people dey provoke cos the country is so fucked up and we are all screwed. But like the adage goes no matter how angry one gets, it still won’t boil yam. A is for APC who promised Change in exchange for the ‘change’ leftover in our pockets.

Val-end-time

Standard

Prologue

Adeola and Abiodun had been dating for over six months, they met sometime in June last year at a mutual friend’s birthday party, Abiodun couldn’t resist her dazzling beauty from where he was sitting at the club, hypnotized he floated through the noisy crowd to where his enchantress was. “Hi, I’m Biodun…”, “I’m Deola…” As the saying goes, the rest is history.

Two months later, prior to much pestering from Biodun, Deola agreed to be his girlfriend albeit on one condition: there’d be no sex in the relationship. She told him she was a virgin and would love to remain one till her wedding night. It was such a big deal for Biodun at the time, yes he really liked her but  c’mon dude was a striker who had got to score. Of what good was his balls if the goalpost was taken away, that was tantamount to taking away the fun from the game. Or maybe it was time for the player to hang his boot, maybe it was about that time.

Though he wasn’t the kind of guy who allowed his women to make the rules, as an alpha male he loved to dominate and be in charge, not the Christian Grey kind of domination though. But not in a zillion years would he have thought such a day would come, the day he never dreamed of or ever thought possible, the day he’d fall in love and agree to a no-sex-before-marriage relationship.

14 February, 2016
9.13 a.m

On the morning of Valentine’s day which was a Sunday, Biodun drove down to the mainland, Kudirat Abiola Way, to attend Sunday service at his beau’s church. She had invited, compelled actually, him to the Believers Love World Valentine service, a special love edition for singles and couples. Biodun never wanted to attend. Church and religion wasn’t his thing, as a child growing up he had been active in church due to his parents influence, he lost interest when he got into the university and started living on his own.

The only time he attended church was when invited to a wedding or any special occasion to be held in one, some of his past girlfriends had tried but in the end they would give up when they realized he was never going to budge. Only love could have made him agree to give it a try once again, even if it’s just for a day – Valentine’s day. Anything for his love, whatever makes Deola happy.

Church service at Belivers Love World wasn’t that bad, unlike other churches the service was very much avant-garde in style. Biodun found it very cool. Although almost all the activities, from the music to message to the talk shows and presentations seemed to be choreographed as if it was a stage performance and they were all acting out a script to the oblivious audience.

Amidst the superfluous theatrics going on around, what fascinated Biodun most was Deola. Her beauty is like fine wine that keeps getting better by the day. He could barely concentrate during the service, at every slight moment his gaze would stray to the beauty beside him, who looked almost angelic in her burgundy gown. Her caramel face shone flawlessly in the dim theatre light, whenever she was singing or praying (in tongues), Biodun’s restless eyes would settle on her and in his mind picture those red glossed lips of hers rapping on his with the same fervour it exuded while praying and singing.

“Hope you were blessed in service,” Deola asked him on their way to the car after the close of service. “Yes I was.” But it wasn’t really the service or ministration that blessed him, he was blessed because he had Deola. He couldn’t wish for any better blessing, she was his woman, his everything.

11.15 a.m

Biodun could barely concentrate while driving, he kept stealing glances at Deola who was sitting beside him at the  passenger’s seat. Deola caught him stealing one of those frequent glances at her, she smiled, “Ahn ahn, please concentrate o so you don’t go and hit someone’s bumper o,” and they both started laughing. “How can I concentrate when my biggest distraction is sitting right beside me.” A car honked harshly behind his Lexus RX350 SUV, the traffic light had already turned green without him knowing, “you see what I mean?” He grinned at Deola who was also chuckling, then marched on the accelerator and resumed the drive.

Biodun pulled over at Ikeja Shopping Mall, to make some surprise Valentine shopping for his boo. He got a customised Valentine cake that was shaped like an heart, on the top of the cake was written: HAPPY VALENTINE; and an italicised ‘I love you’ scribbled underneath.  He also got her a big teddy bear, a box of Bulgarian chocolates, an expensive bottle of Giorgio Armani perfume and a big Valentine card. Deola was blown away, she least expected it. It was their first Valentine together.

When they were alone in the car, she cupped his cheeky face in her palms and planted a hot kiss on his full brown lips. “I love you baby.”

1.20 p.m

After they left the mall, Biodun stopped over at UNILAG hostel, Moremi Hall, so Deola could cache her gifts in the hostel before they head for the movies at Silverbird Galleria in Victoria Island. The ticket stand was crowded, it seemed as if everyone in Lagos was at the Galleria to see a movie, luckily Biodun was able to get two tickets despite the crowd and limited seats available. Suru’lere, the recently premiered movie produced by Rita Dominic who also casted in it, was the movie to be screened.

Everyone except Biodun was enjoying the movie. At some point the soundproof theatre would reverberate the sound of laughing voices, other times it was a brief chuckle. Deola would be like “oh babes isn’t that so funny,” while laughing. “Aww isn’t Rita Dominic so chic”, “the soundtrack is lovely”, “I love that dress”, “Nollywood is really improving o…”

Biodun kept nodding and smiling to all her soft spoken rambling. He wasn’t really into Nollywood flicks, he preferred Hollywood action thrillers and Sci-Fi movies, Deola was the one obsessed with Nollywood movies and rom-coms, it was because of her he was there pretending he liked the movie, when deep within he just couldn’t wait for it to be done with.

5.06 p.m

To make the Valentine more special Biodun had made plans for them to dine at one of the trendiest Chinese restaurant, Marco-Polo Chinese Restaurant, on the Island. A special VIP table for two was reserved for them, Biodun had already booked and paid for it in advance.

The hors d’oeuvre was Bordeaux red wine and chicken-noodle soup served with chopsticks. “Happy Valentine’s day sweet,” Biodun filled Deola’s glass and his with wine. He raised his glass mid air towards Deola’s, “to us”, Deola clinged her glass against Biodun’s, ” to us”, she replied feeling loved. About fifteen minutes later the main course was served, Yeoung-Chow Special rice. For dessert, it was Vanilla ice-cream.

There was no denying this was going to be the best Valentine Deola had ever had, but Biodun wasn’t done yet, he had reserved the best for the last. It was going to be a surprise, safeguarded in his bedroom.

7.10 p.m

The first time Deola visited Biodun in his two bedroom flat apartment in V.I she was stunned. Everything about the apartment, from the furnishing to the wall finishing and even the portraits hung on the wall was spot on. He’s indeed a big boy who got taste, she concluded.

She checked her wrist watch to know what time it was, she didn’t have any intention of passing the night over, that way one can avoid temptation she would say whenever Biodun asked her to sleep over or spend the weekend at his place.

“I got you something, something special.” Biodun cuddled her from behind, his thick hairy hands knotted around her supple waist. They were in the living room, Boys2Men was playing in the background. Unlike previous times Deola didn’t writhe away from him like she always did whenever he held her too close, close enough to stir erotic desires. Maybe it was because she was slightly tipsy just like him. They had too much red wine at the Chinese restaurant.

He curled his moist lips on her nape, at the touch of his lips on her skin she quivered, whatever wall she had erected to wade off such desires fell flat like the walls of Jericho. Her defenses crumbled.

Their lips intersected like two rivers embracing themselves in a confluence, his tongue got lost in her mouth and hers in his. The bridge had already been crossed, there was no going back, it was already too late for such cowardice. No retreat, no surrender. Their bodies were on fire, ablaze on the flames of carnal desires, yearning to be put out. To be satisfied.

The room was cool, ventilated by the split air conditioner who was going to be a witness to the arson about to be unleashed in the bedroom. To add more petrol to the brewing inferno, Biodun began to traverse the aureole of her breasts with his salivary tongue, slowly and sensually. Her moaning was like an aphrodisiac to him, he bit softly on her needle-like nipple which sent electric ripple waves down her spine. “Ahhhhhhhh baabyyyyy” she cried softly.

He lolled his tongue like a rolling pin tracing from her cleavage down to her navel, he sucked at her navel like he was drilling Coca-Cola through a fleshy straw. From there he slid downwards, her thigh lips was already wet when his tongue got there, her wetness tasted like the nectars of an ixora flower, it was warm and juicy. With the tip of his tongue, he titillated every inch of flesh on her pinkish thigh lips. “Uhhhhhh uhhhhhh just like that…” she cooed and shut her eyes tight to savour the erotic moment, “ohhhhhhhh my gawwwd, I love you Chuks!”

It was as if at the mention of Chuks, all the fire burning in Biodun’s body was doused with ice water. “Who’s Chuks?” He asked staring her in the eyes. She averted her gaze from him, awash with guilt, what a terrible faux pas she had made for allowing the name of her course mate who was also her boyfriend, the one who knew how to get her to cloud nine by the mere touch of his tongue, to slip out carelessly in the presence of Biodun, the rich boyfriend. She willed her tongue to speak, but the lies wouldn’t articulate. Her silence made Biodun boil, this time round it was anger. “I asked you a question, who’s Chuks?”

8.05 p.m

Without saying a word, she put on her clothes and dashed for the door. Biodun was awestruck, he wanted to stop her from leaving, she didn’t have to leave, all he demanded was to know who Chuks was. Just tell me it was a slip of tongue, just say something, those were the words his lips didn’t say.

Though he knew it wasn’t a slip of tongue, he was way too experienced to buy that crap, she was definitely screwing some other guy or some other guy was screwing her. It was written all over her expression, no woman would mistakingly call the name of another man while having sex or about to have sex if she wasn’t screwing him.

It broke his heart, to be taken for a ride and a fool, all because of love. Even then he would have believed whatever lie she told him had she been able to pull one, because he still loved her nonetheless.

The door clicked, and he knew she was gone. All the unsaid words and unexpressed emotions in him flowed out in tears, “Deola why?” he cried, “why?”. It wasn’t supposed to end this way, she wasn’t supposed to leave the way she did, without the surprise he had planned to give her.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table, there it was, the surprise package encased in a small red box.

Soliloquy: Conversation With Myself

Standard

“Dude you have been unhappy lately and I’m really concerned. Talk to me what’s eating you up?”

“I really can’t say specifically what’s the cause of my moodiness. It’s complicated.”

“How about you break it down…”

“I don’t know where to start from really.”

“Start from the beginning.”

“Hmmmmmmmm…”

“Take your time pal, take your time.”

“I feel useless right now, it’s like I’m just wasting oxygen cos I’m not really being productive…”

“How?”

“It’s been over two years now since I graduated, over six months since NYSC was completed, by now I should have been fully engaged in something worthwhile. Something I’m really passionate about, living my dreams and realising my set goals. I’ve it all planned out but right now my plans seem to be collapsing like tiles of dominoes.”

“C’mon don’t be pessimistic, remember the verse in the bible that says all things work together for good… Your present circumstance might not really seem auspicious but on the brighter side it just could be working out for your good. Just like the ole saying goes: light shines the brightest when the night is darkest. So chin up bro!”

“Hian! What a smooth talker you are, prolly you should take up motivational speaking as a career just like them Fela Durutoyes, Sam Adeyemis, Niyi Adesanyas et al.”

“Hahahaha not a bad idea, I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Please do.”

“Alright pal. So we don’t trail off from the crux of our conversation, let’s focus on you. So as you were saying…”

“Uhm what was I even saying sef? Biko remind me I don forget.”

“You were telling me about why you’re unhappy and you mentioned being idle or as you put it, unproductive, as one of the reasons for your somberness.”

“Oh, yeah I remember now. Don’t mind me jare, my memory is like a basket, I forget things easily.”

“I see…”

“Hmmm na wetin you see ni?”

“Hahahahaha just like the nusery rhyme goes: I see the moon…”

“Moon indeed, shebi moon dey inside this room abi?”

“Biko make we leave jokes for Alibaba… Let’s continue with our conversation, can we?”

“Yes we can!”

“You’re feeling like Obama abi?”

“Before nko.”

“Hehehehe I haff hia you. So how do you feel now?”

“Still the same.”

“How about your girlfriend?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No I don’t but why do you ask?”

“I feel maybe if you have one, you’d have someone you can always talk to and confide in. And that would’ve made you feel less miserable, I think.”

“Well, like I said I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“How old are you again?”

“C’mon what does my age have to do with this conversation eh?”

“Your own dey your body sha? Answer my quenshun joo.”

“Wareeeva! I’m two two.”

“Hahahaha two two ke? Is that your age or the CGPA you graduated with?”

“How funny, el-oh-el.”

“El oh el indeed. Just teasing you joo.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You’re gay.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hahahahaha shebi na you say make I tell you wetin you no know? Yeah, I just told you one.”

“Still don’t get you, how am I gay?”

“You’re twenty two and you don’t have a girlfriend, that makes you gay.”

“Hahahaha you no well o. So all those Catholic priests wey dey unmarried, dem be homo abi?”

“Hmmmm na you get your mouth o, I no talk so abeg o…”

“So you sabi beg abi? Silly boy.”

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Ajuju!”

“Stop being sarcastic, answer the question joo.”

“Well, if you must know. All the babes wey I toast no one gree for me. Happy now?”

“Na wa for you o, na quarrel?”

“Sorry, no vex.”

“It’s alright, I really understand how you feel. Being rejected by the ones you loved must have really been hard for you I guess…”

“It used to weigh me down but not anymore.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Can you deal?”

“Try me.”

“Hmmmm I know this might sound crazy and weird but I’ve decided not to get married or get into any amorous relationship with the opposite sex.”

“The heck! Are you kidding me?”

“I’m fucking serious.”

“Whoa! Whoa! Do you want to become a priest or what?”

“Far from it, I’d end up like 2Face Idibia entering the place in-between the thighs of all the nuns in my parish if I ever became one.”

“So what’s the reason then?”

“I became born again.”

“Born again? As in you gave your life to Christ or what do you mean?”

“Hmmmmmmmm Justin Bieber on fleek…”

“Please don’t digress, this is serious.”

“I know.”

“What about you becoming born again?”

“I had a reorientation, I discovered myself.”

“I’m listening.”

“I realized the only way I could be happy is by living a selfless life.”

“So?”

“There’s the popular saying, love your neighbor as yourself. You familiar with it right?”

“Yes?”

“Good. I once thought so too at a time, until recently. I want to love my neighbor more than myself, as conceited or impractical as it sounds, I do mean it. That’s the only way I can live happily and be fulfilled.”

“Hmmmm you’re being too idealistic if you ask me but again how does that apply to you not getting married?”

“Let me explain. There’s so much selfishness in the world, people don’t really care much about others; they’ll be like well I’ve to care about myself (and family) first before I can consider others. There are millions of homeless people around, orphans, the old ones without anyone to look after them, the sick dying without access to medical care, hungry children starving to death, children who are supposed to be in school hawking along traffic which put their lives in danger, and so on…”

“You still haven’t made your point.”

“So I asked myself, what really do I seek in a relationship or marriage?”

“Tell me.”

“It all boils down to sex, implicitly or explicitly. Another selfish aim if you ask me.”

“Are you for real?”

“Hold your peace, I’m not done yet.”

“Sorry, please go ahead.”

“I get married, and in time I’ll have kids of my own. I’m bound to be committed to my kids and my wife cos they are mine (nkem).”

“Is anything wrong with that?”

“Not at all but then I it struck me, instead of marrying a wife and giving birth to a couple kids (which is the norm), I realized I could instead devout my life being a husband to the widows, and to those (disadvantaged) ladies without a man to care for them, I also want to be a father to the orphans and to those innocent homeless kids. That’s the family I really want to have. I want to live for others, not for myself.”

“Na wa o, you for just say you wan become Jesus na.”

“Nah, I’m not perfect, I just want to be different…I want to be me.”

“Don’t you think with this kind of life you’ve painted you’re going to end up lonely?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hmmmm probably in time you’ll realize how unpragmatic this ideology of yours is and you’ll change your mind. You once told me you’re very emotional, and are easily drawn to the ladies. What happens to your feelings?”

“I think once you take away sex from an amorous relationship what’s left is friendship. And that’s what I really need, genuine friendship. The sort Jesus had with Mary and Martha. No sex attached.”

“So when your hormones turns you on, and you’re all horny and aroused, how will you deal?”

“I’ll jack off!”

“I said it, you’re gay.”

Caged Bird

Standard

Wings pinned by invisible pegs
Bound in fetterless chains
Through the window within
I see the azure sky
Virgin, beckoning at me invitingly
I imagine my wings unhindered
Free to clap carefreely
They would patter on aerial soil
Like infantile limbs learning to crawl
Slowly at first
Then gathering momentum
It will increase in speed
Faster, soaring father and beyond
The earth’s celing
To a clime consummated by stars
Which would my efforts crown
I see…
A prison without walls
Incarcerated by
Fear
Of failures inevitable