AN ARTIFACT OF A GROIN WAR
Ekoja’s body was a haunted house. Haunted: by a glowing darkness; by a cocktail of voices fading into silence; by footsteps echoing a numbing pain. [You’ll never know that scars are ghosts until your deepest wounds die but you still hear their voices in your…
STICKY NOTES
We read the sticky notes on her wall today, “What separation technique is used To separate pain from life?” “How does a fish who lost its gills survive? Does it befriend the tides or surrender to The fangs of the waters?” “As a man releases…
Musings, Monologues & Madness
I we do not know how many calabashes of fermented incantations the gods must drink to get drunk, but we know that wisdom is not something the gods give in exchange for kola nuts! sometimes he melts it into verses & allows it to drip…
The Sun That Would Not Rise In The East
The day Akanji hosted death, the crown exhaled in relieve as it watched a hundred and one brittle-hearted fellows adorned with mournful grins, troop to his festive funeral They said: “He’s dead! The man who defaced the wall of humanity with his uncommon shade of…
All The Madness Around Here
Whether or not Charly Boy was born with a placard in his hand, I know not, But his words: “Our mumu don do” must not be left to burn in the fireplace of sentiments Because medicine for many of the ailments that plague our society,…
How A Man Enters Into His Head
These two things marvel me: how a man enters into his head with the map he inherited from his father, walks the winding paths, until he is lost! & how a man hides from death by standing behind his breath, covering the nakedness of his…
Voyages of Deserts & Forests
The night is cold, old & grey, but my thoughts would not let it die. A tear trickles down my cheeks to water the stands of joy, withering in my heart. See, if life is a desert, every man carries his own oases in his…
Even Death Has Regrets
This is a slightly revised version of a poem published by Parousia Magazine in 2018. We thought to share this with you in the spirit of Easter. Enjoy this sizzling Easter poem! Stuck in the throat of the wind is a song, a dirge for…
To woo a man
Who said a woman must sit still like a statue or sculptured image under the tree of love and wait till the wind of fate blows down bat-eaten fruits into her outstretched hands? Who said a woman cannot stand upon her feet like a human…
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