We don’t have to brave a fight to heal

Tomorrow is a new day

but today is war

we bear the heat of uncompromising terror,

press play on life

set actions into motion

our lovers become foes

Happiness is subjective

balance is trivialized

Darkness leads to a fathomless abyss of  bliss,

or disillusion

Man in his feral state concludes;

Content is happiness.


Scary isn’t it?


The unforgiving nights,

when fog rises up the hill

Our faces, whitewashed

marred by the satirical tides we are yet to discover

but must confide in.

Hence, we sip nectars of laudanum

through straws of addiction

the urn feeds attachments

we hope will never run out



we’re seated in a row

unchaste in our demeanor

half boisterous; half nonchalant

on the bus to what is an unknown change;

or to change the unknown

a sign that reads,”divergent only.”

on its bumper

Our mutual feelings, unresolved


When there’s no easier way of letting go

because the truth is only worth denying once.



The House Dragon


Twas the night before Christmas

Throughout the city,

not a creature was stirring

All was still and quaint

well, except at Emily’s house.

Emily was my neighbor,

I know not how true her tale is,

but she swears it unfolded right before her.



Emily was cycling on the open road,


She was feeling optimistic, it was infrequent

Christmas was in two days.

Running errands for her mum

She paddled her bike

whilst humming the first noel

and watched the sun play hide and seek

earphones in, noise out.

Out of nowhere,

Emily hit the brakes a second too late

and the bike was destabilized

which left her tumbling on  the snowy path

She hobbled to the morass

despite her sprained ankle,

to find the cause of her downfall.

Her frown melted away

at the sight of a Dachshund

behind the grass.

She played with it

and hobbled right back home

leaving her bike behind.


Her mum gasped at the sight of her daughter.

“Dear God, did you have to duel for the paprika?”

“Nevermind my ruffled sweater mama, I found me a furry creeter.”

You should return it,” mama said

“But mama, Dr. Jeremy says I need a friend”

so her mum gave in.


Christmas Eve,

Emily made a wish

and cuddled her puppy

til’ sleep took her away.

when her lids came apart,

she was drowning in sweat

similar to the night terrors

Dr. Jeremy urges her to subdue

She clutched her bosom

and searched even the nooks

to find her dog

but instead, she found

the Christmas tree had fallen

the gifts, smoldered with fire.

littered on the floor were ornaments,

and mama’s chicken pot pie.

A horrid, vile dragon rested peacefully


Her marble eyes lit up,

“my Christmas wish has come true.”




Purple Rain

Platform 9

The clanking of the railway tracks warns pedestrians to stand at bay.

The girl wearing black chiffon dress with a green track jacket

stood close, gleaming at a train as it swooshes past us.

She stares intently like she could recognize something others couldn’t discern.



The sky billows above us,

threatening to downpour the heavens.

I needed to be en route to Beaumont

before the rain began.

My guess is, so does everybody else.

All heads turned south to the direction of the train,

except hers.

she remained still,

like there was a magic mirror man

in front of her.



30 minutes will pass before the tracks brighten up in

the distance.

perhaps our train is drawing closer,

but then again, it could be lightening.

The train stops and all of us force our way into the carriage

I feel a drizzle down my arm.



The doors close and the rain grows heavy.

I see a lonely figure outside

Maybe I was wrong

and her marble eyes

wasn’t glimmering at me

like she was reaching through the darkness,

into my soul.



I gasp for air

as I catch a wisp of a fragrance

that takes me back to a time of lonely nights,

and even lonelier days.

The train leaves the platform

as purple rain trickles down her chin.

No Man’s Land

We come from the same land

dear brother,

I trusted you


We walked through the desert

me, yearning for a new beginning.



Your skin like mine is dark

your flag like mine is green

I’m not a slave.

But like the Portuguese pirates of the old world

you’ve branded me, a cow

and while you feel safe in your lofty bed

I cry without end, locked in a cell.


If dehumanizing me earns you a fortune

then our bureaucracy has failed us

the Nigerian police can’t see us as equals

Buhari is blind

and my brother

even as you stand before me

I know you can’t see as a human

In no man’s land,

only money talks.


See my hair,

they twist and curl in the wind like yours.

Oh, how naive I was

to have resurrected hope on sighting you

but when I learned

how  hedonistic you’ve become

With my last strength

I yelped,

My countryman, help me! brother, please.

You told me,

there is no brother in the jungle

before you disposed of my virtue

to a fate worse than repatriating to Nigeria,

Death in the Mediterranean.





A piece in light of the ongoing slave trade in Libya.




What would it feel like
if I stand on the edge
If I happen to be in close proximity to it,
then what?

what if I could walk
maybe I am lighter than oxygen
or maybe I’d get a concussion
either way, I have to know.

but baby girl, you don’t float.
beyond sea level,
everything must tumble


Round and round
it’s all fun and games
once, forgotten
twice, twirling


My hands look strange,
like tentacles
attached to an alien being.

I wonder,
what is the single greatest distraction
from self-love.