The Rain dance

You are the stranger I envisioned in my dream

what with that quaint looks and pale face

we never know how the cards may turn

I’ll be at our usual place

playing our usual song

waiting for the haunting grip of reality

even if the sky rains with burning embers

I will wait for you there

and we can sail deeper

explore Avalon for all it’s worth

take my hand and let’s forget earth

we can soar like the wingless Phoenix

and we need not talk

we could communicate in our minds

like hummingbird to hibiscus

I’m drawn to your shade of beauty

It’s me, half here with you

watching flamingos move in key sequence

beating the last lethargic clouds out of the sky

and dancing rain into existence like the Rain-man never could

Auf Deutsch

Du bist den Man, den Ich in meinem Traum gesehen habe

mit deinem blassen guten aussehen und alles

niemand kennt, wie die Karte umdreht

ich werde an unsere üblich Platz sein

spielen unsere üblich Musik

warum warten wir auf Wirklichkeit

Selbst wenn, die Himmel mit brennendem Feuer regnet

Ich warte auf dir dort

und wir konnen tiefer segeln

und Avalon erkunden.

Nimmst du denn meine Hand und lass uns die Erde vergessen

wir konnen wie die flügellos Phoenix fliegen

und wir müssen keinen wort reden

wir könnten nur in unseren Sinn sprechen

ich liebe deinen Hautton

wie der Vögel liebe die bunten Blumen

hier bin ich, die hälfte hier von mir bei dir

zusehen, wie Flamingos zusammen tanzen

Schlagen wir die letzte Wolke am Himmel

Wir tanzen bis es regnen, wie als der Regen-Mann nie könnte

Seasoning with secrets

There is a something circulating downtown

The Turtledove sang a cinquain into the eagle’s ear

before the dawn, look up to the sky

and see the moon kiss the ocean while the stars watch

But you see that’s not much a secret

the moon and Ocean french every night

But when you stand out in your balcony

you’ll see shards of a broken face staring back

your mirror’s reflection sells broken dreams

to the woman you’ll never become

So now we’re casting lots, spilling beans

the boys we’ve lusted for and what not

What I love about you is like a minute diamond

and everything else reeks like death

Oh so we’re not gonna speak no more? mighty affable

Girls will be girls like boys will be boys

Is someone hurting your feelings, who me?

I’m only listening to sounds you make that I can’t hear

Words are like dust swept into a corner

spring cleaning came early, open Pandora’s box

Let it all hang like blood splatter on wet marble

Let love to argue loyalty and blame

Your secrets both entice and appals me

Such a powerful sword you wield

but an act of nobility you’ll fail to see

Not until the day you choose to let sleeping dogs lie


Dear Vanity,

What a scruffy slutty one you are

you have succumbed mighty men with your armoured weapon

and ensnared kingdoms of Emperors in your grip

you rave for enmity and war

your reign stretches beyond mere eyes can see

with your succubus sisters, Sex and Power

you dominate and ruin the earth to rubbles

the illusion of sex, how clever your disguise is

Men think it is the biggest enlightenment when coming of age

women bare their chest and buttocks to be successful at success

a dab at Medusa’s quaintrelle’s fate

the art of deception, the most brilliant one there is

has wise men and demi-gods trodding down a wide lane

Enter power, what ordinary men yearn to behold

what mighty governments will never give up

’til the cunning hand of death rips it from cold decaying hand

while others wait in line to get a whiff

from a plumber to the richest man in the world

from a boy with no shoes to an accomplished business mogul in Africa

she doesn’t lie about giving it all up for the one who’d do anything for her

Giving in abundance, yet demanding much more

she strips and double-fucks the brains of men, making them immortal

tho as long as blood flows through their veins, they are still fallible.

Vanity you play a cruel game,

the ball always in your court

who is ballsy enough to stand up to you?

men have studied your approach, and understood your ways

men have slain their flesh and blood to exalt her

but it’s just dust

even more common than cotton with plaids

dust, more basic than atoms

she plays an unfair game, she does

all the same her psalms will echo

from the rotting mouths of wealthy leaders.


A former lost soul.

Pure love and Poetry


Love sweet as a honeypot

Love that entices and wounds me in it’s grip

Pure love that oxidises, only getting darker, gentler, more poetic

as it vibrates in a frequency above all energies

Resonating like minds together, I mean twin souls

like twin souls I’m designed to resonate with you

Feel what you feel

Ache where you ache.

If you would let me,

let me feed you this poetry,

Poetic love as seasons change

Swaddle you in my arm long after the summer solstice is gone,

gone like the plague of jealousy

replaced by pure love and poetry.

Let me vibe with you across planets and dimensions

Inebriate on the language that rolls off your chest

and roll on your chest, like everyday is the last time.

I’ll taste your tongue like whipped cream

and smell your warm cheek as it it were waffles.

Love like the largest north star could not encompass

The magnitude of two exploding meteors showers.

If love had a sound, it would be jazzy blues

with a hint of funk as four saxophones breath out in one voice

and an undertone of bass, soothing enough to melt diamond hearts,

your colour and my palette, compatible.

Gliding on wings, till infinity and beyond

I would lose myself inside of you again and again,

till you find me.

you reach your arm around my waist, so boldly

Your souvenirs are the scratches I leave on your back

as you eat the fruit of longing, the peach of intellect

Sip from the dark berry, supple and juicy,

till your thoughts slow grind with mine, meditation.

Let me meditate in you for a while longer

on an bed of clouds in a warm mood, Chiado vibes

until pure love and poetry intervenes, yielding climax

and you’re heaving coz you’re out of breath, me too.

Then we can lie in a glisten of sweat, unashamed

because pure love and poetry is healing in motion.

Sailin’ to forever

The river waxed and waned

inviting us further into it’s intoxicating lush blues

which melded with the yellow sun

lending us it’s vibrant royal glow

beside me was him,  and he glowed also

I was captured like a sailor to a siren

Because the precedented fear I had was absolved

And I was free

Free to bask in his luscious touch

Free to let him linger from  my cheek to groin

Free to let the skies tell me a story

My favourite being the one of Tsui and Lai, the spirits of the skies

And I wondered if the azure waves crashing around us possessed a spirit too

But the wind exerted it’s hold on us

The hair on my back stood as it pushed and pulled

So I anchored myself to his arm and he drew me in

Far from the harsh meandering war 

I looked into his big cartoon eyes, they were ever so indecisive

I couldn’t tell if they were blue or grren

Gray or hazel

They were whatever the skies and water was

as indecisive as my heart has always been

wandering between  blue waters and green meadows,

gray clouds and hazel chestnut

But in that moment my heart found halcyon peace, securely in his arms

And I decided I wanted that love, those shoulders,

that smile, those eyes in my life

not only for tonight when the harsh wind gave me to to him

The one i’ trust in forever, even as two meteors collided.

A Question of Morality

Or perhaps it is even one of godliness, either ways it goes thus

In the little town of Mayoma,  there lived a lady. Let’s call her Savannah. Savannah was an average woman, wasn’t poor but she wasn’t rich. Wasn’t void of responsibility but didn’t have an overwhelming lot either.

She wasn’t exceptionally good, but she kept away from evil

The lady loved pies. She ate them all year round, albeit she couldn’t make them,  therefore, she visited several bakeries in Mayoma in hopes of finding the best pie-maker.

That was when she met the baker from yonder. She was a good baker,  but Savannah knew they were not the best pie she would ever taste.

But you see, Savannah had underestimated her quest, by now she was far too fatigued to find the best pie-maker. So she settled and said;

mmhmm, good Baker from yonder, your pies are good-ish, might you be so kind to share with me the recipes as well as bake a pie twice a week for me?”

The Baker replied; “Savannah, the lukewarm lady. You are neither here nor there. I thought you will never ask.” 

“How should we arrange this”, asked Savannah

“You shall come to me Mondays and Fridays. Each time you will get a different pie and I shall teach you the recipe. For this it should be 10 shillings each meeting , but since you’ll come twice a week, I offer you for 8 shillings”

Savannah agreed to terms of the female Baker from Yonder and they proceeded with their meetings.

One Monday, due to natural causes, Savannah could not make it to the baker’s shop. She contacted the baker. 

The baker was angry-ish, but she said to Savannah, ” look! today I do not charge you, but in the future when you will not give me at least a 24 hr notice, then you will pay for the cold pie”

“Thank you dear”, said Savannah, “but then I must reduce our interaction to once a week, as my responsibilities have rippled since our arrangement”

“Then you shall pay me 10 shillings and nothing less”

And so Savannah visited the her only on Fridays. Whether she went late or not, she paid as agreed. 

However, the baker did not always honor the terms. She would be busy doing her laundry, or grooming  her cat instead of teaching Savannah. Frequently, the Baker from yonder would end their session before it was up.

Savannah respected the baker nonetheless, and admired her hustle. Therefore she made no complains against her, instead she continued searching for a baker with special recipes that’ll enrapture her tongue and heart.

And she did, but as a courtesy to the Baker from yonder, she refrained from ending their meeting abruptly and informed the baker that their contract should end with the month

One Friday,  while preparing to visit the Baker from yonder, Savannah’s sister developed a medical emergency. Naturally Savannah skipped the meeting and gave the Baker yet another last minute notice.

The Baker from yonder did not care to understand the events surrounding the absence,  she hadn’t made any pie either, yet she ordered Savannah to pay 20 Shillings on the next occasion.

Savannah being neither friend nor foe, weighed the situation and narrowed her decision to two options;

On one hand, she could end their future meetings , but visit the Baker from yonder to pay 10 shillings for the missed session.

On the other hand, she could be irrational and give the baker nada coupled with never visiting her bakery again.

How do you think Savannah should proceed? How would you react if you were the baker?  what steps would you take to rectify a future misunderstanding between the two entities?

Thanks for reading. The image above was way cuter than any pie images 🙂

Stay Blessed!




Could you recognise the silence?

That is what it feels like

when Zenitude and woe swirl around in a chalice

when crickets chirp louder, nearer

when it’s too soon to speak up


The silence is the stillness of a waterless dam

it is the look in her tearless eyes

the doleful journey that’s a lucid trip

It echo like ghost in the wind

that’s why they call her Aura


Yes, the silence is a person

She breaths in, and out

if you listened, you would her arterioles pump

swoosh swoosh swoosh

in the hallowing darkness


She loves the word vindictive

she embodies it, so it is her

For wagging tongues told a classified lie

And she believed them

Immersing in their dripping fallacy


speak and you will be heard, they said

roar and you will command valleys

but her silence echoes to frosty mountain tops

Why speak when hearts will brawl

why talk when no one cares


She invites numbness to all she meets

And like ants to a picnic

They’ll flock around her

Then she performs her best trick

the disappearing act, as she calls it.


Who are we really kidding?

Our chattering minds will never seize

when the heavy drizzle on rooftops halts

Her voice will drown us

In a seething ocean of solitude


We believed it when they said;

speak and you will be heard

roar and you will command valleys

but like Zenitude mixed with woe we’ve found love

In the Aura of withdrawal and silence










Hey Baby, won’t you come in?

Before the brazen sun dehydrates your Ebony sheen. Come and I will take care of you, take you to a restaurant and pay for a room to rest your pretty head.

Please sit with me, a beauty like yourself shouldn’t be outcha.  There are wolves and sharks, and even mammoths, I pay your fare to wherever you wish to go.

Tell them. When you get there, that we are not all the same. We do not use race and religion to destroy each other.  Tell them we have become advanced humanoids. Tell them there is a life beyond recession.

 We are like Israel, God’s holy nation.

I send you to Aso, the rock on the hill.  Wherein lives the most incompetent leader in the world. We let history repeat. All of which; the famine, the suffering, the killings could have been avoided.  Ignorance is truly a disease.

Try and try again to uproot the corruption. fluid lies quakes a united nation, If we are as united then why is there  an uprising in the North, the Fulani’s slaughtering and conquering the Middle belt,  apparently cows are more valuable than Humans.

A leader that enables such destruction, he turns a blind eye.  Then calls the youth redundant. The same could be said of his children, oh wait! they are not counted amongst the average youth.

The agenda has always been Religion.

Brother killing brother. Pastor making coins off the back of docile congregations.  In this land, nothing grows, they only wilt into coma.  The youths flee, to take refuge in another man’s land, so they may not die of vigorous  hunger, and be thrown into a mass grave where no man mourns.

Behold I send you a lamb amongst wolves. This curses we suffer are yet unnumbered. The world moves forward and we slide deeper into the forsaken ages. While some powder their noses behind shades. “Utopia,” they say, ” we’re coming home”.




The Bitter truth

I know not about your faith but mine has been far from smooth sailing. You see things were simpler in the mosaic time, more in tuned with the frequency of  human nature.

The law was, “an eye for an eye”. Hate your enemy, love your friends. Then Jesus wiped all that away with his blood and instead gave us the new covenant that teaches us to be  christ like

Thank you Jesus but ehhh, how do I implement this in my daily life?

Half way through Matthew 5: 34-48, I had to do some reflecting, because I know I was guilty, very guilty of a misbalanced spiritual life.

So I said, Ok father, let’s talk. You know I’m selfish, I know I’m selfish. I even refuse to lend to people I hold grudges against, sometimes they’ve probably forgotten about it… but I didn’t.

I decided to freeze the problem at it’s the root

It was simply because I felt like whatever I give away, I will need.

You can notice how wrong that thought process is ( Matthew 6: 19-21). I suppose there are two kinds of people, those who find it easier to  share. And  me.

The Bible coax us to give, even more than we are asked without expecting it back. Pray for those who persecute us. Turn the other cheek, this is the bitter truth.

If you’re on this same both with me, then the two logical steps (which I am taking as well, is to pray for repentance.  Then, make a pact hat whomever will ask you for anything from henceforth, be it money,  a resting place, clothes, bags, whatever it is, you will say Yes, even if it hurts.

He assures me that from then onwards, it will only get easier, and I have faith in his promises.

If I’m not alone on this, then comment and share tips on what you’re doing to improve yourself.

I continue to pray that God brings out the Goodness in my heart and exterminate all greed. Have a blessed day.

It’s cold outside, stay warm.

Memory Box

“A Sacred being in time she is”


In  time, her reflection will morph with space. Her mannerism is brisk yet mild. Like the whiff of camphor, memories flood in with no back window,

They stagnate there, never gliding away.

She is always quiet. Slightly hard-headed. Seldomly detached. Never over-bearing. No, never over-bearing. So that she may be worthy of love,

A dream that disrupts her tossing at night.

She’d watched herself grow without changing. Drowning herself in  knowledge and skills. Migrating to new world in search of peace. Sinking herself  in despair, deception and abandonment,

What a cynical admiral of love, she’d become.

At every stage of her evolution. she’d considered herself weaker, so the age to shed her harsh shell drew nearer



“But what use is counting time. When she, herself is a  representation of it”


One puff is all it takes to rouse her biggest critic, even then, the high was not enough to cleanse the crater that lay siege in her salty lungs,

Something else broke inside her.

Expunged of all conditions before the fall. She ponders the bitter sweet moment she lust for, but control eludes her. Hence, she shut her doors, her eyes, and her heart,

Never more to be opened again.

Finally folded her life into a memory box. A day at a time. Delved into past insecurities. Unravelled the spool of her wounds.  She’s sailed through a fluster of change,

And made a stop at every port.

Many-a-night she’d stare out the window. And wish upon Nebula. For abundance in strength. Maybe she grants her wish this time, maybe not,

Only the sardonic hands of time will tell.

They dubbed her, fallen phantom. She is  sacred for nobody taught her the subtle charm of humility. The heritage that cradles her venerated heart,

In her time, she will be extraordinary.

As she nestles her head on cotton clouds, she see the quaintness of this fiction-less mosaic . A moment she clearly wasn’t meant to miss,

The conditions that sets ablaze an estranged part in her precious box.