He craves your thoughts, it’s true

on this most rufous Tuesday 

brooding  comets thus align

roughed anecdotes by tantalised masses

Hide yourself from incongruous judgement

this guise to rob your inner peace

shhh even the walls have ears

arm yourself with electric artillery

The silence of a falling  caribou

barely visible from the milky way

alchemized  in a broken solace

in lieu of all the haughty overture

His tongue betwixt with perpetual grievance

embroidered with disenchantment, nae ephemeral sadness

Hovers in the abyss of his mind

the inferno of dark fantasies awaits

He strolls in the endless corridor of subconscious manipulation

 shadow chasing the sons of man and demi gods

polishing up a chopping block 

such a wasteful shame, whose next?

Buoying in a runnel of sanctimonious skulls

Fear ornated with sugar and spice

equivalence of a cherished deception

the centrifugal force could not hold water

The king of sorrow, I’ve heard him called

whispering hubris lies to quaint vain ears

friend or fiend what does it matter

already bitten the fruit of death, you have.

Celebration of life




The magnificent stage light illuminates

Each day the theatre curtains raise

but the show isn’t forever



I know they played their lives well

for even the people who did not know them

sang genuinely of their kindness



I envy their peace

they fulfilled their purpose

and now a burden has been lifted off their shoulders


Sweet scented  flowers surround their tombstone

Their body, tho worthless now

Their integrity will never be


May angels guide their soul

gravitating them in confident joy

’til we hear the call of our Saviour


There will be an end to diabetics

The barriers of  breast cancer will be loose

where you are, no man can drown


I celebrate their inspiring lives

because they celebrated our friendship

even when I didn’t acknowledge it


I celebrate their beauty

their legacies are engraved in the sands of time

even more so when they’ll don their new aliferous bodies


The game has always been rigged

we’ve had no leverage

yet soon we share in glory, eternal


I long to see them

revere in their embrace again

as we transcend the earth and it’s long suffering




The day my boy became a phoenix

The day my boy became a Phoenix

my skin was soaked in sapphire

My  shambles   of a heart could not prevail

amidst tears and disbelief


The day my boy became a Phoenix

They gave me such a scorn

We christened him Christopher,

after his grandfather


He was inerrant in my eyes

like no Jewel I’ve ever known

This haphazard universe could not abound

the illimitable mark he had imprinted



Turns out he was neurotic after all

All  I wanted to believe

My beautiful naive poet

I’d bleed to protect till death


And thus the years flew by

I had one genuine thing to learn

When push comes to shove

Turns out we’re neurotic after all


That day was the beginning of my hellish dream.


Image: Twitter


The awakening

Most times I prefer that it become adaptable to the audience by letting you read meaning into it, but this one is personal.

We’ve had to deal with our fare share of insecurities in a way that’s unique to us. Ergo, no two war stories will ever be the same.

After a scheduled coffee date this week,  I was forced to stare at myself  in the  mirrored hall and I couldn’t help but Thank God, because I saw myself for how beautiful I truly was.

Before then I made futile attempts to not look at myself because all I saw was a grimy shadow of imperfections. I thank God for my journey thus far. I thank him for the courage to love myself the way he intended.



Don’t look at me

for I wear shame like a crown

worthy of thorns

worthy of scorn

worthy of everything, but mercy


The person I saw the other day

she looked back at me with vulnerability

so I mocked her for being weak

I mocked her for I knew she has much shame

exactly as much as I have


In the day time I yearn for worthiness

the worth of love and belonging

An impression I never fanthomed

the abyss that leaves me empty and dry

Drowning in a sardonic rash 


And I searched for it in her

for forthnights and moonsons

for decades and eras

for milleniums and eons

till I was emptier and drier


It drove me crazy

For in many men the courage  existed

I went astray connecting deeper with her psyche

and  she had no compassion for me

just like I had none for her


So I laid there pleading

I grew numb. My teeth  bleeding

I could tell she was scared of me

but her shame kept her locked  away

in iron clad glates


In her eyes a glimmer of compassion

Her voice chocked with hope

Hope was all I needed

to reveal her courage

and rid her fear.


I began to tell her

everything she is good at

I was beginning to see it

even if the world didn’t

Yes I see it!


Then did she rise and break the fetters

I thought she would smite me

I couldn’t blame her

yet her eyes gleamed with empathy

She rescued me, like Heracles did Theseus



She cleaned me up

she took my hand

we walked together

out of the seat of witness

I have never felt worth until now


This is what vulnerability feels like

I formed ground-breaking connections

These all happened while she sat cross-legged on a  mat

chanting in deep breaths;

I am enough!




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.



A Kiss before Friday

Let’s not play this game termed desire

It tires me so

She opens her palm

and in the center of the crease

a form,

translucent, symmetrical

like the dew-drop on a rose petal.


I  just want to talk

about how I feel

I’m meant to be somewhere

next to you.

and here you are,

before me.

Maybe there is a God after all.


She glances down

her hands, quivering

perhaps shock overwhelms her,

or desire reveals itself?



Her eyes say

We yearn for the truth

in the most outrageous ways,

but her heart is beguiled

by the insidious tales

of a hopeless romantic.


She said,

Let’s get drunk on bourbon

and share a kiss before Friday,

sway with me around the courthouse

like it’s nobody’s business.

Our voices echo

a tone of youthful promises.



The dance steps of the performer she knew

became the footprints of a stranger

At least we agree

that to love a stranger is one thing

but to live with them is another.










that is the shattering

of a tempest soul

when it broke,

I realised

that these wall around me

is not distance,

they are covert shields

encasing me.



Although now,

I see I made an erroneous conclusion.

The guardian became the prisoner.

I banged my fist,

vér trickled down my elbow.

my shield now my prison.


My heart rebleeds

and I tremble.

Not in fear, but anguish.

This bitter taste I cannot

bear to gobble down.


I’ve lost touch with

the world.

Buoyed on an endless river

of silence and nothingness.



only to serve my desires.


only to the sound of the sweeping air.

I’ve tried to claw my way

through dirt and mire

to survive the way I think

I once remembered

but maybe  it is

a memory


by me.


Raindrops on this crusted mineral.


beneath my feet.

If I scream now,

no one will hear

If I scream now,

no words will come out

So I curled up in a dome

my only companion,

the muffled wisps of my breath


can you hear it?






Love is when you go along with her outlandish psyche

Not because you’re gullible,

Because you like how her brown eyes lit up

So complacently

when she has her way.



Love is a fragrance so subtle and unique

It trails you,

and it rewards you

by revealing its depth to you

To love is to surrender pride.



For millennium to come

As long as the tide ebbs

Farther than the eyes can behold

Your love for me flourish.



I abide by it,

The conjectural element that eludes even the astute.

My pulse grows rapid

my dry skin dampens

my breath is foggy

my stomach tightens

An unwritten enigmatic rule



Dine with me

Let us lay in the meadow

And gaze skywards

As clouds morph

Into animation characters

Let my wandering fingers rake

Through your brown mane.




A grasshopper chirps

Owls hoot

Dusk dawns on us

A desert storm billows through

Queer sensations lingers in my loins

A dallying experience confronts us.




Love is like a flight

From Nigeria to Budapest perhaps, it’s long and uneasy.

A higher altitudes cause more wear and tension

But the journey is more bewildering

than the destination.


My Ugly Notebook

This is where I scribble my fascinations.

I go to it when I’m terrified,

and when I need to confess my truest desires.

It rescues me when I fall,

yet plunges me into lucid hazes

I so fondly wish to not wake up from.

It holds onto my hand while coaxing me

to look into the eyes of terror until it quivers like a smitten kitten

and succumbs to my will.


It’s lustrous red cover seals words inked in secrecy,

and bound in confidentiality.

It deciphers my lingo

It understands my agony

My ugly notebook is what keeps me warm on midsummer’s night

and hugs me dearly so I feel my heart palpate through its pages.

Within it, I could procrastinate forever.

I can confide in the unrefined calligraphy

signed by your’s truly.



My ugly notebook is the expression of myself

as an entity, bold. Unfazed

It nurtures my zeal and unburdens my spirit

so that I am light,

resting in the comfort of my words,

indulging in quests I wouldn’t normally

yield to with my eyes open.



This is home. It is  disorderly and messy,

but it is home.

Once in a while,

I find inspiration in these pages

and even more, I find healing.

The things I may never be able to say,

I find zenitude.


My ugly notebook is my fortress of hope in the midst of shadow chasers

It calms my turmoil soul when songs of sorrows escape into the wind,

keeping me engaged in profound chatter

so that I may not think of the dangers I struggle to overcome

in Amphetamine city.

As I plunge into the deep blues to confront my reflection.

It adjusts my gaze to the sunset on Chloé

causing fire & blood to blend into a rare hue of indigo

in order to kill the beast that is the banshee.



My ugly notebook is Alexander.