Monday, 30 November 2015


Let us talk old lover,
of our love that went sour
like fermented palmwine, or wine 
ladden thick with vinegar
as old white shirts turn yellow with age, 
or like the swirl of mighty water
poured down a little cup
till all that's left is a trickle
narrowing slowly like a funnel's end.

You were first a neighbour
young, innocent and naive.
I liked you then in a strange way
while sharing bed with a friend to your friend.
You wouldn't touch me with ten-foot pole,
men of my ilk scares you
virtue-thieves you tagged me
but for my mind and know-how
I would to you be useless.

Years and years down the lane
we met again as fate would will it
from a phone call to several of same
end-to-end till your guard I lowered
you liked me for what I stood for
but now that you've grown,
I'm too boring to be your type

I met family, I met friends
memories of night spent together
you and I and your blood.
It took months and months 
then you really started to warm up
by then an old flame was kindling
I could see your fire for me
building and growing
but alas at last
my kindling flame is now a roaring furnace

Now that you're starting to love me like it's your life force
I've packed my bags, ready to go
sorry if today I break your heart
but if with you I take the journey
our boat will take in water and someday capsize
for my heart you long to have
belongs to her who knows it not
how much it's worth to you.
Goodbye old lover...

Friday, 6 November 2015


She is in dire needs of your votes at this Etisalat Prize for literature. Please help us out.
 Here is the link:

Saturday, 15 August 2015


We are two,a two that is one
one of a kind, two of a one.
As you are the female me,
I'm the male you
two of a one, one of a kind.

Great things comes in pairs
two in one, one in two
I'm the left to your right
you're the right to my left
or is it vice-versa?
None can have it better
'cos one in two is two in one.

Seeing your smile that first time
I knew you were 'the' one
one of the two that's now our one.
The complete half of you's me,
and you's a complete one,
the other half to our one
You is me and me, you
a two that is one, a you and a me.

Two sides comes each coin.
And If life were one,
you and I, stuck on either sides.
We'll still be a one
yet we'll be two.
The only two types of a one
the only one of the two.

You and I, Akanke
Two of a one, one of a two
living proof of Cupid's expertise
his bow and arrow, shot once, got us two.
You are me my love, I'm you still
and if this were some love story
we'll be the both sides of the story.
The other me is you, the other you is me
with our love, seamlessly fusing
two now is one, one now is us two.


Saturday, 6 June 2015


Come let's take the walk
down the left corner dark
there we'll lay and watch the stars
it's a breezy night but I'll warm you
I'll cover your body with mine
your lips will envelop all I have
as sighs escape the other
the soft breeze will ruffle your hair
caress our skins, goose pimples

When sated and spent we stare up
arms, limbs and heart all linked
seeing the stars winking in mischief
a welcome voyeur
breath will escape us in pants
as our hearts slowly lose its speed
both clothed in birthsuits and uncaring
then I'll ask you again
on bent knees.

The moon will catch the glint of the jewel
and just when you say a breathless yes
the winds will nudge the trees
they'll sway hither and thither
their leaves will rustle in encouragement
and the heaven will snap us a shot
with a flash of lightening...
Will you not come?


Friday, 17 April 2015


Now we hate, now we kill
cockroaches, vermins and all
dirty dirty rank ‘n’ file
kill ‘em all
rid us all of foul air.

Spare us the sermon
your condemnation fuels our engines
Durban is ours
save your lives and go back home
rid us all of your foul air.

We are blood-thirsty
this land is our life-blood
go home and live to tell
stay here and live to die
rid us please of your foul air.

Not today we won’t stop
tomorrow maybe if sanity comes back
our ample waists cannot go bare
for your own waists to wear our beads
go now so we breathe easier.

Fair skin or dark skin
caucasian or negro
this South nation is ours alone
we have done it before
we can do it again…




We were different people
not where we are today
our songs rang with harmony
fair haven, beating hearts.
just before the sun went out
right when the words tumbled out
the world lost shape too
a journey of no return

Go, see the trees
stripped of cover and leaves
nude branches bathed in nothing
that’s where we now are
with you went the sun
the warmth that clothes my naked frame
air seeped out, punctured tubes
empty minds, blank thoughts…


Friday, 27 March 2015



Fellow Nigerians, the much anticipated March 28, 2015 is few hours away. Few times have we had periods that have dire effect on the destiny of a nation, of the Nigerian people as much as this date. However, I dare to say things need not become as heated as it is.

If you are in the Northern part of Nigeria, you’ll be amazed at the exodus out of this zone by natives of other tribes and I do not blame them at all, the events that greeted the election results after 2011 is why we are here. This country is undoubtedly a blessed nation, but our blessing is almost if not totally our curse. Nigeria must be the only country in the universe with so much un-actualised potentials. And this is sad. Very sad.

Frankly, I don’t see why things should get this bad if as a nation we have always had our priorities right. Alas we never have been able to manage this small feat and we have certainly not been helped by the kinds of leaders we have been having for nearly over 4 decades.

Friday, 20 March 2015


Moneria is a disease. A widespread disease.

It is global in its spread.
It afflicts just everyone I know. People I have never met and will never meet are not spared. It is such a potent ailment. It is not a small somtin oh, because the young suffers from it, the old have suffered and are still suffering from it sef. Should you care to know, even me, I wallow in it. I am one of its prime candidates. This Moneria has shown me pepper.
You still don’t know this disease? 
Alright oh, let’s go.
I invite you to follow me on this journey, by the time I finish describing Moneria, you’ll see you’ve for long been under its clutches.

When we were younger, we discovered that in the seed of a mango, there is usually an insect. We’ll lick the juicy mango till the seed is as white as anything you can imagine. Then we’ll set to the task of opening it up carefully and trapping the poor unsuspecting insect in a transparent nylon. Trust me, if you are able to successfully do this, you’ll be held in high regard for very few of us was able to achieve that aim. Did I hear you say we were jobless? I don’t blame you, those were some of the ‘trips’ we caught as young ‘uns because of course the onus was on us to find entertainment for ourselves not like the present time when internet, videos games and the sorts are plenty. If you were born in the 80s or perhaps very early 90s, you can relate very well. You see now, I’m digressing too much from my story.
As I was saying jare, even then we always wondered how the insect finds its way inside the mango. Till today, grown as I am, I still can’t unravel this mystery. You see, just like the mango seedling/insect analogy, so does Moneria disease apply to all human race, tribe, gender, religion notwithstanding. We are all born with it.
You’re still with me? Thank you jare. 
This Moneria disease is a very cunning ailment. It cannot be diagnosed by any doctor no matter his/her credentials and it defies any cure. However, depending on its level of affliction in someone’s life, it can quickly run its course.
In my experience anyway, most times, it is in the old and weak that you find Moneria symptoms near inexistent; in those kinds of people it has probably ran it course. 
Moneria disease can kill but it does that in a clever way too. It does not have the power to snuff out life, but it can cause the afflicted to willingly press a self-destruct button. It is a very unique disease I tell you.
You see my friend, Moneria disease is why you go to school and it is why you pursue with alacrity that high paying job. Although I earlier stated that it is a disease that afflicts every human, some people are more readily predisposed to its influences than some. They are the kind genetically wired to suffer more from this disease and this is just why some people suffer more from it. It is ironical but we live for it, it lives in us. Did I mention that Moneria is very powerful? It can cause quarrel between father and mother, husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, Pastor and church members, between friends, between siblings, colleagues… in fact, the list is endless.

Wait oh, if by now, you still don’t understand what Moneria disease is, then your case is probably worse than mine. Moneria disease has finished you. I will help you don’t worry. As long as you are in need of money for whatever reasons you conjured up, you are suffering from Moneria disease abeg. 



I remember that day
distant, yet near at once
it was colder than a dog’s snout
chilly even
you smiled at me, called my name
sweetened tilt from honeyed lips
and suddenly I became warm.

It was easy to love you
between the touch of your love
the whispered vows in heated gazes
words that tumbled between escaping sighs
I fell into the stream
drowning happily
like backstreet boys

I didn’t see it coming
I stab I can endure
a plunge into the back, no one can
I writhe in agony
as life slowly ebbed away
robbed of my heart and care.



The stealthy flow of the tide
turpsy and turpsy curves
tilting here and there
measuring time and yield

Everyone with two accounts
one filled, one empty
time and yield

Like hour-glass it runs
time employed or not
its yield shall grow voice and speak
the strange metre of life

The run cannot be paused
its hands cannot be stilled
it runs its course… 

Friday, 6 February 2015


The circle is near completion
the path to our huts is now well trod
our walls wear their smiling faces
they looks so good
their words looks good too
but we know better
suddenly we’ve become friends
it happens every time they need us
here they are knocking our doors
they come in flowing raiments
our rags barely hide our bums
as usual, bearing smiles and gifts.

Last time they were here
they preached the gospel- CHANGE
effortlessly, promises jumped down their lips
if we didn’t know better
we would have been taken in
in our hunger they fed fat
its four years already,
they want four more
now they are back knocking
with foods, money with promises
of change change change like conductors
haggling with passengers  in a lagos bus.

Last time one of our friends had no shoes
our sympathy we freely gave
in addition to the luck he’s had
and down the lane is a sorry sight
a sad tale of a lost people
last time,
our friend the Khaki man lost the polls
in holy tears and bitter anger
he made us promises of chaos
and for years after his words
by the day the death toll increases
some bombed, some kidnapped
but he has braved the elements
‘cos today he’s here again
like a chameleon in a different colour
he’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing
a sad tale of lost people.   

Monday, 2 February 2015


I am hardly who you can call a night-crawler. The few things that keep me out at night would be hanging out with friends or days of Champion’s League football matches. However these days, the urge to stay indoors at night is more pronounced. It is because election time is here again.
Election is hardly a friend to the Nigerian masses and yours sincerely is one. It is a time characterized with perpetration of several heinous acts. Need I say that hooliganism and thuggery becomes amplified, vandalism and destruction of properties tends to happen especially between supporters of opposition parties, ritualistic killings also become very common. It is therefore not wrong to say that strange things happen a lot in election time in Nigeria.
Sometime in 2012, I escaped a kidnapping attempt. I was final year student in University of Benin and it was few days from Edo state gubernatorial elections. I escaped that day partly owing to my vigilance and all the learning I picked up from the street while growing up. Most of my hostel mates were praising my ‘sharpness’ when I narrated the event but frankly speaking I believe it was my mother’s prayers that stood me in good stead. Many a person weren’t so lucky and they became victim of election period.   I often wondered what would have happened if the road was not too busy for the driver to pull off in acceleration as he wanted to do or if the central lock had not made a loud ‘wack’ as it was activated but I am grateful to God I am here to tell the tale.
It is often alleged, most politician indulge in fetish activities to secure the mandate of their people. It is always in the rumours of the steep prices they pay to achieve their ambitions.
So when you feel like going out someplace and you will be returning too late in the night, please be watchful and be careful. If need be, pass the night at your destination. Elections is less than two weeks away and less than savoury events tends to unfold and many a citizen could go missing again.


Thursday, 29 January 2015


Looking at the night sky
stars winking in mischief, crickets chirping
lounging by the patio
dipping my cup into your memories
drinking my fill
beside me, ripen buds.

A scent wafts, your scent
purple petals, juicy nectars  
here I hear the jangling goblets
of that night before you left
under the covering of the night sky
we bared our heart and limbs

Come back to me Eniti okan mi yan
sing once more with me the lovers song
so I can watch the curve of your lips
reminiscence of our last kiss
the last time we made magic
before things fell apart.

ENITI OKAN MI YAN-The one my heart has chosen 

Pictures courtesy

Monday, 26 January 2015


Shall we speak again
that they may hear?
Shall we heap our spite?
Perhaps they’ll hear and fear,
they who auction our future.
Handed down from fathers to sons
like playthings that lacked its own will
end to end, in circles chasing tails.

Or shall we just sing again
that they may hear?
Shall we go on our knees in prayers?
and sing for them verses for their doom
that in the house of five, five be dead
and one more be dying, till their air
is riddled with rot for smell.

I say we sing again
on one knee we’ll say the lines
bearing headless cockerel spurting blood
that not one of them shall remain
no internment, no gravestones
if swollen on food meant for all,
then swollen in death, filth to filth.


Wednesday, 21 January 2015


Dear Sir,
Compliments of the season to you sir. How is the presidential campaign going?
Sir, I commend your tenacity and undying commitment to serving your people. Such display of courage and determination is born of stuffs of legends and brings readily to mind the erstwhile president of the United States of America famed to have lost eight elections before he emerged as the president eventually. I am sure his name has already crept into your thoughts sir but for avoidance of doubt, he is no other than Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of America. His persistence knew no bounds. But sir, you cannot but agree with me that you do not have enough years left to break his record. Furthermore sir, between you and me, it is really nothing worthy of emulation. It is usually better to bow out when the ovation is loudest. But then who am I to dare suggest you were trying to emulate him?

Monday, 19 January 2015


His Excellency
Happy new year to you Mr. President. I trust it met you in high spirits like it met me.
I promised myself a long time ago to write you sir but I am happy it took me this long to fulfill this promise as it could not have come at a more propitious time because as we both know sir; you are busy trying to get re-elected. Permit me to state sir, that I encourage you to seek the mandate of the Nigerian people once more, the past six years haven’t been so easy, everyone can see you need four more years in order to set aright the very few anomalies that has bedeviled your administration. I would likely do the same too if I were in your shoes so I appreciate that you took a little time out of your schedule to read this short letter of mine to you sir.
Your name sir is a peculiar one and I am sure you have been told that times too numerous for count. But sir, I hope you are as concerned as I am that lady luck may be cheating on you as she seems to be ready to elope with someone else. Perhaps it’s time you wore a new look and hone your wooing skills yet again before the situation readily defies redemption.
Let me state for the record sir that I am anti-PDP. However, let not your nose wrinkle in disgust as yet, should you care to know sir, I am also anti-APC/ACN/AC/ANPP. I will let you in on why sir, Nigerian political parties are denude of party ideals. Hardly can one be differentiated from the other, nor the players in the arena. For some of us watching from outside, there is little distinction between a bug and a roach which includes their relative sizes. Some of the common features they share is that they are both dirty insect, pests, harbingers of discomfort, they favour operating in darkness and are harmful to human existence and health. The analogy immediate above bears much in semblance with the various political parties in Nigeria hence the reason why shifting camp comes relatively easy and is actually encouraged.

Sunday, 18 January 2015


It’s time for bed
I’m holding my pillows close
memories flood my thoughts
of you lounging and evading my gaze
smiles dancing in the corners of your lips
watching you try hard to ignore them.

My hand touched yours
you shifted yours away
and then I know
you could feel the currents too.

I remember my glimpse into paradise
when on my lips yours were fixed
and it was that time
I noticed my heart beating together with yours
thumping in rhythm
it became clear I’m stuck.

That time your head lies on my chest
when pleasant sigh escaped your lips
I felt it too
as contentment seeped into our bones
dreams coming true.

Vivid memories won’t stop dancing
wriggling in abandon through my thoughts
born of your lingering essence
left on my pillows
and here I am , sinking delightfully into it.

Pictures courtesy of

Friday, 16 January 2015


We were flowers at our prime,
our scent wafts around,
the songs we could sing ,
the harmony of our shores,
the ease of our world.

The grim reapers came calling,
their sickle shine brilliantly
it flashed only once
and its shine became dulled by our juices.

Some were budding flowers
the pregnant were not spared
our nursery lost its glamour
story of land razed to ground
from the shores of our land

When you see our Jona
tell him he’s done us well
when you see our turbaned lords
tell them our voice is gone
and no more will it ever be heard.

Pictures  Courtesy of

Monday, 12 January 2015


The time is nigh
the gods will make music again
each time,four years apart
its time to dance and/or be gored.

The gods will drum again
music of the deadly feral gong
filth to filth; death to death
the clock-hand draws closer.

Different twists goes the rhythm
some to death in rallies
some to death by assassins
some to the end by rituals.

Four seasons ago they struck their sounds
their drums resonating
from the East of the Northern shores
blown to bits, one after the other.

Last time the gods had their party
children were stolen from the huts
sold to slavery, sold to sex
from the hills the staccato rings.

The gods are wont to drumming
and drum they shall
listen not to the poisonous symphony
lest you be stung or worse.

Of what use is a warning
when fate has wooed ill for some
they hide not from the resonating pulse
in that, they condemn more to mourning.

The gods are making their drums
it never announces for good
and if heed is not taken
at the next s-election, the gods will drum again.


Wednesday, 7 January 2015


Its the 86th thursday
again I get to drink-in the sight of you
and see again the sparkle of your teeth
when you smile across the table at him.

Every thursday I wonder what he says
that brings that glitter into your eyes
and the laughter pealing boundlessly from those lips.

I’m green with envy

Take your eyes off him for a minute
bless my face with your stare
smile again towards me
I’m always at door duty every thursday.

That will do me just fine
till thursday is here again.

HAPPY 2015!

This is to wish everyone here a Happy New Year.
Wishing you a greater year than the last on all fronts.
We apologise this is coming a bit delayed...