NAIJA BLOG

 How you waited for the day where you could see the sun rising across the Bight of Benin oh Cudjoe the fear and dread of the fateful day, where the women of Dahomey captured and sole you wrenching you from your sourc remained a torment till your death. Oh Cudjoe, your life was spent in limbo in a place you did not understand in life, you did not wish to have everything was in expectation of going home. You wore the clothes that were not yours you bore a name that was not yours Cudoe, in death, you were reunited  and your mother would call you olu...and you would run with your three brothers and two sisters to feel your mother's warmth. 

 Creator or Destroyer, Ideation, Escapism, or Repression? Imagination, Malevolent or Benovolent  You  destroy whom you  or create what you destroy, Stuck between the vortex of your clutch Amidst the Sisyphean trudge towards creation or immobility Imagination, my foe, my friend

 God why have you fated me for pain the pain of the abandoned the pain of the unrequited  the pain of thee rejected and ostracised the pain of the grieving the pain of the anguish Oh God why do you demand love in a heart and has been colored with grief why do you seek adoration in eyes that have seen so much why do you demand enthusiasm from a heart that has been sick God why do you demand so much  from a life that has been given pain? not ingratitude to seek solace from you iTs not sinful to question the action from the written it's not wrong to ask why from the silent sky and  curl and know there will never be answers  I don't sin knowing you will be silent I don't believe knowing you take what you take and leave e that hope is foolish, cynicism is real. Silent God, every watching in judgment for this sick heart to turn. you flood me with memories of blessings I cry in pain ever sure of your silence... I see your justice sometimes and your injustice all the time massacred

 Oh age..  you tamer of mind cutter of wit destroyer of dreams how did you catch me in your grasp I, the butterfly so sure so sound now full of pauses  and words unsaid, fear and terror Age, you weaken the bones you weaken the spirit and the soul is left vacuum of dreams and denial

You know me but you dont, i am the butterfly that flutters and rests on your cheek, then fades away when you seek. I am the loyal friend, the sweetest heart, the raging bull whose tongue is a sharp tool. Ying and Yang, darkness and light, cosmic flow of illusion, constant check of reality. Conformity my demise, stagnation my death the chameleon, mustang, or the zebra, ever-changing,never tamed. what mask will I wear? Will my mood fall heavy today and will I spin heavy , a dark cloud, causing chaos like a tornado Will I be the bright sky, chirping bird, easy laugh? My soul the unending battleground, between good and evil,Gemini yes,bipolar, maybe My despair inspires, my euphoria enlightens, i am who i am, straight talking, slick tongued, brutal, kind, fleet footed messenger of mercury

 You who lived too much, unrestrained by life's  pleasures  so you sough and sought the dragon's tail Belle and Beauty, so they stood bowed in awe entrapped in your laughter, helpess in desire you were destroyer and builder no one could compete with your beauty and charm, humour and zest your were adored by all. You were the party that never ended, long after everyone had gone home Beauty expires, looks fades you did not realise when the winds changed you strode into middle age, unstabled and untamed  unable to change, rejecting those who loved you for the thrill of the chase you were the the flame that destroyed all close to it so we learned to stay far from where we would not be razed. Oh VV  who could not know when to stop the pursuit of pleasure  dying alone, oh what a tragic fate 

 Underneath the wide streets and stone-coated roofs lies a nation watered in blood. Beneath the terminal leaders clawing into the soft folds of power, lies a gluttonous lust to destroy the body and soul. O numerous dead, slaughtered in Kano, Asaba, Benue your voices still cry to the archangels, Michael, Rapheal, Ariel,  why the silence. Killers who roamed free in the dawn of their youth now are forcefully humbled by the pain of age you too will fade away or will be destroyed by the cries of the souls who haunt your empty souls.

 I remember the house at West End  that harboured me in my teenage years close to the Hospital, farther down Video Mars Where the effeminate  guy would look at us with joy because our eyes were pure and where he would look at us in despair when he saw that we now knew WEST END  Where we could only dream of the time we would get the perms at the Black and White Supermarket and the buses would drive from Baga Road to Costain next to us was the Chadian Embassy with the Chadian with the saddest crush  and the trees with the sweetest guavas. I remember walking down to Video Mars renting the latest Blockbusters and Bala would drop by, and we would talk about Chase and other books Books were the escape from the dreariness of the mundane  I remember the house at West End with its white gates and falling leaves A past I detested,  A past I long for

 Crush, Friend, soulmate who loved me deeply thn, when I was a belle, now as I age I look back and wonder what the world would have been  You who was always conscious  full of sadness, full of love who  held on, fo years on years you who lost your faith in God fo the sadness you got. Forgive me, I always felt unworthy and I needed to grow from the shadow of the past which was filled of pain, class wars, and torment  to grow I look back sometimes and hope you found the peace I failed to give.

 Jack Boy, valiant and courageous, they said Immaculately towing the line talking the talk and walking the walk Jack Boy who fought for the horror we live in and we will die in. The feminicide, and patricide, the horror of the mob who bay for blood every eve,  the knowledge of permanent hostility of the backward and irate destined to engulf all in its deathly grasp Jack who stood tall and brave on the backs of children ravaged by Beriberi, Kwashiorkor and Marasmus children staked by vultures waiting to gouge out their little yes All is fair in war ...they said, impeccably  Jack Boy, articulately watching hordes perishing under you  Now you thrive in silence, the silence of the fool the silence of the quilt It's another bloody day in the land of your birth I await you cry in agony in the dawn of the massacre but you remain stoic as you lick the fruits of your judgment

We build monuments to ourselves in tombs and castles, in power and domination in the routine and the preternatural through science and in fiction, through our breed and our kin or by immortalizing words on the sand of time Monuments for those who come behind impatient to learn how we lived or learn from what we saw  ready to build monuments for themselves 

 Fate is cruel to dogs who disintegrate before our eyes Jezza, of the soulful eyes and wagging tail agreeable and human I feel your love so deep and so pure but was too busy living too busy doing too busy thinking too busy existing  to reciprocate Now your days are few  and guilt overwhelms  Jezza dying before me,  broken teeth, and falling  hair my tawny basenji breed who diminishes daily before my eyes 

  Marble floors,shiny mall Young black men in love with fat white women, in love with old white women little girls tiny waists oozing sex,selling sex old fat men, bulging tummies oozing cash, spending cash bored bland faces like ebony masks watchful eyes wagging tongues, everyone is here, showing off, eating junk in plastic cups showing off jaded knowing all, feeling stuffed. falling deep. thousand yard stare