NAIJA BLOG

 How could I loathe what sustains me and how could what sustains me, destroy me every thought at a time, every minute of the day the labour is not hard very easy it is the wanderers, who have made the vortex their God and destroy all whom fall upon their covetous eyes the vortex of hell is full of slanderers, the lazy, and backbiters the opportunists, the bitter and evil. The gossip and envious, all who cannot bear to see the pure... you have to die to live in this vortex of nothingness 

 You pushed her away when her hands were tiny and wanted to cup your face, when her eyes sought answers and love within your eyes. you pushed her away when she needed the hugs that would shield her from the fearsome world and  laughing peers  she sought your hands to hold her and tell her all was well, you were never found you told her her younger ones were prettier and better, so she became anxious and sought solace in peers and moved rootlessly, like a nomadic fulani during the rainy season.  She never knew your hugs, just your beatings she never saw you smile, just your mockery she sought for mothers in strangers and fathers in lovers but they all failed she fought to live and won and now you want to hug her and she recoils  now you want to talk and she shuts herself from you now you want the woman after killing the girl She will always be the little lost girl, all alone, trying to find her way in the scary world

In these depths of despair amidst the sadness of the soul I reach into my bank of pain and shudder at the calamity and the sadness these sorrow never cease they evolve into mutant despair worse than its original, less than its post-mutated version I can't help myself no one can. With no hope I disappear into a world of noise that fill me up and lets me live in the silence of my thoughts My bank of pain is full

 The revealer, arbiter, leveler of time you fall heavily, softly, slowly, you fall on us all we are all allotted portions of your rare gifts,  careful portions, spaces that seem to spawn and seem so small we crawl and walk, some do not and fade we walk and talk , but that portion is denied to orders we talk and comprehend, while others fly into the abyss of the void we know, grow and blossom, beautiful and strong, we think and worry  we worry and accept the fates, some broken, some fiery, some weary and jaded we see the signs of the passing days, on our faces, on our hair, in the eyes of children, who start the same circle, we wait and rest, our weary bones, tired legs and long for days of the past. our deaths are the comeuppance of living, we spent out time 

 I immortalize you , using this divine gift to solidify your names Ada, my voice was lost in the wilderness of despair, when I welcomed you, you were defiant, a fighter,  who fought to stay, fought to be heard, your defiance made me strong and pushed me from my despair quick to anger, quick to love Ada, I am lost in you, your spirit, and your eyes,  you fight for your place, brave and unafraid I am not afraid of your survival in a world of treachery, you were born of this world, to twist it and turn it, till it bent for you. Your path may be hard, but you are harder, you lead the pack, you will make them cry, you will be the head of the gang, fierce, determined, and strong,  you know already how the world works, you cry at will and fight for peace. Ada, my warrior princess, daughter of wealth, may wealth find you, in body and soul Chinedu My firstborn child, Born in the bliss of false hope,  you taught me that love was unconditional,  your eyes smile, your ...

 Her eyes are the dark pools of forever they are paradise and beauty and make you sink and lose yourself in their promise you are  helpless, you want to be you could pull yourself from the depth of their wealth and wonder if you would find the gold buried at the end of the promise, you the eternal adventurer  were born to seek, born to find eternity in everything  they give you life and are incomparable to the anxious eyes that meet you trustingly, longingly when you return eyes that know without knowing, eyes that cry without crying, eyes that know the time is coming to be hopeless, eyes that find her answers in  the innocence of her seed,  eyes that have died waiting for you to revive them you despise those eyes, dry and weary,  the hand that rubs the forehead in despair,  you break and break the feeble soul enamored with your words,  deadly words, poisonous words  yet they find some antidote in the poison, sighing in relief because it...

Will the street flow with blood today in response to the annual Shite's March, to add to mounds of dead, that feed the ground , planted in death.   We become dehumanized by death we  will all die one day we say, as we watch the horrors with tired eyelids, Institutionalised.   Our leaders sit on the blood-drenched gilded throne guarded by murderers and afraid of their crimes of their eyes of the children that wander aimlessly on the streets.   The throne protects them from their crimes of greed, death of theft,  they rule corpulent, plotting and  scheming, to save themselves from death and pain, death and pain will come to them not swiftly  but surely.   Fresh piles are dug for the pregnant woman ripped to death, her fetus taken the young child butchered the farmer killed they die, we watch suspended in fear, lobotomized in terror.   While the enforcers of the bloodbath come to us in white dripping slurry speeches tinged with discord and divis...