muse...and more

Coming up for air.

2011-11-16T09:42:00.000-08:00

Hey y'all! I know, I know. It's been quite a while since I wrote something (4 months actually), and I don't have any excuse, smart or otherwise for my absence. Oh, wait...work! Not good enough? I know.

Today, I'm putting up a poem I wrote some time ago - a little over one year, actually. It's a poem that with the challenges I've had to face over time. It is a poem that makes a statement of defiance, as well as a poem of encouragement. I hope you like it. I hope it speaks to you. Above all, I hope it makes you see a glimmer of hope in a darkened sky.

Enjoy.

Untitled.
Just before the dawn of night,
Show me again that ray of light;
The wishing star, the wondrous sight
Of silver lining in the night.

Of hope, near broke, but standing still;
Of will more firm than bars of steel,
Of a life though gone will never kneel
To death, but soars in liberty.

Sing once more of a heart made sure
By faith, though sense may ask for more
Sing again of faith and how she bore
The saviour we all adore

Sing of life, sing more of death
To flesh and all that is this earth
Sing of God and how His breath
Is more than gold, is true life’s wealth!

22/10/2010

WAKApedia

2011-07-07T03:09:00.000-07:00

So, on one of those days when my mind went a-straying - as it normally does - it stumbled upon the idea that perhaps, providing en-route entertainment for commuters on the BRT system wouldn't be so bad after all. This got me thinking about the many possibilities this opportunity could spawn. How do you do something that is at once engaging and relevant, 'revolutionalising' the way people travel? How do you get people to buy in? How do you start? How do you sustain such an idea, especially with very limited resources?

A couple of months later, and after many discussions and informal brain-storming sessions, I am proud and pleased to announce that WAKApedia, a collection of blogs from Bloggers like you and I is now available on select BRT routes in Lagos.

A lot of work, thoughts and eotions have gone into this work, and I want to say a special thanks - this is by no means an exhaustive list - to those who have made this possible: Nonye for being there through the ups and the downs, Mage for being one heck of an editor, Mazi for being the best go-to-guy and Business Director ever, Ahmed for his hustle, Fred for his belief in us, Myne Whitman for her Naija Stories contribution (waiting on you for more), Incoherent for her contagious enthusiasm, Freaksho for always being there for a chat and a post and a host of others too numerous to mention.

Now please go to www.wakapedianaija.com where you can read some of the articles from the three editions out so far. Also leave a comment or two if you may. There's also the Facebook page for you to like and leave comments on as well. You can also follow us on Twitter . Most of all, however, you can send us an article or ten for the Blogpaper. You never can tell who might be reading!

Okay, so that's me and what we've been up to this past couple of months. Like I've been praying this year, may God bless our hustle, each and every one!

Muse.

2011-06-28T02:17:00.000-07:00

Random thoughts on a Monday morning.

2011-06-20T04:08:00.001-07:00

A colleague of mine's in some sort of dilemma. Although we've spent a better part of the morning laughing about it, it is in no way funny. I should know, I have been there. The matter at hand? His wife, a staff of one of those 'New Generation' banks, has been mandated along with her other colleagues to meet a target of opening at least 8,000 accounts by December 2011. Now who's laughing? Not me. Not you, I hope.

But it's crazy. How in God's name did we get to this sorry state where banks have become more of a slave master and less of a professional, respectable financial institution? Methinks that if you want to have a better understanding of the 'almajiri' system in Northern Nigeria, all you have to do is work in a bank for a few months as a 'Relationship Manager' a.k.a marketer. #justsayin

This week, I pray that God will grant us all the desire of our heart, and that He'll give us the sort of job we all can enjoy. I pray that above all else, He'll give us peace in our different places of work. Lord knows we need it. With all the news of people dying right, left and centre, the least we can do is enjoy our work, nay, life before we go.

Have a great week people. May God grant us our heart' desires. And for the love of our friendship, visit www.facebook.com/wakapedianaija and lemme know what you think!

PS: Yes, I had to put a poem....or two. Enjoy.

Untitled.
Night has come
As quick as morn
But there’s no need to mourn.
For the evening sun
Is a shining star
To him who’s life’s begun.

So dry your eyes
Tis all but lies
That which this life denies.
These gloomy skies
Shall shine as day
A blessing in disguise.
27/01/2010.

Untitled.
Just before the dawn of night,
Show me again that ray of light;
The wishing star, the wondrous sight
Of silver lining in the night.

Of hope, near broke, but standing still;
Of will more firm than bars of steel,
Of a life though gone will never kneel
To death, but soars in liberty.

Sing once more of a heart made sure
By faith, though sense may ask for more
Sing again of faith and how she bore
The saviour we all adore

Sing of life, sing more of death
To flesh and all that is this earth
Sing of God and how His breath
Is more than gold, is true life’s wealth!

22/10/2010.

Be warned; this is a lazy post...

2011-04-06T07:33:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at my desk, brain-drained and experiencing a writer's block. Add to that a bad case of 'nigerities', money-making schemes and just where I would rather be right now, then you'll understand why I've resorted to one of my favourite tricks when I can't concentrate enough to put up a proper post: poems.

Relax if yo may, as I dish out to you two poems written some tie ago for such a time as this. One of the poems is about death, but do not worry...I'm not suicidal. I just wonder at times how prepared we all are for that most certain of destinations.

I hope the poems inspire you; I hope they make you think. But most of all, I hope you like them enough to forgive me for putting up this lazy post.

Until I put up a proper post, enjoy...

UNTITLED
Just before the dawn of night,
Show me again that ray of light;
The wishing star, the wondrous sight
Of silver lining in the night.

Of hope, near broke, but standing still;
Of will more firm than bars of steel,
Of a life though gone will never kneel
To death, but soars in liberty.

Sing once more of a heart made sure
By faith, though sense may ask for more
Sing again of faith and how she bore
The saviour we all adore

Sing of life, sing more of death
To flesh and all that is this earth
Sing of God and how His breath
Is more than gold, is true life’s wealth!

The traveller.
When the reaper comes
When his cold feet clop
On the rough, stony floor
Which I lay upon
And demands I follow
Though he grin at me
Let your heart not fear
Be not in sorrow
When his fingers slide
In a cold caress
Around this limp canvas
Below my watery eyes
Be not dismayed
For I have been ready
When they reaper comes
Tell him I’ve been waiting.

One of those posts...

2011-03-08T03:34:00.000-08:00

I promise I'll put up an intelligent post one of these days. You know, a post with all the right punctuations and grammar; a post that will make you laugh or maybe cry; maybe a post that will make you think deep. Or maybe I'll just put up another poem - which really is one way to know that I've been to lazy to write.

But I'll put up an intelligent post. Okay, let's not get too excited...let me just put up a post. Skip the intelligent part. As fagged out as I am, a post will do. Someday we'll do intelligent. But not just yet.

Work. That's what gotten to me. I remember in '07 when I got into advertising, I thought "wow! This is cool...I get to wear jeans to work all week, I get to call my boss by his name, and I get to pretend the reason I turned in work late is because I'm extra smart!" Four years down the line, I'm thinking "dammit! Where the hell are my co-workers from? Why does everything have a timeline of yesterday? Why is there not much information on this brief? What lost-in-time planet do these clients come from? Bastards!" But in the end, right now, if you were to offer me a white-collar job with more pay and or asked me to continue in advertising, I'll take advertising any day!

Why? Well, when you think of the opportunities, no other industry permits you to 'think' on the job in your sleep - at the office - or have loud arguments about the human physique while your boss looks on, bring in brews of a certain kind all in the name of getting acquainted with a client's product (if you drink, that is), create a make-believe world and present them at review meetings as actual insights, play loud music all day long, or just refuse to do any work because your dog's step mom just died.

Forget it...I'll take this industry cos I doubt any other one will take me and give me the unrealistic freedom I'll demand.

On the flip side....you'll most likely sleep more in the office than in that new apartment you took a loan to pay for; you'll most likely call your partner a colleagues name in those intimate moments, because the last thing you remembered was said colleague shrieking about stabbing you in the eye for saving the wrong work on the server just an hour to the presentation; your neighbours will most likely call the police to arrest you as you sneak in to the house by 1am; your mom will tell your uncles she suspects you live under the bridge cos you're never at 'home' whenever she comes visiting; and, your boss will most definitely drive a much better car than you, leaves way earlier, and seems generally happier.

So, why am I still here? Someone told me in '08 that advertising was like a drug that sucks you in and never lets you go. I kind of agree with her. Kinda. I also think I'm here because well...me and advertising are doing just fine. I love her, and in her own twisted way, she loves me back. Let's see how this relationship goes...but for now, we're still cruising.

And yes, I'll put up that intelligent post one day.

yin, yang

2011-01-24T07:47:00.000-08:00

I haven't lived that long, but I have lived long enough. Long enough to know that that which is hot will soon get cold, or that that which goes up will come down; I have learnt that the night heralds the morn, and that every death is life reborn.

I haven't lived that long, but I have lived long enough. I have learnt, and I have forgotten. For that I am grateful. For that I rejoice. I may not have lived enough to die, but everyday I die enough that I may live. I haven't lived that long, but I have lived long enough.

Such is yin, such is yang.

Every rise gives way to a fall
As a push becomes a pull
Mountain top, valley low
A dead seed, a sprouting tree
And so the circle of life is complete
In dark and light
In flight and fight
In peace and strife
In death and life.

Such is living
Such is death
Such is yang
Such is yin
Such is the summary of all we are
That we push and we pull
We break and we mend
For there is no dark without light
No enemy without a friend

And on this lies the balance of life
We live that we may die
We stand that we may fall
We gather that we may lose
We are full that we may hunger

Such is the balance of life
Such is the summary of who we are

So when you weep little one, empty yourself
That laughter may find room enough in your belly
When you dance to the drums reserve strength
For the day comes when you will be dragged against your will

Such is our fate
Such is life
Such is yang
Such is yin

Such is heaven and earth
Such is demise
Such is birth

Every rise gives way to a fall
Every push becomes a pull
A dead seed becomes a tree
Such is life for you and me.

It’s all GOOD.

2011-01-12T07:59:00.001-08:00

It's been a while since I last wrote. I don't know why. It's not like I've not been wanting to, or that the world somehow decided to start coming to an end all around me. But for some inexplicable reason, I've just not written. For a long while. And it saddens me.

Last year was eventful. From coming back to advertising (actually at the end of the previous year) to moving agencies and then houses and getting married, it was rather lively. Sitting now to think about it, I believe I should be more grateful than I have been for the year now laid to rest. Though it had its ups and downs, it was a defining year in my life, and like the good book says, we go through fire that we may be refined as gold. If anything, 2010 was the refiner's fire.

In 2010 I made new friends, lost contact with some; I lost a very dear cousin and gained a new brother; I had issues with family, then realised that there are friends who stick closer than brothers; I reached a dead end and a way was made out of no way; old wounds were torn open, but I found solace in love; there was turmoil but I found peace. 2010 was eventful indeed, and I am sure now that it could have been no other way, for, like the Spoken Word Poet, Amir Suleiman said, 'even the beauty of birth leaves its own scars'. 2010 was eventful, but 2011 is GOOD. Very good.

And so I survived. And, if you're reading this, you did as well. For that we should be grateful to God. This may be coming late, but from the bottom of my heart, I want to wish everyone who has made it this far a very happy new year. Remember, even in some pain, there is great gain.

Welcome to the GOOD year.

Nigeria at 50 - Day 3: Rickety, raggerdy bus ride...

2010-10-02T23:29:00.001-07:00

Nigeria at 50, Day 2 - Ochuko www.ochuko.wordpress.com

In Aba, like it is all over Nigeria, the bus is the prominent mode of transport there is. Quite ordinary and single-minded in its purpose of moving people from one point to another, there is nothing exciting about this motorised metal contraption.

Well, not until you get inside.

Deadbeat and ordinary as the bus may seem, it carries within it an amalgamation of some of the most interesting characters you have ever seen. From old men with toothy smiles to women with fat behinds, from young girls sporting the latest knock-offs to young men trying very hard to outquirk even Andre 3000, there is never a shortage of dramatis personae from a bus going from, say, Ogbor Hill to Ngwa road.

Nigeria, to me, is like that bus. Weather-beaten from years of neglect, rough-ridden by numerous inept and valueless drivers, running round the same route with no apparent focus, yet carrying the most optimistic and hopeful people I have ever met.

I am one of those passengers.

I am not your average once-in-a-year patriot who remembers to wear a touch of green every October 1st in solidarity with millions of clueless fellow Nigerians who rejoice at the thought of yet another work-free day; I am not your average smile-and-wave Nigerian who is grateful that at least there’s still life, and so we must hope for a better tomorrow. No, unlike the often-times docile passengers who are thankful that at least they got on an available bus, I am the one guy who shouts at the driver to caution him when he drives a bit rough; I am that guy that will take the conductor head-on for trying to take advantage of a passenger; I am that one guy that will threaten to report the driver to his superiors if he continues to misbehave; I am that one guy who will tell my fellow passengers off for trying to take up more space than is allocated to them. Because when you think about it, if this bus were not here, we would all have to walk for miles; if it breaks down, we will all be stuck in the middle of nowhere, and if it derails while we’re all on board, we’ll all most likely be dead. So yes, I have to speak out because this bus is the only ride to where I’m going.

I wonder if there are any other passengers like me. I wonder if there are any bloggers here who, although in this raggedy bus, will not just sit down and hope to God that the driver knows what on earth he is doing, but will speak out and demand that the right thing be done, the right road signs be obeyed, the right turns taken, and the right speed limits adhered to.

This may be a tall order, but when you think about it, there’s no option. As we celebrate our 50th anniversary, I will like us to have this thought at the back of our minds: we either lend our voices and strengths to make this nation work, or you can, as is the custom in Aba buses when you reach your stop, yell at the driver “Ka opuo!”

Happy Independence day Nigeria. One day we shall all be free.

Nigeria at 50, Day 4 - Diary of a Nigerian Girl www.diaryofanigeriangal.blogspot.com

Watch this space!

2010-09-30T05:07:00.001-07:00

'Tis been 50years and the road has been quite long, join us as we celebrate Nigeria's Golden Age at oluSimeon www.simeoneomobaba.blogspot.com on 1st October, 2010.

A little piece of me...

2010-09-03T05:45:00.001-07:00

In some respect, and regarding some things, I have become somewhat of a cynic. Unlike the everlasting optimist, I do not always see the bright side of things. But unlike his ever-pessimistic counterpart, I do not always see the dark side either. On the contrary, I am that guy at the back of the room reading everyone's words and listening to their eyes. I dance in the thin line between dark and light. I make my home in that split of a second when everything is conveyed and nothing is said.

For me, the unspoken is louder than words; the deed, more eloquent than sweet serenade.

I watch more than I listen. I question every word I hear. I question every motive. And sometimes, I fall flat on my face.

It is a character flaw, I agree. However, more often than not, I find that we all have conveniently learned the art of deception so much that we become our worst victims. Hence, the optimist and pessimist lie. The idealist and the realist lie. You lie and I lie. And we're not about to stop.

What to do? Step back a bit. Look from a distant. Listen to yourself. Question more. Love more. Live more. Laugh more. We have one life, and the best we can do is to take a moment away from all the lies and take in all of the richness of life.

That, my friends, is a simple truth.

Untitled.

The sons of men

In Abassi's eyes

Lay naked

Under the noonday skies

Though covered we be

Through a mastered craft

That we do not see

For we have believed

And we now forget

What we really are

In Abassi's eyes

We are sons of men

Such is yin, such is yang.

Every rise gives way to a fall

As a push becomes a pull

Mountain top, valley low

A dead seed, a sprouting tree

And so the circle of life is complete

In dark and light

In flight and fight

In peace and strife

In death and life.

Such is living

Such is death

Such is yang

Such is yin

Such is the summary of all we are

That we push and we pull

We break and we mend

For there is no dark without light

No enemy without a friend

And on this lies the balance of life

We live that we may die

We stand that we may fall

We gather that we may lose

We are full that we may hunger

Such is the balance of life

Such is the summary of. who we are

So when you weep little one, empty yourself

That laughter may find room enough in your belly

When you dance to the drums reserve strength

For the day comes when you will be dragged against your will

Such is our fate

Such is life

Such is yang

Such is yin

Such is heaven and earth

Such is demise

Such is birth

Every rise gives way to a fall

Every push becomes a pull

A dead seed becomes a tree

Such is life for you and me.

Untitled...

2010-08-24T07:01:00.000-07:00

Change is going to come some how

Change is going to come some way

Change is going to come some day

But that day is not today

'Cos today, we are the masters of our own fate

The weavers of our own bait

Enemies at our own gate

So still we keep a date

With poverty and corruption

Unforgivable self-delusion

Confessions and absolution

With no real intention to stop

With no intention to stop

But why should you?

Your uncle is a senator

And with his fine-flowing signature

He sustains your recurrent expenditure

After all, he IS a legislator

And you know that we do not know

How much we pay to sustain him

So why should we stop?

Why should we change?

And if we should change

Why change now?

For you see,

Change may come some how

Change may come some way

Change may come some day

But that day is not today

'Cos today, we're about to come into our own

Today, we're about to sit on our throne

Power to the people – if the people are us

Ours is a government for us, by us!

So when you talk of change, know you walk alone

When the revolution comes, it will be televised

But we, we will sit at home

Critiquing, politicking, conscience cold as ice

And so

The fire of youth is deadened by the reality of truth

That we do not wish to suffer pain

Yet in us we crave for gain

But how can we eat of the fruit if we do not climb the tree?

How can we climb the tree and not scrape a knee?

And how can we scrape a knee if we do not go uncovered?

If we do not go naked; if we do not discover

That the ones we hurt

When we betray trust

That the ones who bleed

The very ones we curse

That the ones whose lives are torn away by us

Are the ones we do the worst harm – Us?

Her blood is blue...

2010-08-20T04:31:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, introducing VIOLA!

#okbye

I do this once in a while...okay, maybe more often now...

2010-08-03T03:36:00.002-07:00

Okay people, today, I'm feeling some dark vibes. So, in giving into my mood, I post here two poems I wrote some while back.

Truth be told, I love the darkness.

Seriously...I walk into a public place and instinctively go to the corner that has my back to the wall and my eyes on everyone else.

My girlfriend says I walk 'by the wall' (whatever that means).

I have a knack of looking for the crack in every armour, cos I have this view that we all speak from the point of our bias, but try to put up a pious outlook. Then again, Lauryn Hill said "Everyday, people lie to God, so what makes you think that they won't lie to you too?" Just saying.

I've found out that life is as much dark as it is bright, and that most times, they compliment each other. None is more useful or beneficial than the other.

Embrace the light people, but respect the dark.

Ok...I'm rambling.

Enjoy...

Untitled.
Night has come
As quick as morn
But there’s no need to mourn.
For the evening sun
Is a shining star
To him who’s life’s begun.

So dry your eyes
Tis all but lies
That which this life denies.
These gloomy skies
Shall shine as day
A blessing in disguise.
27/01/2010.

The traveller.
When the reaper comes
When his cold feet clop
On the rough, stony floor
Which I lay upon
And demands I follow
Though he grin at me
Let your heart not fear
Be not in sorrow
When his fingers slide
In a cold caress
Around this limp canvas
Below my watery eyes
Be not dismayed
For I have been ready
When the reaper comes
Tell him I’ve been waiting.
22\10\2005.

on freaksho, ~sirius~ and all that's under the bridge.

2010-07-08T01:59:00.000-07:00

Last week, Freaksho decided it was time to get ~Sirius~ with the rest of his life.

So he got married. Now, things are going to get ~sirius~ly freaky or freaking ~sirius~. Whichever way it works, I'm sure they'll be happy. (Ibiluv get your mind out of the gutter!).

It would have come to me as a bit of a shock, but knowing Freaksho, I doubt there's little he can do these days to surprise me - well, except he starts acting normal, that is. Ofcourse, I must add here that I was totally shocked - to say the least - when I found out that ~Sirius~ was _________ (what? you waiting for a name? free me jo!).

Anyways, here's wishin Mr. and Mrs. Freaksho a happy married life!

Now, let's talk about me.

Did I mention to you guys that I got a new job (again)? Well, this one's more fun, comes with more responsibility, a kitchen and a chill out room, which means I surely will be nibbling on a biscuit while watching the World Cup...all at work. Yeh!

Oh, and I got to meet my fav bloggers at Freaksho's wedding! Freaksho and ~Sirius~ (ofcourse), Incoherent and CaramelD. The only person missing was Ibiluv. Woulda loved to see that one (I can't wait to see what those naughty thoughts look like in person). And to think that a week (or two?) before then, I had done a shout out to all of them! Life, eh?

Vell then, here's me coming out of hibernation - I hope. Y'all have a blessed month ahead, and may all your hopes be met.

Amen.

PS: Incoherent, CaramelD, Ibiluv...though y'all don't like the question, I still have to ask (it's my blog, afterall)...when una dey marry sef? tehehehehehehehehe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shout out...

2010-06-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Freaksho, Ibiluv, Incoherent, ~Sirius~, CaramelD.

Where y'all at?

Ok. I'm done. Bye.

Boom!

2010-05-11T04:54:00.000-07:00

That’s the sound of the silence
That shatters our celebration
It’s the sound as our hearts
Fall to our bellies in trepidation
It’s the ringing in our ears
Adding music to our fears
Call your loved ones
Call your peers
The apocalypse is here
And if you’re close to God
Get on your knees and say a prayer
For the souls that will be lost tonight
Jos has gone aflare!

A village was standing here

And Kratos is an impostor, you see
The real god of war lives here
His prophets, ever near
Pouring hatred into our ears
Till we fight and kick
And bite and kill
Still the purpose is all but clear.

So boom!
Boom! Boom!
And just in case you missed it...
Watch out!
Boom!
Yet again!

Yes, boom till the coal tar is red with blood
And boom to the most high – cos we kill for the lord
And boom to the infidels who will not heed his word
And boom till the earth is washed with fire like a flood

Washed with fire like a flood
I spilled my brother’s blood
For no real offence
Just that he doesn’t speak my mother’s tongue!

For how long will this go on?
For how long must our song
Be of burial and hatred
And stanzas of violence
Until love is an empty gong?

For how long will this go on?
For how long must our song
Be devoid of love and laughter and joy
And those little things we’ve forgot?

floating...

2010-04-06T04:17:00.000-07:00

I think I’m lost. Floating perhaps. Steadily adrift in this mind-numbing sea of nothingness – an endless grey space where nothing seems to make sense, no matter how hard you try. A place where things can go from bright white to dark night without a moment’s notice, and the same thing you did yesterday is waiting for you today and tomorrow, until it snuffs whatever life you weakly cling on to.

There’s no need to count the days, for you see, time stands still here. So while a week is but a day, a month is just a year. And the more you run, the more you make holes in the ground from constantly marching in place.

Have you ever been there? Or is it here? Do you see me? Can you hear my thoughts? For while I’m lost, I may yet be found by you. And we may keep each other company as we float on. Lost. Forgotten. Alone.

Or.

We can tear our own skin and add some colour to this space. That way, they say, we will be free. But wait. Who can endure the pain?

Selah.

Opening Act...

2010-01-01T09:57:00.001-08:00

It's the first day of 2010. I ought to have something smart to say. Something deep. or intelligent perhaps. Or profound. Or maybe even funny. But I don't. My screen, save for these scribblings, is as blank as my thoughts. On this first day of the second decade in this century, I am totally thoughtless.

Maybe it's the profound (albeit sparsely noticeable) awe of being alive today, or the thoughts of how 2009 came to a favourable close. Maybe I'm at wits end trying to keep up with the pace my life seems to have suddenly taken, or even taken aback by my vehemence in speaking out about my thoughts on Nigeria's political jamboree.

As I type this, I have no profound message to share, no life-altering secrets to offer. I am just glad that today, I'm alive and lucid enough to even realize that my thoughts are blank. That in itself is enough to make me speechless.

It is the first day of 2010. I have nothing smart to say, but everything to be grateful for.

Happy New Year Blogsville!

Get out of my head...

2009-11-20T08:22:00.000-08:00

How many of y’all would write a poetry book? Seriously. I’m putting my manuscript together for the book which has been in the works since God knows when.

But first I need a printer. And money. Never forget that. Money is important. Talking with a colleague sometime last week revived this dream I've had for a long time, so I decided to finally do something about it. Like we all know, dreams are just dreams until we do something about them. So it's off the drawing board for me, and deep into the trenches!

Like Billy Ocean said, "Get out of my head and into my car!"

Anyhoos, since I have nothing particularly important to blog about, I leave you with yet another poem...hopefully, it should make it to the final stuff.

You’ll buy my book right? Right?

Have yourself a lovely weekend.

Untitled.
Joy knows no bound,
As sorrow, no foreign ground.
Pleasure lives by tears,
Like draught in happy years.
Light and darkness take
Turns, day and night to make;
Songs and noise, they flow
From the instruments we blow.
Lies and truth pour out
Through our sweet and sour mouth.
In God we say we trust,
But after riches we lust.
In life we give,
And in death we live.
Peace and strength come by our laws
That crumble in our paws.
We talk of peace and condemn war
Yet in us we crave for more.
Hug the day and condemn night
Yet the darkness shows our might.
The games we all played yesterday
Is the foolishness of today.
Yet we crave for yesteryears
And in our folly, nothing say.
The child is born, the man will come.
As night ushers in the morn.
Surely, the babe will return.
Such is life for everyone.
EARLY 2004 – 17\9\2005.

I live to write another day...

2009-11-10T00:21:00.001-08:00

Sorry I've been out for a while people. Blame it on the job. No, not the bank job, but (yeah you guessed right) my advertising job!
I'M BACK PEOPLE!!!

From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you that have prayed for and lit candles for me. :) I'm so very grateful. Thanks CaramelD, Freaksho, Ibiluv, ~Sirius~, incoherent (my luv), and everyone out there who has wished me well. Thank you.

This is why I write.

To clear my head and purge my soul
In the vain hope it will make me whole,
To gather my thoughts and give it breath;
To die in life and live in death.

Call me philosopher, call me muse;
Call me whatever ye may choose;
See, life is naught but a passing scene;
With my pen and paper, I may intervene.

Of a valiant knight; my dragon slain,
Will rear its ugly head again,
But I’ll forever valiant be,
To rise and fall again – my misery.

That day will come that I write no more
As I journey through this exit door;
But my pen, my power, my mystery
Will write an everlasting tale of me.

This is why I write.

25\08\2009.

things are rather looking up...

2009-10-11T18:04:00.000-07:00

So I finally got my 1TB external hard drive! That means I won't be agonising over any important file I mistakenly shift+delete. Heck, my laptop can go missing and I won't cry, cos I've backed up my files baby! Okay, that was a joke. I love my laptop.

Was in lag this past weekend, and the boys took me to this joint. Nice, classy and all, but just one problem: apart from the one that came with us, I coulda sworn all the other chicks were...err...'workers'. I wanna shock die!

In other news, people just dey marry anyhow. The bug seems to have caught some of my friends as well. What shall we say to these things? Carry on joo! Me, I go dey hia dey watch una until I gree go near di bug make e bite me. But for now, I have my bug spray handy, and my bug repelant rubbed over every spare inch of my body. There's no hurry in life.

I met someone recently. Smart. Funny. Sarcastic. Ambitious. Hustler. Me likee. We talked; we joked a bit; we danced round the obvious; we laughed. We promised to do it again...see where it leads to. We had better. Cos I need this job. And he needs this copywriter.

Gotta get some sleep if I'm to make it early to work later today.

Good night y'all

shiver me timbers! i think i'll post a poem...

2009-10-04T02:55:00.000-07:00

OR TWO:

With tears that knew not whence they came,
And laughter that knew not why,
We fought to live, our rage to tame;
In truth we lived a lie;
Only to turn back and reclaim
With heaves and many a sigh;
In death we’ll live past this wretched game
For while we live we die.
7/7/2005.

If I die before I wake.

If I die before I wake,
Weep not world, it wasn’t late;
For life is just a fleeting phase,
And death is but life’s entry gate.

If I should fall beneath this weight,
Weep not world, it was my fate;
For every birth is a fresh demise,
And life is but death’s cunning bait.

25\06\2009

By the way...

why do girls always think they have to bite their fingers in pictures? is that meant to be sexy?

why do people in movies think a kiss will solve all their problems?

what the hell am i still doing here?

oh, and by the way, anyone know how to speak jamaican patoi? i wan learn.

Here I go again

2009-08-05T08:53:00.001-07:00

I've decided that the love thing is not for me. At least for now. It's not that I've suddenly become allergic to love; it's just that....I don't know...whatever. So, while the rest of you cavort on the dreamy, chocolate-flavoured, vanilla-topped rolling hills of love, I remain adamant on my lonely trails on these dusty plains of Aba. Loveless. Careless.

In other news, I'm seriously considering doing a master's program. I realized – in fact, it startled me to high heavens – that after leaving school five years ago, I have not added one single dot to my degree. Now, some may not see this as a big deal, but having drawn up a virtual career path in my head, I know that I need this. Hey, wouldn't it be nice to be Muse PhD? Just asking.

Life's the same ol' same ol' o'er hur. Same ish, different day. Work's getting more annoying by the day, but I'm hanging in there 'cos I got a reason.

Not posted a new note for a while, cos, you know, sheeeze. I need a break, and I need it now.

Holla at my peoples living their dreams. This too shall pass.

As random as it gets...

2009-06-13T01:17:00.001-07:00

I like the rain. Scratch that. I love the rain. So much so that I've been known (at my adult age I might add) to walk gleefully and slowly, while the rain poured down on me. There's just something about it that is, I don't know, refreshing and cleansing. Oh, and don't forget cool as well. The sound of rainfall is the perfect soundtrack to a meditative state of mind. Then again, that's just me.

I think I hate my job. I know, I know...I was the one who took it, right? But contrary to unpopular belief though, I took this job 'cos it affords me the opportunity to be a lil' closer to my home base (remember sey omo boy wan enter politics). But after three months in it, I definitely do believe I hate it. What to do? I'm scheming to:

Get into the brand communications department of the bank; or
Get another job in advertising.

Either ways, by God's grace, come next month, I'm back to my beloved Lagos. So if any y'all know of any vacancy in an ad agency for a copywriter (said agency must be willing to pay "kidnappers' salary" LOL), or a vacancy in the corporate affairs or brand communications department of a company that is "holding", let your boy Muse know.

I seriously believe I've been in some relationships for the wrong reasons. I don't know. This is what I believe though, when I see her, I will know. So, here goes my undertaking from now on: stay away from "something more". We can be friends, but that's all it's going to be. I'm too much of a contradiction to be in any relationship now.

The new theme for the phase of my life is Faze's "Originality". That song 'ministers' to me. Preach!

So, someone said the rainfall was the almighty One taking a piss. Right. Some statements I rather not even reply. Someone else said it was God shedding a tear. If that's the case, then God must really have a lot to cry about. Well, whatever the case may be, I just love the rain.

there’s something about change...

2009-04-26T04:05:00.001-07:00

For some time now, I've been contemplating a most contentious issue. oyibo!

Seriously.

They say change is the only constant in life, and that they who will survive, must change; must adapt. But come to think of it, do I want to? I mean, really? Think about it: one day you're massaging a mixture of spirit and "Sulphur 8" on your chin like your life depends on it, and the next day you're running sharp objects round your chin (perhaps elsewhere as well?) in a bid to remove that oh, stubborn hair that keeps growing back.

Change, huh? Well.

But I think I've changed some. See, back in school, I didn't know what I wanted to do when I got out. Cos, well, unlike some of you who read courses that pretty much led them (albeit blindly, I say) into a defined career path (think of the poor sods who read medicine, optometry, law, engineering...) I read history and International Relations (HIR) – in Abia state University (ABSU).

Before you start "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing" at the mouthful of a course, let me just state here that the swagger of that degree was just in the title. One of the courses, study of the world languages, was a walk-through the Igbo language. Yeah man, I always knew my Igbo brothers would eventually make an impact on the whole world. Nna meen! Noting mega!

So. I read HIR at ABSU. And while most of my course mates – and even the current students – kept deceiv...sorry, encouraging themselves that they would automatically become diplomats on graduation (they did then, and still do keep calling themselves ambassadors till today) I had not the faintest clue as to where I would end up.

Ofcourse, several thoughts crossed my mind:

Get a shop in Ariairia; or

Employ boys that would carry market-goers across those gaping pot-holes that just filled up once it rained; or
1. Become a diplomat (after all, I read HIR, no?); or

Yeah. Or something.

I just had no clue. So, with a box full of whatever I thought I might need and a heart full of hope (na, scratch that and put curiosity) I went for Youth Service – in Yobe State. I still had no plan, but hey... I had a whole year to make one up.

But I didn't want to work in a bank.

Chang happens, right? Fast forward three years, and now I'm sitting at home and typing these words off the top of my head. I've already quit two jobs (in advertising – which I must confess, I love more than a whole lot of things) and I'm on the third. In a bank!

So change happens. I decided to come back to Aba from Lagos for a reason. I decided to leave the job I love and pick up one I may one day learn to like for a reason. I didn't get that shop in Ariaria for a reason. And I'm sure as the cold wind in winter writing all these for a reason.

What would you guys say if I told you Muse waned to unveil himself?

To change or not to change. That is the question at hand.

I have a dream...

2009-04-11T01:58:00.000-07:00

Some people argue that dreams are a subconscious repetition of events that we’ve let play around in our minds over a long period of time, especially just before hitting the sack. Others argue that dreams are a bridge between the physical and the supernatural worlds. Whatever it is, – subconscious repetition or supernatural bridge – lately I’ve been dreaming.

And it ain’t been pretty.

I get home from work, barely manage to undress while simultaneously hitting the sack, watch a bit of Commander In Chief (don’t you just love that stubborn gal, Mac?) and doze off. Now one might think that after a particularly stressful day of talking to an ill-mannered, unapologetically annoying dude with bad breath, and who thinks that an LC (letter of credit) is someone’s English name, one would have a pleasant, eventless dream full of rolling landscapes and three little birds.

Wrong.

Somehow, my now-obviously warped mind manoeuvres events in my dream to bring me right back to...wait for it...WORK! Yep. These days, I’ve opened just about any type of account the bank has in my dream. And just to think that a few weeks ago I was laughing at a colleague for complaining that she was marketing in her dream. Now it seems I do too. Not fair. Not fair at all!

But my mind’s even more messed up than I think.

After endlessly complaining about my dream job (no pun intended), I finally had a break.

I had a dream, yes, but not one about work! I was coordinating a high-level rescue operation for a top-secret government agency (don’t ask me which), and I was pretty much on top of my game. Trust me, I’m bad!

So. I’m coordinating this operation, when this theme music starts playing (somehow, I suspect Enya had a hand in this) just when the building blows up with one of my men inside! WHAT?! NO!!!!!!!!!!! And in the usual turn-of-events of Hollywood movies, the characters start revealing their faces while showing strong emotions when – and I swear I screamed out so loud my younger brother abruptly stopped snoring in his room – my horror-filled scream tore through the thin fabric of the night.

ALL THE CHARCTERS WERE MY COLLEAGUES FROM WORK!

God help me. Somehow I've got to meet that target.

Tired on a roll

2009-03-14T01:46:00.001-07:00

It’s been a busy few days.

Come to think of it, starting from last week, I’ll have to sit at the reception each time I go to my former place of work. Now, that will be weird.

Muse: Hi, I’m here to see my (ex) boss.

Receptionist: Hello? There’s a Muse here to see Muse’s (ex) boss. Is he available?

Anyway, having packed my bags and said my goodbye to all my numerous girl friends (I wish), I proceeded to my place of birth and breeding, the ever-famous city of Aba – but first, a short trip to the paradise city of Calabar.

Did You know that I almost left my phones behind in Lagos? Just an aside; just an aside!

Calabar is a beautiful city by all standards (especially when the standards are Nigerian). From the immaculately clean streets to the smooth, well-tarred roads, Calabar is ne city that makes you want to go home, turn your state Governor face-down / ass-up, and give him a spit-shined, healthy leather boot-covered kick in the ass – just a few hundred times. I mean, this is a city in a state that, though in the South-South geopolitical zone of Nigeria, is not an “NDDC” state. Yep, that means they ain’t got oil. And if they ain’t got oil, they ain’t getting no oil allocation from the FG, which naturally means that they should be the least developed of the NDDC states. Right? WRONG!

Waiiiiiiit a minute! This is not a post about Calabar or even about politics – this is a post about MY busy few days. Calabar will have to wait.

Oh, did I mention that Calabar has a vibrant night life (as if you didn’t know already)?

SO...I spend a coupla nights in Calabar (where by the way, my host treats me to a sumptuous meal of pounded yam and affang soup), then zoom off on a three-hour journey to Aba. Said trip was nice and all, but trust the Nigerian Police to mess things up. Just as we got into Aba, some hungry-looking (remember folks, this isn’t profiling; it’s actually their trade mark) mobile police men stopped us. Driver brings out his hand to do the “usual”, which piques the officer. In righteous indignation (of course), the officer decides he’s going to do a thorough check on the bus...and guess who’s boxes he wants to see their contents?

By this time, I’m thinking “add another drama to my life, and you might as well just call me Britney Spears”.

Sure, I did disappoint the police. What did they expect to see...weed (although there were some tea bags that looked pretty suspicious)? All in all, that was not funny.

Next stop, Abiriba (my villa y’all). Burial. Nothing much. Except that my sister decides to come home with her coin-box-displaying friends of hers.

Did you know that coin boxes came in different shades and sizes – even foldable? I swear!

As if the coin-box assault was not enough, one of her friends decides she likes me. Me! What the heck?! One minute I’m standing alone, the next...”Hi!” WHAT THE HECK?! You’re still in the university for goodness’ sake (like that matters)! And not to mention the thing of you coin-boxing everyone within sight! To top it off, you’re my younger sister’s friend (you think I’m going to be foolish enough to give all y’all something to gossip about?)! Ha! In fact, double haaa!

My troubles were not over. Not just yet.

The next day I zoom off to Aba again, then from there to Onitsha, being driven by the most maniacal driver I’ve ever had the misfortune of entering his vehicle.

Oh, wait. There was that other guy who got so drunk that he caused the car to summersault three times! I’m glad nothing was broken – on me sha. He had to wear neck braces for a long time.

I get to Onitsha in one piece, thank God, having survived a reckless driver and a spit-throwing, irate driver who was cut off by our idiotic bus driver. Unfortunately, some of that spit landed on me.

I’ve been defiled.

So here I am, sitting out a three-day induction at the regional office of a bank, after which I move to my place of posting (Aba). This is more like detention than induction, ‘cos all I’m doing is sitting and wishing I was not here.

Anyway, come tomorrow I’m outta here, and even though I almost can’t stand any more travelling, I’m looking forward to this trip.

I’m also looking out for that maniac of a driver!

This is not a Freaksho!

2009-02-27T05:48:00.001-08:00

Resigned! I'm going back to my state (Abia), to start getting myself ready for what lies ahead (Ibiluv, wanna bet again? This time about my being a politician, of course)? Anyways, I don't know how else to write about it, so here's a transcript of my farewell "speech" to my co-workers.

Enjoy.

Okay, so where do I start? I'm moving back to the East (Abia state in particular) to sort out a few family issues. I will be lying greatly if I said I will not miss leaving (workplace) and everyone I've been fortunate to work with these past ten months. As leave, it is with a heavy heart, but also a heart full of thankfulness for all the people that have made (workplace) the greatest working place I've ever been in.

Thanks, Madam Principal for your experience and words of wisdom (trust me, you have a way of pouring them out). To Dreads, you're the coolest boss ever (albeit older and less virile than you-know-who)! Mobutu? You make the workplace a funplace. Thanks, SOJ for your encouragements; "Bishop", for your "prayers", and "Soludo" for your advice (really); thanks my (that account) brand team members for all your troubles (which I somehow managed to reply in kind). Ofcourse, TRGI, you're one-of-a-kind. (Duh)? You know now.

Miss B…thank you. Kogi Boi…thanks for introducing me to HBR. Prof…you know you've challenged me to pick up from where I left.

To Freaksho…you're probably the best writer (forget the "old" guys, they've had their fame; we rule now) I've been fortunate to know; Ebaby, "cool" doesn't even begin to describe you; Aloofaa, you may not know it yet, but bet you my gubernatorial seat that I'll be reading about you in the papers, online, and watching you on TV. To Rud Boi and Chicken, just one question: una no dey tire? Y'all make the rest of us look bad! Go home! To (Mr. nice guy), O2 and T, na God go reward una; Don, Blacky and Capt. Finished artist, thanks for bringing my ideas to life.

E! Damn, S got there first! Just kidding, but you're the best. Ever!

Chubby, na only time go cure you; Igbo Boy, keep the hustle on man, never forget that iwu nwa Aba. BJ…thank God sey you don marry (phew!). "Ugly Betty" (you know you have a way to inspire me *wink*). Fine girl, thank God you won't be harassing me again; Fake Igbo girl wanna-be (let's not even go there); T-beybey, even though you no gree for me, me I gree for you. LOL. O.P (ope oh!).

I love all y'all, and will most definitely miss you.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned

2009-02-18T05:15:00.001-08:00

Telling the truth is a whole lot like taking a piss. You take a good position, ready yourself and, when sure that the timing is right, fire away. The result? Sweet, heavenly relief – mostly.

So, sometime ago I lied about some "truths" I posted on this blog. It was a little white lie, honestly! I mean, come on...even you have had to lie, right?

Right?

Aw, okay, whatever. So now I have to tell the truth (and there's also that little bet between me and ibiluv). This should be as much fun as all confessions are. Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

*I'm not catholic, so please forgive me if I get this wrong.

Muse: Forgive me father, for I have sinned. My last confession was in...oh hold on...this is my first!

Priest: May God give you the heart to feel true sorrow for what you're about to confess, my son.

Muse: When I was younger, I wrestled with our house help.

Priest: Well, the holy book does frown upon fighting....

Muse: In our underwear.

Priest: Good heavens man!

Muse: She said we had to do it like it was on TV, father. She punched me with her hands and the round heaps on her chest. She fell on me and I liked it. She jumped up and down and I could only stare. Do you know what it feels like, father?

Priest: Enough already! What else have you done?

Muse: When I was younger I lied to my dad;

I did so to stop the swing of his hand;

Told him I even forgot my sister's name;

Unfortunately, she wasn't game.

Have you ever lied, father?

Priest: Um, well...

Muse: Never mind. You don't have to answer that.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

Priest: What, may I ask, have you done again?

Muse: Nothing, father, this I didn't do,

Yet, on blogville, did admit to.

I never did like physics class,

Never did like the teacher much.

I never liked her bony ass,

Forgive me father, for we're in church.

I did lie though, about liking her,

And how my Willie did salute.

Truth be told, I was an F9er

In physics, chemistry and other sciences. Shoot!

So now father I've purged my soul,

I lied, I failed, and I held her.

But I've just one question that may make me whole...

Have you ever had a boner?

Forgive me, for I shall sin...

2009-02-10T04:22:00.000-08:00

When we were much younger, there was always a sure-fire way to make us tell the truth. It was not the beating (we somehow got used to that), neither was it the withholding of sweet goodies (we always managed to nibble some off our siblings). You see, we were built tough - and smart, so we always had a way to get round the threats of punishment.

Except one. We didn't want to go to hell.

What relief, it must have been then, when my folks (and siblings, and friends) found out that with the threat of all liars going to hell, we'd squeal like mice with a bad case of constipation. those were horrible days.

"Muse, which one of you spoilt the TV?"

"I don't know"

"All liars shall..."

(Pointing with amazing accuracy) "It was him!"

Anyways, that won't work now.

Or will it?

So, I've been tagged by CaramelD, and now I have to tell two truths and a lie, while leaving you to guess which is which. Hope you have as much fun trying to spot out what is true and what's a lie, as I had a tough time thinking them up.

So, father forgive me for I shall sin, for surely, one "truth" is a lie:

1. When I was younger, we had a much older house help who always loved wrestling with me - only thing was, we had to be in our undies. (What? We had to make it look as real as on TV!).

2. In secondary school, I had a crush on my physics teacher. (Curse the day she asked me to stand up and answer a question in class! Lil' willie decided it was the perfect time to raise his head as well.)

3. I once faked temporal amnesia to escape being flogged for having poor grades. (Told my dad I couldn't even remember my sister's name!).

What do you think? What's true? What's a lie?

Over to you.

As I sit and ponder

2009-01-20T09:54:00.000-08:00

Ambition, like death, is a cold, cold thing. Yet like the air we breathe, we keep falling into its seductive embrace. Poor, wretched beings that we are, what else can we do?

I’ve always known that I would venture into politics, and although I sought different ways to express my then-budding desire to help in alleviating the plight of the common man (I wanted to study law – and even went as far as buying a book on criminal law), I had never really sat down to think through the lofty goal I had set for myself – or perhaps life had set for me.

Not until now...(read on)

Still in the arms of my blues

2009-01-16T05:01:00.001-08:00

Seriously, I have no idea what to blog about. I've kinda been in a suspended state lately, and it has nothing to do with my experiences last Christmas - oh, and trust me, last Christmas deserves a long post on its own.

I don't know what to blog about.

Some days ago, I was listening to one of Enya's tracks (wild child) and it sort of got me in the mood (Enya always does that) to write something. Considering I hadn't written in close to (or was it more than?) a year, a little bit of melancholy was just what I needed to lift my spirit (trust me on this).

So, I wrote.

In the arms of my blues, I wrote something from deep within my dark sprite; something as simple, yet as complex as it flows. Something that I was born with, yet created. Something that was me.

It is an untitled piece, and I hope you enjoy it.

The sun, it shines

The moon doth glow

The lazy child lies

Beneath the flower's bloom.

The days go by

The sun stands still

But the waters flow

And the new-borns scream.

We remain alive

We near death's door

Yet the sun will shine;

The moon, glow still.

12/1/2009.

2008 ME awards.

2008-12-18T04:03:00.001-08:00

I deserve an award! Okay, maybe not, but then again, if I can't get any, I can at least give 'em.

So in recognition of the good, the not so good and the downright ugly, here goes the winners of my very own (spelt ME) awards.

Enjoy…or warreva.

Movies

Worst Movie: Meet the Spartans (what on earth were they thinking?).

Second Best: Juno (flows like a string of short, funny commercials).

Best movie: Quantum of Solace (Yeah, I said it. What?).

Food

Worst Meal/Snack: Mosa (It's the one made with plantain, right?).

Second Best: Chinese at Big Treat (You gotta love the steaming plate).

Best Meal Snack: ọtọ (it's an Abiriba delicacy made with cocoyam – or is it wateryam?).

Drink

Worst Drink: Mango Tango (NEVER EVER try it! – something tells me you will).

Second Best: Power Horse (Dunno, kinda like it).

Best Drink: A mixture of all citrus juices (Look, it's my list!).

Music

Worst Song: I don't even know the title, but it's something by Ashanti. (Arrrrrrrgh!).

Second Best: "Hustle" by M.I (Yes, the brova's som'n).

Best Song: "Nwa Aba" by Fuff Con (I no send you. Aba boys are doing some good stuff).

Moment

Worst Moment: Having to stand my own ground (it was me against the family. You understand na).

Second Best: Seeing my home boy get married last week (oh, and it was in Aba).

Best Moment: When she lit up like a Christmas tree (anything for you, love).

Fashion

Worst Kit/Accessory: The Mohawk (what the heck is that?! – and yeah, it's not a fashion accessory, but I gotta put it somewhere, right?)

Second Best: A good watch (Like anything silver, a good watch highlights the black skin in a shade yet to be crystallised – beautiful).

Best Accessory: Sneakers (Take me anywhere baby!)

Toy

Worst Toy: My phone's Bluetooth headset (If no be sey na me use my money buy am ehn, I for don smash am for wall!)

Second Best: My lapi (if I no mention am now, e fit crash...so here's to you, laptop!).

Best Toy: My LG Home theatre system (just got it, so e still dey shack me).

Person

Most Difficult Person: Popsi (then again, you don't choose your family, do you?).

Second Best: My mad boss (I shall not mention names. If you be my boss, and if you mad, na you).

Best Person: House (c'mon, who's better than the mad doctor himself?).

Favorite Blog Post

By another blogger: Shine – the seven year itch (what can I say? It's a good one. I enjoyed reading it).

Written by me: To each guy his own penis (make I blow my own trumpet na).

Lesson/Skill

Worst Lesson/Skill: What to do when you have a heart attack (no real life situation, so how do I know it works?).

Second Best: How to open a bottle of wine without an opener (caution: will work for only some bottles).

Best Lesson/Skill: Some things, you can only do alone (trust me; your life will depend on it).

Now, I tag YOU (yes, you)! Who wins your own award? Go on...

Finally, I breath!

2008-12-01T08:13:00.001-08:00

Okay, so when t comes to politics, i I get all wired up. I'll start talking ideology, governmental style, the involvement of the youth, as well as my own political ambition (yeah people, in the near future, I'll be asking y'all to vote for me).

I love politics. As cliche as it may sound, I believe in the politics of service and not of money and looting, and so help me God, I will bring about a change n Nigeria. I've always known that our children will study me in school (LOL). Tall ambition ab?

Well, we go see.

Anyways, so I started a different blog (it was my first blogging experiment actually, but I abandoned it about two-ish years ago, but now i've started again) to rave and rant and generally discuss about my views on Nigerian politics.

This week, I bring you "madness, what madness? THIS IS NIGERIA!", a.k.a., the Nigerian Alliance.

Hope you enjoy it.

How she move

2008-11-25T08:37:00.001-08:00

She moved like she was on fire, fuelled by the beguiling rhythm of deep desire. And even though I tried to move along with her, I was stuck – mesmerized more like – to my place. I could only move my head. Even then, I did so cautiously, knowing that my head could not fully capture the essence of the spirit that poured forth through every rhythmic beat, every drop of sweat, every gasp and every humid release of air.

I remained stuck to my place.

Though the lights were off, she stood in the limelight. As her voice echoed through every inch of the orifice that was my ear, I felt a slight tremble as we became one. Her story became my story; her pain, my anguish; her laughter, my joy; and her tremor, my earthquake. At that moment, we were one.

We continued the secret dance that was ours, oblivious of the presence of any other in the room. Truth be told, we cared less. The world be damned. This was our time. Enthralled and totally vanquished by her, I let myself float in to her world.

I saw life through her eyes.

She didn't need to talk anymore. Just a smile, a glance, a subtle tilting of the head was all I needed to read the deep thoughts that ran through her mind. At that point, we were one.

As she dismounted, a pained smile danced across my face. She was good. Compelling. Deep. Persuasive. She was gone.

As the lights came one and all the actors took their bow, I was glad I had seen the stage play, SARAFINA. The actors were good, but the lead actress was – well, just too good.

Kudos to our South African brothers for a story so deep and moving, it should be called the African story. Kudos to the lead actress, Sarafina.

To each guy his own penis...

2008-11-14T00:56:00.000-08:00

To each guy his own penis;
To every girl, her pair.
This is not a post about sex,
Now why on earth would I go there?
Freaksho’s already done it; Aloofar’s shown off his dicks,
Nothing compared, I tell you, to blogsville’s crazy chicks.
Now to the matter at hand,
Shall we get ahead?
Something dey vex me and
My head is in a bend.

Why people too dey compare,
Why can’t we be content?
Some people too dey show themselves,
Others dey pretend
Sey dem no be who dey be,
Or sey dem hol’ too much
Others too dey yarn dia size,
Like sey e go win dem prize.

Ehen, does size really matter?
Is it guaranteed to please her?
Is it having sex or making love?
Don’t ask me, ask ibiluv!

I don’t have an opinion on everything,
So you can’t sue me.
I’m just rattling off some random thoughts;
E get as e dey do me.

I may not be Obama, but I'm getting me some attention!

2008-11-07T04:34:00.000-08:00

That's right! The world must remember my name. Muhahaha! This week, I slip into the deep recesses of my mind, drawing out a me that's always been around, or some dude lurking in the dark, desperately trying to see the light of day. Today, he gets his wish! Ladies and gentlemen, behold Muse the canibal. Along with this, here are two poems: one dark (sorta), and the other, well just plain ol' me.

Enjoy.

Oh, and by the way, Obama rocks!

------------------------

The sons of men
In Abassi’s eyes
Lay naked
Under the noonday skies
Though they covered be
Through a mastered craft
That we do not see
For we have believed
And we now forget
What we really are
In Abassi’s eyes
We are sons of men
---------------------------

My soul is deep
And dark it is
My soul does weep
And gnash its teeth
For bitterness has eaten deep
Now brokenness and sorrow sit
Enthroned, rulers of a wretched being
Whose only hope of solace is
A fitless, eventless eternal sleep.

Shave my legs and call me grandma! ...otherwise known as wow!

2008-10-29T02:41:00.000-07:00

The Nigerian music scene has got me dusting up my old dance moves, making me hop, step n twist like never before. Never mind that all these are happening in my head, ‘cos if truth be told, I can’t dance to save my life.

Thank God for Yahoozie! At least people like me can now lay hold on to a dance step – no matter how ridiculous.

Anyhoo, back to my initial line of thought. Omo boys dey hot like fire! I recently laid my hands on some tracks from the yet-to-be-released album (don’t ask me how) of some new dude called M.I, and man...um, man...well, he’s good. He’s got the rhymes, the attitude and the smarts to be 9ja’s next big rap star.

He’s not the only one.

There’s also this other chick called Nyore (fellas, I hear she’s hot!) who’s got me um...dancing (you know warramean). These group of new school artistes seem set to put Nigerian music on the world map, and like never before, I’m proud to be Nigerian!

But the guy that’s got me on a roll right now is that Benin bobo, Oriri! His album, Sisi Eko (which is also the title of his hit track) is off da hooooooooooook! I’m annoying my colleagues right now by playing his album over and over again! LOL!

Oh, and by the way, I started jogging. Yeah! Two days down the line, and I suddenly feel sympathetic towards the poor sods in the military that have to do this every morning. My joints ache like mad, and my thighs and calves feel like Samuel Peters took out his revenge on them. All because the lady doesn’t like the belly that much. What on earth happened to “I love you the way you are”?

Well, here’s a toast to the 9ja music scene, and wishing me speedy recovery (or woreva), cos as God is my witness, come tomorrow morning, I’m going jogging again!

Well, tie me up and call me a puppet.

AND NO! NO POEM TODAY. C’MON GUYS, EVERYDAY’S NOT A HOLIDAY (Asa...).

we who are about to die salute you...

2008-10-24T12:06:00.001-07:00

Morituri te salutamus. You probably know this famous greeting ill-fated gladiators made to the Emperor, when he was gracious enough to bestow upon a fight, his presence. Not the most exciting thing to look forward to, I must say. But, hey, they had a job to do right?

In many ways, I feel like a gladiator.

Okay, make that one way. And believe me, it's not an easy way. You see, I'm a copywriter, and my job demands that I come up with creative ideas and strategies that sell whatever message, service or product my client wants to pass across to his Target Audience. It may seem fun at first, but when you get down to the nitty gritty, you get to understand that a lot of brain power goes into producing one single communication material (or ad). Well, then again, a lot of brain power is supposed to go into it.

Here lies my pain.

Today, a lot of the ads on the pages of the papers and on TV make me want to shoot myself. No, really! It seems everyone's doing a wam, bam, slap-it-on kinda job, thinking the rest of us humans out there suddenly developed the intelligence of mules. I mean, who on God's green earth approves the stuff called ads these days?! Who's the sucker that pays for them?

What does my ranting have to do with Russell Crowe and the other half clad men in leather? Nothing. Except for the fact that credible copywriters are fast becoming extinct, and are slowly being replaced by half-baked, 419ing, pretentious usurpers to the ad throne.

E dey pain me oh!

Where are the writers?! Stand up before someone runs us out of the scene, and we become, just like the gladiators, a people of past glory and fame.

We who are about to die salute you.

With tears that knew not whence they came,

And laughter that knew not why,

We fought to live, our rage to tame;

In truth we lived a lie;

Only to turn back and reclaim

With heaves and many a sigh;

In death we'll live past this wretched game

For while we live we die.

7/7/2005.

Sleepless in Lagos.

2008-09-15T03:30:00.000-07:00

Another week, another set of challenges, and plenty new oportunies to...well, just do it (only this time better).

My life's been on a roller-coaster ride: so many briefs to handle at the office with so little time to do so; me and my girl having a major misunderstanding; my co-workers trying to give me a heart attack; and finding a companion in that annoying, miserable, irreverent doctore, House. So far, life's been interesting.

Again, I have to say a big thank you to incoherent, who seems to always have the words to encourage me to put up a post. Thanks, babe!

Today, I'm sharing a poem I just wrote (after so many years!). It portrays the battle going on on the inside of me, as well as the questions I think we all ask every now and then. It may not be a great way to start a Monday morning, but hey...what other way to start the week than by musing about who (or what) we are? What is our sum total?

For those who enjoy poetry...here's one for you:

I do not know what I’ve become;

It’s clear now that I’m no more me,

Maybe I was, but now I am,

Or not

Maybe now I was.

The darkness in my soul shines forth

The light, subdued, is put to flight

Now reigns the terror of the night

Or not

‘Tis the despot that is light.

So lift your heads o gates of hell

Let loose your fury from your well

For I have answered the reaper’s knell

Or not

I am free from my cell.

Plunge deep your sword and let me rest

Draw out the pain in my breast

Now I am free; I’ve passed the test

Or not

Maybe I’ve just begun my quest.

1/9/2008.

I'm in one of those moods...

2008-08-08T05:09:00.000-07:00

Ever felt like you were suspended in space? You're neither here nor there; neither happy nor sad, but knowing that there's something tugging at your heart. Well folks, I'm in one of those moods today. I know I should perhaps sit and brood, but I'm too restless to do so.

Whatever.

Anyways, here's a poem I wrote some time ago (I seem to have suddenly experienced a block in the past few years). As is usual with me, I'm sharing it with you (yes, you).

Oh, one more thing: big ups to the Queen. You're one heck of a writer!

Untitled.

The song I sing is a song of love

Bequeathed to me by an immigrant dove

With a broken wing and a song to sing

Many tales to tell, many bells to ring.

The dove did a solitary candle light

Within myself, did start a fight

Blinded by each ray of hope

Yet wishing still in the dark to grope

To hold on to a broken heart

Afraid to be born anew, to start

A journey long since left behind

A weakened spirit, a fragile mind.

15/12/2004.

Something for the incoherent one...

2008-07-08T05:42:00.000-07:00

I know. Been gone for some time. Don't know who or what to blame. Work maybe, or just plain laziness. Anyways, since Incoherent made me feel like I had something upstairs (by her encouraging comments), I'm putting this up especially for her. Oh, and one more thing Incoherent - be sure that the love's mutual. :)

Have you ever felt yourself rebel against someone or something, only to find that that very thing you fought against was actually YOU? That, I have found out is the story of my life. This poem is a personal one, and I just feel like I should share it with you guys, starting with Incoherent. Enjoy...

You and Me.

I tell myself I hate who you are,

That I will never go that far,

That I love my life and liberty;

Yet I see yourself in me:

The life you lived

The day you saw

And so much more.

Is how it was before?

I am tempted to push and fight.

I know my stance; it is my right.

Yet I turn and say to you,

“I hate the things that you do.”

Still I myself must be true –

I am not much different from you

We must learn to take our paths,

Free from hatred, free from fear,

For if you don’t it will tear

You apart;

To the brink of madness bring you near.

Yet I see it is true,

You were me, and I am you.

Now I understand who you are.

You are the wrong that I must right,

The bitterness I must fight,

The hatred I must shun,

The love I must beget.

You are you, I am me,

You were me, I am you.

at the end of it all...we are what we are

2008-06-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

This week, I don't plan to go into some long discourse (primarily because I have nothing to talk about, AND I'm too lazy to even think). So, to keep my blog going, I'm posting this poem I wrote sometime ago.

I hope you enjoy it:

The sons of men
In Abassi’s eyes
Lay naked
Under the noonday skies
Though they covered be
Through a mastered craft
That we do not see
For we have believed
And we now forget
What we really are
In Abassi’s eyes
We are sons of men

exodus of a mind in captivity

2008-06-13T01:27:00.000-07:00

Huddled beneath the crushing weight of a thousand angry words, the little boy couldn't but hate himself. Somehow he didn't blame the world - couldn't, shouldn't really - for its anger at him. There was only one person to hate, and that was his maker.

why, o, why did He deem it fit to create him this way? Why did He create him at all? Was it just for the fun of it; having grown weary from the worship of a million years, He now wanted something to taunt at? A new toy?

Why?

He wished he could change himself. Maybe he would start with his hair, or maybe his hard-done skin. Maybe he would learn to speak differently, or even put on another skin.

They told him he was evil, and he believed. He was told that he existed in darkness, and this he received. What was his crime; his disease; his curse?

Nothing. Hurdled beneath the crushing weight of a thousand words, he suddenly realised there was nothing in the world wrong with him. Suddenly, he couldn't but love himself. If the world hated him, then, he decided, they were a victim of their own ignorance, a self-loath which they had yet to know. He thanked his maker, and standing proud and tall, he proclaimed for all the world to hear...

I am African.

I was made from the loam of the horned land,

Shaped as I am by the Lord’s hand.

From my curly hair to my rounded nose;

And my thickly lips to my princely pose,

I was made African.

I was made, and so I am

As dark as Mazi Agwu’s farm;

And I’ll not claim my soul is white,

For it is as dark as my sprite;

I was made African.

My blood is the Niger River,

My vein, the roots of the yellow guava;

My spinal cord is the Iroko,

The colour of my blood is indigo;

I was made African.

I was cooked in the open fire,

I was made with much desire.

There is no dross in me, I’m pure;

I’m all you are and so much more.

I am African.

An evening in nothingness...

2008-06-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt at some time that you were lost? Floating in space with no clue as to what on Earth is going on around (or in) you. As if you were another person in your suit of skin. As if you were living a borrowed life. I've been there a couple of times, and I still visit there now and then. It is a place from where we'll never be free, but a place that offers some respite in a crazy world, nonetheless. Still, even in the midst of all this madness, something within us still fights to anchor us on Earth. A solitary candle glow.

Enjoy today's poem, and just float away to a place of sweet nothingness...

In a hidden part of a broken soul
Lays a solitary candle glow
Which has as its only goal
To mend the shattered golden bowl
To make it shine again as though
It never knew the fatal blow
That made it many pieces be
Thus making different parts of me
Dispelling any certainty
Of who I am.

burn, baby burn!

2008-06-03T04:54:00.000-07:00

I want to burn some fat! Okay, I'm not entirely a blob of fat rolling happily on, but I'm not a "knock-ye-down six-packer" either.

But boy, do I love them sweet things.

So, what's to do? I need to go on a diet - that I know- but which one? That's where you come in. Yes, you! You've got to help me! *sob* *sob* *sob*. I just wanna lose the tummy...and the laps...and the (oh, you get the drill).

Adivice, anyone?

Of death and dieing…

2008-05-26T09:57:00.001-07:00

I've always been fascinated by the subject of death. Not so much the act itself, but the subtle message it passes across. I'm constantly amazed at how people associate death with the extremely negative, yet like Tu Face said, "Nobody wan die but dem wan go heaven".

Amazing.

So, death. What does it mean, really? Is it just the end of life as we know it, or the beginning of another? Is it a reminder of the fragility of life, prompting us to live better lives, or an annoying fun police prompting us to enjoy every teeny weenie bit of life before he comes for us?

I believe in the Christian belief about death. But most importantly, I view death as an ever-constant reminder that we should live our lives ultimately to lift up others. And when we do die, we will be judged by how we lived. Our names will either live on or die. In this case, death is the ultimate test of life.

As usual, another poem, a distraction from all the heavy stuff.

Untitled.

Man was made for joy and woe.

So said the poet of years before.

'Twas rightly said,

For now I know:

Man was made for joy

I was made for woe.

In the darkest night shines the brightest light

Yet beneath the light lays the deepest fright.

Thus begins my journey

And my plight:

Will I make it

Through the night?

Don't fail me now, O gleam of hope.

Let me not fall, let me not grope.

I know I'll yet drink from that well;

I do not know, I cannot tell.

I'm standing tall, I'm lying weak,

How do I find that which I seek?

Man was made for joy and woe,

I'll find my joy, for man is woe.

ok! ok! i you win! i've been tagged!

2008-05-21T07:23:00.000-07:00

Rules (who needs 'em?):
1.link the person who tagged you. That'll be aloofar
2. Mention the rules in your blog…
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours...
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them…
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged...

i. When I was younger, I wished (or was it knew?) I was cyclops (X-men).

ii. There's always something urging me to jump from high places.

iii. I'm anti-establishment.

iv. In the dark, I close my eyes and feel my way around (I have no idea why).

v. I'm pretty sure I was in the secret service in my former life.

vi. I used to pronounce bridgestone (the tyre makers) "bridget stone"!

Now, I hearby tag...freaksho, smaragd, loomnie i'll tag the rest o'y'all later.

Take a chance on me!

2008-05-21T06:47:00.000-07:00

Adba. Yup, that group we all grew up with (or in the case of some of you, you grew up with the remixes of their songs by some silly boy bands - no offence intended).

Yesterday evening, some smart guy decided to make us all nostalgic by playing some of Adba's hit songs like "knowing me, knowing you"; "take a chance on me" and the rest. It woked. Now I'm nostalgic. For real.

I miss the good 'ol days when we did nothing but laze around, eat, watch TV, laze some more...you know the drill.

Then your voice cracks. You like the girl sitting next to you at school. You ask for her pencil - or better still snatch it! You start growing up.

Life.

So, here I am just wondering, "how much of life is chance"? How much of life do we plan? Do we have any control?

In the light of our uncertainty of life, here's a poem I wrote last year that somehow touches on the subject.

Enjoy:

Heaven is just a breath away
And life is but a sigh.
The grass will fade like yesterday;
The end of time is nigh.
So pack your bags and wash yourself,
And rest while still you can.
For night is just a wink away;
I know not of the day.
2/2/2007

of puppets and puppeteers...

2008-05-20T09:40:00.000-07:00

"For God's sake, act like a grown up!" I often wonder at time what the benchmarks for manhood are (well, aside the beards and other hairy showings and biceps - which in my case are hidden). Somehow it seems that the more we progress, the less we do. Figure that one out for yourself.

Today, I'm putting up one of my poems here, just to share my thots with you...you...you...you...

"Grow up!"

Untitled.

The birth of the man

Is not the babe’s demise,

For it will return

In quiet steps

Subtly rehearsed,

And reclaim its place,

Banishing the man

To eternal sleep.

Or maybe not;

It may decide

To vanish,

Yet live side by side –

An impact here,

A showing there.

Ever the perfect

Puppeteer.