Monday, September 28, 2009


I need a friend
I need a free end
An end I can be free
A close where I’m free
A cul-de-sac I can strip naked
Not a junction where the bus passes
A cocoon I can lick my wounds
A place to caper in the rain
A haven.My heaven.
In heaven I hear they hold hands and sing hallelujah!
This is hell where nobody really has a brother.
I know you heard Brutus betrayed Julius Ceasar
But you really need a sofa
To cushion your crash
To help you relax
Do you know how mother earth survives?
The clouds cry and pour out their burden till they are dehydrated
The ground shares their burden
Collects every single drop of their tears
And sends them vapour to end their thirst.
It’s the water cycle.
I am stagnant water
I long to flow into you freely
I long you pour into me easily
I long we are bound by this cycle
This cycle of concern
I long we are bound.
A bondage of freedom.
I want to be the place for you
I want to be there for you
I want a friend
I want a free end
You don’t have to have a red carpet and chandeliers
I would still cherish you bring my mat and lantern
And stay so you are not lonely.
Just don’t think like Mark Zuckerberg
He says I have a thousand friends
Don’t mind him.
It’s not me.
It’s just a page with my face.
You have to go beyond that phase
To be my friend.
Can you search my soul with google?
Can you know my status with twitter?
Saul seeks to kill David
David needs Jonathan
America is after Scofield
Sucre where are you?
Jacob is on a distressing journey
He needs a place to lay his head
How else would he see the angels if he doesn’t sleep?

adesubomi plumptre your book NO BULLSHIT inspired this poem.thankyou.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


A world renowned preacher and firebrand evangelist was about to die,his doctor asked what he wanted to do with his last moments.He replied with childlike glee “another opportunity to win souls for Christ!”.I wasn’t with sage Gani(I believe he deserves this title) at his last moments so I really have no idea what his last words were. Probably he was professing his love for his wife(we need to appreciate this resourceful woman too.You have no idea what it is to give your husband to Nigeria) but this one thing I know,Gani looking down at Nigeria(I believe he is in heaven)would be startled by the flood of condolences and comments and current of “grief” sweeping across the nation at his death.Forget whatever is portrayed by the media of Gani being strong in death.His death was agonizing!Infact he wept on national TV when he first returned from London after he was diagnosed with cancer.His death was avertable.If only the Nigerian medical system was sound!That was his bane.His pain.
It was in prophylactic of these dastard waste of Nigerian lives,potentials and resources that Gani founded a party-National Conscience Party(NCP) and contested for president in the last presidential elections.Did you vote for him?Who did you vote for?Did,did you even vote at all?Most ran to the polling booth the moment they heard someone was sharing #500.Na wa o.These I believe are exactly Gani’s thoughts. “Where did all these verbose condolences come from?Who are all these strangers?Why are they all pretending to be missing me?When I needed them most they weren’t there for me.When you could have changed a whole lot by voting for me,voting rightly,you did nothing!” I doubt if he had 10000 votes from a nation of 150million.Nigerians we talk too much.Too much and do nothing!All talk no action!As I type this piece I provoke with eruptive anger with every successive word.Also lets stop accusing and blaming “our leaders”(I wonder who coined this phrase).Lets resolve in our heart to do the right thing.No more corruption in any form.Expo.Bribery.Breaking traffic rules et al.Paramount is a national renaissance in our nation and government.The men follow football intensely(even dieing at times) and beer.The women,aristocrazy,fashion,their bodies,fashion(o I already said that) et al and we leave the fate of our country in the hands of greedy tyrannous vampires who have been Nebuchadnezzar for too long!All that is left for evil to thrive is for good men to do nothing.I doubt if any primary school student can recite the national anthem correctly!We are all just going about our lives selfishly and giving no impacting concern to Nigeria.Think not what your country would do for you but what you would your country. Thank Allah,Gani didn’t die for Nigerians(His whole labour would have been wasted).He died for the truth!
No man can live forever.A man’s life lies not on how long but how well.Spartans knew this simple truth.They never sort long life per se but glory and till today we talk about them.Today we are talking about Gani.Thank God churches are now teaching their members to be patriotic and so many individuals are fanning the flame of Nigerian consciousness.The future of Nigeria can be decided by this generation.So what is it going to be?

Monday, September 7, 2009


This is such a feeble attempt at a come back! Alot has been happening in this our beloved country 9ja(shhhh.... reuben abati said we should stop spelling nigeria like this)
Recently his excellency president Umaru Musa Yar’adua and the Nigerian government have been at the receiving end of such myriad of literal assault in the Nigerian dailies,physical and virtual Nigerian space that I pitied the poor man and asked myself(in defence of the innocent looking Yar’adua) is it that bad?Then my barking generator,empty pocket,fraustrated undergraduate of UNILAG and a sorrowful countenanced mother of a boko haram casualty reminded me that yes,it is that bad!Nevertheless the devil’s advocate in me evokes a picture of Yar’adua on a cross like Jesus suffering for the sins of many.Lets not forget the Yoruba proverb which says when you point an accusing finger at someone,your remaining four fingers point back at you.This is my point,we Nigerians are so quick to castigate “our leaders” while we also are corrupt in one form or the other.The average Nigerian is on default to blame “our leaders”(I wonder who cooked this phrase up) or the government when something goes wrong when he also contributes to the corruption plague.What I am advocating is a national reawakening,a shift from criticizing to patriotism and practical solutions.Legendary Michael Jackson said if you want to change the world start from the man in the mirror.
The Nigerian police has not had sweet sleep since the death of the Boko haram leader in its custody.The international community is asking questions.Nigerians are tongue lashing(as usual).But the truth is that this barbarism and disrespect for humanity is deeply etched in our psyche.It is the norm in Lagos and by extension the whole country for a mob to put the law into their hands and incinerate a captured armed robber(even in broad daylight!).If nigerians were asked to donate tires to move Nigeria forward nobody would but if it is time to set a thief ablaze you’d be surprised at the rate tires,petrol and matches would be produced!Every human is human,has life in him and deserves rights.Every human!That is what it means to be civil.I don’t know about the older Nigerian generation but this present generation of Nigerian youths grew up in nursery and primary schools where teachers ordered them to sing humiliating songs like “olodo rabata” to students that performed poorly in class.This were obviously psychological blows to those less brilliant students who at times cried and peed on their pants as they wallowed in ignominy while the mockers laughed.In secondary schools this inhumanity escalates to physical abuse.If a student steals and is caught,he/she is not taken directly to the necessary authority but first beaten blue black even by his/her friends.Students relish these moments.Its fun but unconsciously a part of them which is human with the capacity to fill pity dies slowly…
As I type this piece,Wande cole speaks on my laptop”Se na like this we go dey dey?”
“I no fit wait o make things for change o,make we join hands make am beta” The change should start from us.Stop taking one way.Stop buying expo for your children.Pay your tax.Stop selling your votes…….Arise o compatriots!

and here is a poem about my beloved 9ja


Many men have fooled Ada
Many men have used her
Once her lover was a particular soldier
Who returned decades later
A regimented civilian in agbada.
He flagrantly raped her
She birthed a son, Yaradua
Little wonder
(He is as weak as a sicker)

A victim of serial 419ers
Ada has lost over 300billion dollars
The OPC mallam grabbed a dagger
And charged at her con misters
But a con minister
And an inspector general
Launched a theatrical counter
And Waziri became the owner
Of the mallam’s kiosk and dagger

In all the drama
Ada couldn’t even lift a finger
To help the mallam-her helper
Because she was down with AIDS and cancer.

So sickly son examines unhealthy mother
And wanted to make her healthier
So he purchased bleaching cream and powder
Cosmetic products from Estee Laudier
He even hired
A pharmacist to be Ada’s clothier
Who got her Sergio hipsters
That made her as sexy as hip stars.

So sickly son thinks Ada is finer
The terminal virus in Ada’s blood lingers
The terminal in her blood is suicidal
The virus in her blood lingers……

Monday, May 25, 2009


Blogville,I’ so so sorry for all my sins.For absconding with all the wealth of knowledge and fun you gave to me to putting up a meager 1 post per month.I’ve sinned against heaven and before thee.I’m no longer worthy to be called a blogger.Please forgive me.I accept blogspot as my e-lord and personal screen saver.Let my URL name be written in the blog of life.AMEN!
People I’m so excited and thrilled to be back for shizzle.My fingers keep fidgeting from fever-pitch excitement as I type this post.No more 1post per month.I’ve decided against all odds to be active.I wasn’t happy seeing my comments drop from 40 to 7!I’d b glad if you read and comment my previous posts.Anywais,to the gist of the week,my cousin got married 2weeks ago but his mom supposed this is the time when their bodies would be at “boiling point” and they would be letting out the heat just about anywhere in the crib-in the kitchen,the floor,the toilet,on the TV,in the ceiling,on the generator LOL so she sent me over to live with them in other to spoil their show lol(just kidding) ANywais,I’m staying with them in the meantime.Lastweek my cousin asked me to go get fuel but there was(is) fuel scarcity so I combed the area in search of fuel but I ended up walking around aimlessly.Eventually an okada man who presumed me to be in search of fuel cos I carried a plastic jerrycan approached me and told me he knows where I can get fuel but he would charge me 300naira for transport to and fro.I agreed.Lets call this okada man fineboy agbero.Not quite 10secs into the ride he began to talk.
FBA said next time I cant get fuel I should ask an okada man cos they know “everywhere”.It’s no news that when you lose your way in Lagos you ask an okada man for help cos he definitely knows your destination but FBA gave me a startling insight to what he meant by “everywhere”.He said if I want to buy human head,freshly cut breast or any human body part he can take me to a shop in Ikeja where they are sold.I asked unbelievably “in this broad daylight afternoon?!” He replied yes!I asked how he got to know the place and he informed me in this transportation business you meet all sorts of persons going to different kind of places.FBA said he charges nothing less than 6,000naira for a trip to d “body shop”.He also said at times his passengers are robbers going on a mission.He said a particular thief he carried showed him his pistol and warned him not to stop if any police officer signaled him to otherwise he would blow his ass out!
FBA was hissing as he recounted his experiences to me.He said and I quote “okada no b beta job”.HE makes nothing less than 3,500naira each day but he comes across a lot of mind boggling things he wants to change his job.Not too long ago he picked up this pretty looking hiply dressed chic.Half way into the ride the girl started rubbing her breasts on his back and put her hands on his penis.Old papa wey neva kpansh for like 6years,he lost control of the bike,his whole body was sexually charged.That is another class of passengers he comes across.Girls that don’t want to pay in cash but in kind for their transport fare.He said an average okada man gets quickies everyday from this girls in broad daylight!(charizard u might want to start this business o) They are the promiscuous type who practice “aristocrazy” on a base level.The rest of mankind trade with money they still practice trade by barter using their pussy as the means of exchange.
My ears where full I told him to stop cos I was afraid he would tell me he knows where obama’s babalawo resides.Hope y’all loved my comeback post.Yeah I got a blogger who is sort of new.please cheer her up shes never got a comment on her blog

Wednesday, April 29, 2009


If you reside in Nigeria especially Lagos then you must have heard spoken word atleast once unless you don't have a
TV-probably you have been crushed by economic recession for the last 3years or you are a deeper life member.Otherwise
you must have heard the signature oral rendition of poetry on Hip TV by sage.That is spoken word.
Like any other art
it is a vent for expression.Spoken word is like hiphop without beats(though attimes it is accompanied by mild sounds
from mostly the konga)with dense lyrics,conscious content layed out in rhymes and rythmes.It is spoken poetry!It
thrives on oratory prowess as the poem must be heard,rhymes felt and the rhythme with the help of the mastery of tone
-timing,stress,silence e.t.c deliver the intended impact on the listeners.Don't be puzzled you don't know spoken word.
It is not globally well known like it's counterparts hiphop and rap.It is chiefly alive amongst the african americans.
Talib Kweli,Tupac,The last poets e.t.c are tad examples of black american spoken word poets.there is just a thin line
between spoken word and hip hop(note,hip hop not rap).They are both a state of mind,employ poetry but the former is
deeper.In the 1960's,The Last Poets brought spoken word to limelight but it faded to obscurity years later.Then in the
1990's Michael Algonquin brought it back on the horizon and since then the sky has been its limit.The music business
mogul-Russell Simmons,holds an annual word slam competition for spoken word poets with thousand in attendance;a sort
of American Idol.But beyond the african american romance with spoken word,spoken word has been around since the
rudimentary ages of man when he wasn't civilised enough to write so poetry had to be done orally.
Like other afro american music cultures-Jazz,Rap,Hip hop e.t.c,Spoken word has also filtered down to Nigeria.In a
journalistic quest to probe this happening,I tried to overturned the Olumo rock all in a bid to make sure I left no
stone unturned but all to no avail.Spoken word shot out of obscurity in Nigeria with Sage's performance at the 2006
Hip Hop World Awards.It was electrifying.Lagos,Nigeria was watching.Spoken word became a city on a hill,it could no
longer be hidden in Nigeria.Spoken word became the lighted torch that gave light to a whole room and pulled flies and
insects to it's orbit.Nigeria saw something new and poetic and thirsty souls were won over.Trailing the growth of
spoken word in Nigeria in the last 3years is foggy but it has grown from the nurturing of institutions like Goethe
Institut,British Council,African Art Foundation e.t.c who organize workshops and/or randevous-word slam,Wapi,Writer's
Anonymous respectively for spoken word poets to learn,develop,compete and interact.Though spoken word in Nigeria is
still a baby,it has already birthed talented spoken word artistes in the likes of Beautiful Nubia,Storytellers,Sage
Hasson,Jumoke Fola Alade e.t.c who have all released a spoken word album.
Spoken word is a serious form of art and it is apt for expressions of emotions-fraustration,hope,faith e.t.c of the
Nigerian.Hopefully,it is here to stay.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009


Has anyone been to Yaba market recently?It’s notoriety for filth,cacophony of obnoxious noise(especially in the blazing afternoons),choking traffic,fraustrating beggars,crime and criminals is beginning to fade.Whether these positive changes are happenning because of the sabotaged,sorry,(story for another day) bulldozing and rebuilding of the commercial nub of Yaba-the “shopping mall”; which has rendered many jobless and drastically reduced the economic activities there hence ebbed the wave of people into Yaba,I’m not certain but what I know is that I like the new face of the central market and my lovely governor has a hand in it.Yaba is neat and decorus with a freer flow of traffic plus the roundabout has been decorated and there is a sculptured red iconic cap of the previous governor of Lagos state-Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu on the circular dais of the roundabout.If you reside in Lagos then you should know Tinubu always wears the yoruba attire called buba and sokoto and crowns it with a cap which is like a longer fez with woven designs in varying colours but in a pattern that is now unmistakable his signature.Whether you agree or not,he has deftly branded that cap to many Nigerians as his image.It is iconic.It represents him.I have no problem with this and I like him because I think he is a politican in the real sense of the word but what baffles me is that of all monuments,why is it his cap at the Yaba roundabout?
Physically,the cap does beautify the buzzing area but psychologically and politically I think it insults the people of Lagos.I consulted knowledge and history and they told me that monuments and statues are built for a man as a symbol of his greatness.Ceasar’s statue,Mandela’s statue in Jo’bourg,Awolowo’s statue in Ondo,Sango’s statue used by NEPA et al are tad examples of a man’s greatness and influence publicly proclaimed by a grand image.I don’t intend Asiwaju is not a great man but a well deserved and appreciated monument is unanimously called for by the general public to honour a man that has stood for general good of mankind and has positively and significantly influenced peoples lives.Take a cue from the late M.K.O Abiola.Nigerians at home and in the diaspora have demanded that he should be immortalised.June12 has continued to be observed as a political ritual to true democrazy and Abiola’s memory despite the government’s warning.The Teslim Balogun stadium in Surulere was also asked to be named after him.Well I don’t know if u called for a statue in honour of Asiwaju but I didn’t ,my neighbour mama Suliat didn’t and I know at least 12million of the Lagos populace didn’t.So who put the statue there and why?As far as I am concerned Sir Otedola is the best and most honourable governor of Lagos state so far.His tenure produced a huge chunk of the medium housing estates in Lagos plus without EFCC on his neck he left office with no Lagos state funds in his possession.Everybody knows his dignity has earned him a name amongst the Lagos politicians.A statue in his honour on the circular dais on Yaba roundabout would be accepted by me.
Writers write as an authority and expect readers to learn a thing or two from their piece but I am writing this not as an authority but as an inquirer,a student in search of answers.I am puzzled. “Why is that cap there?”Someone please tell me!You might be wondering why I’m fretting over a non-living thing but the truth is that the cap does talk.It is saying Tinubu is not in gubernatorial office but he governs Lagos state.The cap arrogantly proclaims the gripping might of Tinubu on Lagos state.It publicly proclaims him a political godfather.Nomatter the number of Obamas that campaign in the next Lagos state gubernatorial elections we all know the elected governor will be an AC candidate.AC is doing fine o but we have not yet attained true democarazy.Our government is not yet by,for and of the people…..I ask again “Who put the cap there and why?”

Tuesday, March 24, 2009


Here is a poem I wrote for you guys,hope you love it!

She is a few inches lengthier than my palm.
Like a lioness on a prowl
She lies on the floor
With a 6inch heel that pushes her butt up.
She wears a black crocodile leather skinned suit
Within she is laced with red suede underwear.

Looking down at her
I see her curves
Like the figure eight.
She wears a J shaped penchant
It’s the crest for Jimmy Choo.
She robs a bleaching cream called Kiwi
That makes her shine like a black lambo in a showroom.

Tempted to touch
I caress her
Skin on skin
The succulent waist
The thick hips
The firm buttocks….
They all smell,smell
Chocolate.yes chocolate.

Thursday, February 26, 2009


Seriously I don't know what is wrong with me.I'm supposed to upload the concluding part of the story but I'm not just in the mood.I pick up a pen but my fingers refused to write.I got the rest of the story in my head but my heart has refused to will.I just feel I owe it to you guys to upload,thats why I'm here.My life has been a blast recently,I'm loving life and all but there just seem to be this underlying tone of unsatisfaction.What next?What do I do with my life?Right now I'm loving writing and yeah I still need a job o(writing job)but in 9ja you can't rely on only writing to survive.I'm so talented and interested in so many things I'm confused about what to focus my future on...By the way,is there anybody in canada here,I need help,google can't seem to solve it!

Monday, February 2, 2009


I am very sorry its taken me a long while to upload but I just believe you guys know I don’t want it that way,its just stuffs that her militating against me jare.Here’s the continuation.I even uploaded this in a hurry,not as good as I scripted it.
The door of the sitting room opens slowly.Victoria’s hourglass frame staggers in slowly as if her legs could not support her frame much longer.She pauses after the threshold,looks around the exquisitely furnished sitting room pregnant with Italian marble floors,Sony home theatre system,Gorgio Armani furnitures,Chinesechandeliers,a Yamaha grand organ,an original michaelangelo painting and artifacts made exquisite by history and rarity.Beautiful Beethoven symphonies aired through the Sony doulby surround speakers but there was no prince to make her dance like Cinderella at the ball.The Gorgio Armani sofas weren’t cossy anymore.For a while she has not had sex on them while being caressed and kissed allover.The Armani seats looked no different from locally made baba silifah chairs.Michaelangelo’s masterpiece looked like a bunch of naked vagabonds with wings.Vanity upon vanity!”Money can’tbuy happiness” Victoria said to herself or maybe her distant husband who couldn’t hear her.I’m not sure of which.
Victoria was pulled out of her thoughts by screams emanating from two amiable mites scampering towards her.”Mommy,mommy,oyoyo”.Their beaming chocolate round faces had to large eyes,puffy cheeks and a set of teeth with the incisors missing.Victoria feigns a smile and with her left hand brushes them aside as if to clear her path.They reach out for her skirt in an attempt to hug her but she fumbles through and crashes in the nearest sofa with a loud sigh.She doesn’t have their time today,she is troubled.Demola rushes intothe living room,cites Victoria,exhausted,staring upwards,drowning in thoughts oblivious of the chattering adorable mites around her.He packs them to their room,lays them on the bed,covers them with the sheet,puts a pair of scissors on the bed just above their heads and commands them to sleep.They slept!It’s like magic.When they see the scissors the always sleep if not,ojuju calabar will come from nowhere,pick up the scissors and chop off their “kokoro”(Yoruba slang for penis).Kids,so na├»ve.Demola strolls back to the sitting room,stares gravely at Victoria and sits close to her left with his right arm stretching out on the heard rest of the sofa.He said nothing but gave Victoria a piercing gaze so sharp that his eyes spoke.Yes,I am sure,his eyes spoke.They said something like “Poor thing.Sorry,I am so sorry:.Victoria was so stabbed by the gaze she erupted.”Why? Why me?Does segun want to kill me?I am not asking for too much,am I?Just a little more of my husband,MY HUSBAND’S time!”Her body rocked as she erupted,ejecting the hot larva she has bottled up.Her desperation vented through the perspiration that broke out her forehead,tears that brimmed her eyes and violent gesticulations.She soliloquized on and on but Demola said nothing.His silence was comforting.It was that kind of silence that spoke.”I am here with you.Don’t worry,it will be alright”.Finally someone was listening to her.She was as exhausted as a baby that cried itself to sleep.Demola still said nothing and remained still.He maintained his fixed gaze on Victoria’s tender face which was now resting on his right shoulder.For 33minutes he remained still and watched the somnolent Victoria as she drifted in and out of sleep but with every passing minute,Victoria’s heavy breasts(which were his Achilles heel) pressed harder on his right chest stirring lust within him.He grew hard,his heart beat faster and his body temperature increased.Should he or should he not?But his penis was doing the thinking now.He slide his hand underneath Victoria’s shirt.At that moment she gained consciousness and looked puzzled at what was happening but she didn’t really have the willpower to refuse him.She also wanted this…..
“omo you don make me fall in love” A timely call comes in and interrupts the adultery but by now Demola’s fingers were in her pants.She just moaned.Fortunately,taiye wakes and staggers into the snogging room.Victoria froze!Eyes wide opened and Demola retreated fast.Taiye walks up to Victoria and says “Mommy whats wrong with your leg?Why is uncle Demola scratching it fast fast?”She couldn’t gather the courage to answer.She receded in to her room and wept bitterly.Demola,disappointed and ashamed walks out of the house.All night Victoria cried to God to forgive her and prayed that he would help her.In the morning,she decides to leave for Abuja with the kids unannounced to her husband.The distance issue had to be settled urgently before something worse happens.She was dejected and sad.With a scattered hair,no make up and no perfume on she scurried her 2boys into her 2008 Toyota camry ready to leave to go book for the flight.Little did she know that was the last time she would drive the car...
Ehnehn people,I need a job oooo.A writing job preferably.It's time to be me-wellsbaba lol