Tired Eyes.

I see those eyes.
Beautiful eyes.
Eyes that are black,
darker than tanned African skin.
Eyes that are lustrous,
Eyes that exhibit effervescence.
Eyes that call you,
when you look, not at them, but into them.

Soft eyes.
Eyes that seem so fragile.

Broken eyes.
Eyes that have recorded shattered dreams.
Eyes that have been shattered, themselves.
Eyes that have cried the tears of broken hearts.

Sad eyes.
Eyes that have seen happiness leave.
Eyes that have seen the ends of beautiful beginnings
Eyes that are melancholic.
Eyes that have seen the Light,
yet drowned in darkness.

Tired eyes.
Eyes that have grown weary of tearing,
Eyes that have seen it all, you name it.

Eyes that are tired.

Eyes that are mine.

Personal : On Not Being Able To Write.

You stare at the screen in near disbelief,
Your eyes twinkling in excitement,
Because you are finally writing,
Those demons have finally set you free.
You no longer have writer’s block
That bastard writer’s block.
That phase has passed,
Those days that multiplied into weeks; weeks, into months,
Without any damn thing to put down.
No inspiration; it seemed to have grown wings and flown away,
To better minds.

And so you grab your device, and place a call to your friend,
To share your immense joy.
“Yo! You wouldn’t believe what just happened!
I wrote something; I freaking wrote some shit down!”
And in the same vein, she asks,

“So what did you write?!”

“Read it out, my fren!”

And you glance back at your laptop screen, and realise that you have actually written shit down.
It’s not worth reading.
It never will.



I think you’re getting proud‎.

Maybe you think you have it all;
Because you can sing almost flawlessly,
When someone comes upstage, you show lazy interest
If the person does something wrong, you scoff,
As if the person has no worth.
You are not perfect, are you?
Because you can write now, we won’t hear word.
You no longer have time to read anything that isn’t written by ‘Renowned African authors
Didn’t they all start from somewhere?
Didn’t you?
You no longer have time for that person,
who just started a blog.
    “No patience for mediocrity”
What a bitch.
Listen carefully –
Do not forget where you came from,
Do not forget your starting point.
Do not measure other people’s pace,
With your own tape.
Do not judge, based solely on your standards.
Prove me wrong,
And get rid of your pride.

Birthday Behaviour.

Being 16 was full of its perks. But that is not for today.

Today, I am 17.
I am a writer. Although I haven’t written anything worthy of sight in ages, and if you ask me if I write, the “no” is at my lips’ tips, I am still a writer. A writer, yesterday, today, tomorrow and the days to come. I will never stop writing, growing, and getting better. I’m moving ahead. Dami Ajayi said something like ‘For every 1 hour of writing, 10 hours of reading.’ That helps with “writers block” .(I hate that word though). Thank God for my friends who understood and got me a lot of books. I can’t wait.
I’m a photographer. A photographer, without a camera. Today, I start to save for a really good one. I see so much beauty, in the littlest things, like the way the headlights at Owode glisten. I do not think that is something very common. There are epiphanies in things, and we will see them if we just look. Even intricate details in some things. Ah, life is beautiful.
I am fat. Now, there are people, and there are people. People who say, ahan, your arms are sha big o, your laps are too fat, when did you gain all this weight? and people who say  you’re not fat, biko. Where did you get that ridiculous idea from? With a laugh that leaves me confused as to what to beleive. But to be on the safe side, I have begun exercise, and dieting.  
I am a Christian. Christ himself lives in me. Over the course of my Christian journey, I have come to learn that I can never be too busy for God. There is no such excuse. Also, it is important to be a Christian, in, and out. Don’t go and be tweeting orisirisi about grace, faith, and the rest but you cannot even remember to commune with God in the morning. Do not give most of your time to material things e.g money, because they depreciate with time. See now, money is depreciating, dollar av cost. Give your time to spiritual thing, things of the spirit, because they appreciate.
I’ve been asked countless times today, ‘ahan, you are not going anywhere?” and my answer is no. I have decided to go on a retreat somewhat, to do a lot if thinking, about ways I can be productive, and most importantly, grow.
And so, on the 20th of June, 2016, something new, and beautiful, begun.


The Microphone

“I don’t know, I just don’t know, Tunde would never be perceived by me to be a murderer, I’m not sure I could ever believe it”
“I’ve always said that the term wolf in sheep’s clothing isn’t to be taken lightly, that bastard has murdered 3 people, and still tries to deceive us. Hang him!”

Mr Tunde Barbing, 57, a American/Nigerian citizen, is a graduate of the University of Essex, and obtained an LLM from the University of Cambridge. He is the son of Bishop Michael Barbing of the HolyLife Church. He currently sits on the board of 8 companies including the football team Akoka F.C and Highrise Cement Plc. His law firm Barbing Partners has been frequently acknowledged on the IFLR1000 rating of law firms for over 10 years, with a specialization in commercial law and oil and gas, power and energy law. He is well-known and loved…

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For Prospective MIC MEN at the MM70

The Microphone

So, there’s been all this talk about MM70 and why and how it’s going to live up to the audacious acclaim and status it already seems to have garnered even before its maiden edition is under way.
Well, every detail of the MM70 stands on its own as novel and frighteningly ingenious (are we even allowed to say all these ourselves? I’m beginning to hear Tony Stark’s voice in my head).

There’s one teensy weensy, tiny, tinini, detail that all contestants in a public speaking competition definitely need …. A TOPIC!

Well, Jones & Tobolos, being who they are… that is, of course, Jones & Tobolos! ….. Have failed to come up with topics for the competition! And in there dire laziness and profound love for all things laissez faire have generally left it to the Contestants to come up with their own topics!


Well, what…

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Create Your Reality.

IMG_20160515_072503I think the worst thing in life is to live without ever doing that thing you’ve always wanted to do, without taking that risk, without using that amazing talent you have.


I’ve seen people/had friends who once told me about great things they could do i.e sing, write, sketch etc, but they wouldn’t let their talent show because they’re shy -_-, or because they thought they weren’t good enough.

You should not think your special ability isn’t something worth being proud of, or that people will not ‘get’ it, because in the end, it is you who matters. No one is responsible for your happiness, and you cannot build your self-worth on what people say, or do.


When I first started photography, almost no one appreciated it. It was funny really, because sometimes people stopped to stare at this girl taking pictures of trees, or the sunset, or the streets. Sometimes, people even hissed, or snickered. “What do you think you’re doing?” someone asked once.IMG_20160427_174513

But that never dettered me. Even fo the fact that when I first started, it wasn’t ‘up-to-standard’, it didn’t have that thing i needed to see, it didn’t bother me.



Because that’s part of what should actually push you to up your game, to do more, to take your abilities to the level you want them to be.‎

Create your reality. Create the life you want to experience.‎

IMG_20160521_091453You’re allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress simultaneously. ‎

The talons of sleep.

The LaughingUniverse

Shebi you want to sleep? Sleep oh your mates have gone for class be there. They committed an offence by moving your own till later in the after noon. Open your book and be under the covers in A/C be reading oh let deception sink its talons deep in your head and possess the sanity out of you.

Shebi you want to sleep? Sleep and they’ll kick you out of the conducive hostel you are in and they’ll put you in school hostel. Your mates are on 4 points and first classes and you have no GP. You have a fresh slate to start great and you want to sleep. Mumu.

Shebi you want to sleep? Sleep fahhh be forming you don’t have motivation, you don’t feel good, you’re feeling sick, your tummy hurts, your body bangs. Laziness is what is hurting you. Sleep, others are meeting people getting opportunities…

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How she won

The LaughingUniverse

She couldn’t see her beauty cause society hadn’t seen it yet. She couldn’t hear her voice cause society hadn’t heard it yet. She couldn’t move her feet cause society hadn’t moved it yet. She couldn’t dance and sing cause society hadn’t played it yet. Society was her right of way but it hadn’t given her the right or way to transport herself in leeway or to even mould herself like clay. She was beaten and battered, unconsciously it all crumbled and scattered. The very walls that defined her quarters became like sharp brutal shutters.. clamping clamping clamping her away. Inch by inch day by day. All her lips could ever say were sorry and sorry and no way. Grey silence became her new personality, her glow and spirit were dulled in finality. No one seemed to understand the gravity of this subtle yet hideous depravity. Wasn’t she a human worthy of love?…

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3:15 AM {II}

I need jeans, I don’t have any.”

“I need a new sponge, I’ve been using this red one for months.”
“There’s no toothpaste. Water has finished. Oh God!”
I sat in silence, listening to my family put their requests on the table, literally, because that was all we could do. We never had what we wanted.
We were a family of nine. Mother gave birth to far too much than our finances could handle; Toni says to me sometimes, in whispers.
Most times, it was just Mom, Dad, Teni and Teju at home. The rest of us stayed in school and barely returned for holidays, trying to escape that atmosphere of lack. But like a phantom, it sort of trailed us everywhere, it was ever near.
When we were younger, we would sit around the big, orange, plastic table in the sitting room and talk about the time when we’d all be in Universities and it would just be‎ the parents and the last born, Teju, at home. The unspoken hope we all held in our hearts was that by then we must have had our ‘big breakthrough’ and we would be living in the lap of luxury.
Sigh. I sigh now, that I think of this, because nothing has changed. Nothing ever does.
Oh, wait.
Yes, nothing except the spiritual atmosphere. We needed answers to our prayers and we weren’t getting any, so our prayers began to weaken. Daddy stopped attending all the mid-week services and mummy stopped going for MFM’s Fight to Finish on Thursdays. When Segi tells me, her voice dripping with disdain, that our now prayerlessness means that we were only serving God for his blessings, and nothing else, I want to pick up a big, dirty stone and break her head. But I do not say anything. I do not even look at her, because I am afraid. My mother has put the spirit of timidity into me, I must say.
10:24 AM
For lack of nothing to do, I take out my earphones and listen to my best jam, The Work Of The Blood. The woman singing the song must be an angel. I turn the volume up to the highest because the song gets to me. It gets to a part where she says Christ stood in the way for her, her sins, and the devil couldn’t accuse her anymore. Yes, that is the part. The part where I want to channel the feeling I’m having into something; sing, shout or scream. The part where I can surely feel a power in me, filling me with some kind of boldness and belief in the words. The part where I have goosebumps. The part I love most.
But as I listen now, I wait for the goose bumps, but they never come.