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Tuesday, 29 May 2018

A sip 5

"Amma bout to cum" the words escape from your lips and u aren't even aware. 
I chuckle deep within me, i say welcome to the land whose existence you seem not to have been made aware. 

Like target practice, you hit my face with all of your juice. 
A beautiful fountain, there you lay, hyperventilating with sounds like a track produced by juls. 
You smile shyly towards me, ur legs still trembling. 
I smile to myself, seemingly saying "WehDoneSir

A sip 4

Your reply ever so invigorating, "Amma let the neighbors know ur name".
I find that G, and i play them softly like strings. 
Sensual music, ur back up... giving that marvin gaye feeling. 
A few more strokes, my rhythm upped... like am in a poker room card dealing. 

A sip 3

My Tongue does a 360 on your clit, Your moan is up a notch... music to my ears in a rhythm ever so pulsating. 
My hands begin an adventure, searching for the spot with a G on it. 
"Keep it down baby" i whisper, in a bid to keep u tame. 

A sip 2

So much sass, increasing my urge to thread the needle. 
Your eyes shut in anticipation, only the spirits see what i'n about to do. 

Your Toes curl, leading to a proportional increase in warmth and moist. 
No flag can fly at half mast with you, my soldiers got mine fully on hoist. 

A sip 1

One leg in d east.. the other in the west, directly facing your equator, bluntly staring in its face...
It opens up, am bout to exchange kisses wit both of ur labias... hoping to swim in its pool with heavenly rhythmic pace...
Its a no grass zone, a perfect haircut giving it a yummy face. 
It calls with poise and grace. 

Monday, 28 May 2018

Do Not 'HIGH' 5 The Syrup Clan.

Meditate... Meditate... Meditate...
Instead of Medicate... Medicate... Medicate.
It's about 8 in the AM, but 'eyes never clear for Kate'.
She's on a dosage that the physician never signed off on.
One Benylin and sprite twice or thrice daily gives her the feeling that she's sailing.
But to where? She'll never really know.
The repercussions of this seed she doesn't really know.
The god of addiction has struck her with his arrow that flew at a nasty angle off his bow.
So now all she sees is slow, all her brain aches for is that numbness ... It's at a stage she can't control.
Her journey into the 'rup clan was smooth and steady.
10 dwarfie bottles in a party standing next to 10 mighty carbonated bottle of drinks.
A chemistry titration where the titre value is how high can we go.
The indicator... The slow feeling knocked upon to the brain.
Here all the pain seems to go away.
Like the prodigal son going even more astray.
Never to return... As the journey to an unknown land has begun without the Sojourner even taking notice.
Somebody say No please.
The backdoor escape for suffering or psychological trauma is not codeine.
Yet I live In a society where disruptive behaviour disorder is termed as evil and demonic spirits.
Split personality disorder is ogbanje or mammy water.
'Well, wetin man wan do'... This is Nigeria.
'Coda bottles full all of the area'.
All of the time a young lad or lass feels caged, one of their peer passes him the lean... We slowly killing ourselves, Kung-Fu kicks to our ribcages.
It's now a recreational beverage.
The further they climb, the harder it is to withdraw.
Soon enough the camel's back is broken with the last straw.
Those pullings the strings of the addicted are the winners and like the Champions League final, there are no draws.
They are the clan, dangling the cheese of codeine in front of addicted mice.
They fail to provide a platform.
Yet cry wolf for the same minds they have deformed.
They pump money into the business on code.
Reaping in back, ripping us off like flesh off toads.
Yet, this is a story which would never be told.
They love us dead in the head just to get ahead.
Yes... That goes for your dead beat pharmacies who leak the ish behind curtains.
You know the drawbacks, yet with that same cane you flog our bare backs.
Lean would never get fatter if the clan close the channels.
It booms because they provide the funnels.
Yet they want accolades for banning said drugs, when we know it's a ploy to jack up the price of said drugs on the street.
More coins in their money bags, shamefully for them that's lit.
This again is Nigeria.
Abeg, do not high 5 the syrup clan.

Tuesday, 22 May 2018


It's 5:33 PM and rain drops are crashing on my window.
I'm in the shower where I often think the most clear and the world often spins slow.
Big Brother's wedding is in a lil' bit, all I can think 'bout is what if it was me getting hooked for life.
David Asikpata Omoighoje found a woman and he found a wife.
It sends a shiver down my spine and now I know probably how big brother must be feeling.
Alittle nervous I suppose.
A life long commitment whom no one can oppose.
The water takes a journey to the bathroom floor via my torso and I begin to imagine my own wedding.
I don't really dig it big, but it's her day so lets bang the drums and make loud sounds.
From the altar I gaze upon the aisle and behold she emerges in flowing white.
If the choir could sing EdSheeran's perfect it would magnificent, I'm by the altar in a burgundy suit with black lapels thinking to myself that my queen is indeed a beautiful sight.
I'm focused on her and somehow the congregation fades away.
In my head am reciting my vows, hoping to spit 'em like a rappers bars when I finally say 'em.
It is such bliss which I can't just waste with just any miss.
My mind drifts to the women who would probably point to me and say I led them on.
I put it all on the table before we went ahead to do what thou wilt.
For most of them I'd probably say it's a shame our love went on tilt.
No fault of mine that's why I always tried to keep it real.
Like a highlight reel it all flashes in front of my face.
She who would point fingers at me forgetting we were often cut up by so many states.
We desired each other and of cos we were knee deep on something akin to what y'all call love.
She always thought she was in the boat alone, and I like a puppet master joyfully pulled her strings.
I guess at my wedding that would all be in the past and like Prince Harry I'd joyfully invite my ex-es without bad blood.
The reception gonna be lit and something tells me by that time I'd be into roses for some wierd reason.
Dance Dance Dance Season.
I sure hope she can rock the dance floor else that would mean I'd be taking two trophies home.
It's 6:13, I am fully clothed now, legs crossed on my study table.
I can solely conclude now and this is in no way a fable.
Love is sweet and weddings are always beautiful.

Monday, 21 May 2018


A lady started visiting four days ago, a dark, slim, coke-body lady, she is about 6''1 in height and relatively beautiful. Segun was extra happy to see her, he screamed her name from the balcony, "Temiloluwa!" - he sounded so romantic, I was almost convinced that the lady was the special one, the lady, on the other hand, dropped her bag in euphoria, jumped to hug Segun, she seem genuinely happy, her smile as bright as the sun, reminds me of my favorite daughter Tolu. Segun dragged me out of my delusion when he registered his signature aggressive breast squeezing, I was not disappointed. It took shorter than longer to hear the sexual noise, this new girl is indeed a noise maker, her voice was as loud as Tina Turner, I turned to check if my nanny heard the noise, she didn't, frozen in the poorly produced movie, laughing hysterically at their whack dialogues - she was totally unperturbed. Temiloluwa tormented me with her noise
"yes yes yes, right there, don't stop" were few among the words I could hear clearly, my impaired ears had no choice. I think some other things have been added to sex in this age, women in my days were silent moaners, something like a burning stove, we did the noise making.
Image result for abstract of an old man on a wheelchair
Temiloluwa left at dusk, I overheard him trying to convince her to stay, they talked so loudly like I was some breathing corpse, they are unaware the amount of info they carelessly blowing out.

Temiloluwa coming became a regularity, the following day, she came earlier, at about 9am when I was just settling in for my balcony viewing, they could not wait to get in, he carried her like a child, kissed her as he bounced her ass against his crotch! Weirdos! The noise torment came early and she left again at dusk.

Yesterday blew my mind, This two children of the devil had sex in the car, there were in the car blasting the stereo playing some fast beat music with a peculiar dance, she was trying to teach Segun, the dance has funny moves but it is quite interesting, she called it Shaku Shaku, that the last I checked meant "remains" - it is not a good word to describe anything, I wonder why an interesting dance could be named after it. She danced continuously till Segun could catch up with the dance and together, they choreographed it, I was happy to see that Mr Segun to was doing something other than sex till the two miscreants turned the dance into some erotic affair, Temiloluwa launched the erotic moves, pressing her ass seductively against his crotch, Segun not knowing what to do - simply pressed back! The move became intense, even my own old, wrinkled and weak penis began to act funny, they began to kiss, opened the back seat of the car, continued in the kissing, Temi already was without pant, both of them on getting in the car, an instant bouncy movement launched from the car. That could mean only one thing - Sex (in broad daylight and in front of a watching old man). I find it unfair and immoral but they don't care, lull from the playing stereo will let you know how loud the girl is with feigned noises. The left at dusk on this day too.

My granddaughter from Tolu (everyone call her Lolu) was said to be arriving from the U.K, seeing all I saw with Segun, I vowed to make sure she stays far away from the Magodo abode, at least somewhere I won't have to see her been a prey to the likes of ignoramus like Segun. I do not have a clear picture of Lolu, I saw her last as a child the last time I visited, She is twenty-two now, growing fast, she pestered her mother that she wants to come and see me, after long; Tolu agreed which is why she is got to the next plane to Nigeria.

I was asleep when my grand-daughter came in, I woke early in the morning today, got cleaned by my useless nanny and I looked forward, I was sitting as usual in my wheelchair in the living room being fed pap and milk. I ate a lot of it since it is probably going to be my only meal of the day. Lolu came through and knelt in front of me, it was first blurring as I raised my eyes to behold her...

I saw my granddaughter and I almost died, I coughed severely, everyone wondered why, my body shook hard and I had goosebumps all over me, it was TemiLOLUwa from the past three days. I was taken away as commanded by my daughter to get cleaned as I have puked all over myself, the young girl had the most pretentious face and it is killing me. The miscreant I have been watching for the past three days is my own blood?

I cannot take it, I am getting rush from this event, it unfathomable, I am running nuts, I don't have the ears of my family, none of them have the patience to listen to my shaky, weak and tiring talks. Oh! what old age has done to me! Trying to tell them will either end in bickering arguments or taken frivolously as they will take it that I am hallucinating or just blame something on old age. I can only reach Tolu her mother on the grant of my last daughter. I don't want Segun to continue body hitting my daughter, I cannot have it! SOMEBODY HELP ME.


Image result for abstract of an old man on a wheelchair
It is not fun being old, it strips you off so many things, even the right to be involved in the lives of your wards. I am a 94years old man, with a weak spine, thus I am usually either laid on my bed or sitting or seated in my wheelchair. My wife died six years back, I guess she got tired of old age and its excesses, I have been alone ever since, sickened with partial stroke, my hearing deteriorated early this year, I am something close to hapless if not for the full house I do have twice a day. I am a man with a lot of kids, I have a dozen of them - three legally, others from external affairs, blame it on the lone and psyche duty of being a soldier. I created wealth for myself the way I can, fortunately for me, they were legal, I was a soldier in an era where serving your country was a noble and gainfully employed job. You can move up in ranks make good money, if managed well; it could become a long time wealth considering the value and purchasing power of the Naira at that time. I was a property freak so I have a credible number of properties, I am a proud ten house owner in various state spread in the country. Good rent money from this houses helped me see my children through school, most of them are gainfully employed individuals but these harsh times cannot aid me to certify if their wealth is legal.
I am stationed in my favorite house in the Magodo residency of the opulent Lagos, a four bedroom flat in the uppercase with few apartments downstairs which I rent to Lagosians in need. Magodo is a rich neighborhood with few international standard amenities, compared to the recently built houses in the area; mine is an old building. Old as it may, it still a valuable asset and a good money making machine annually. 

A new tenant came in just last month, his name is Segun, dark, bearded and with a lot of athletic features, I did not like him at all, it was a trust issue, I have a tenacious instinct that construed to be a harm to my house but my over-sabi last daughter accepted him into the house without even seeking my permission, I guess I am too old to even own my property. I suspect her drastic acceptance of the young man is based on looks and the exotic Mercedez Benz smart car that he drove in; that made him an instant tenant, the type she will want to be around. During my heyday, I will ask the nature of the job of any prospective tenant, I will go to his claimed workplace to confirm, use my military orientation to ensure that he is not a potential harm, I even make the tenants' sign undertaking. All of my measures of hitch-free control of affairs is considered archaic and have long been thrown in the lagoon. It is why all sort of madness occur but old age has hindered me, I am too weak, the only strength I have to just sit back and watch.

Since my daughter was dumb enough to accept someone I detest, I took it upon myself to put an eye on Sege as he loves to call himself. When my families are not around all day, I am kept in the balcony, the useless nanny will equip me early in the day with all she believe I will need and just go about watching the Africa Magic Yoruba channel on the cable, she pays zero attention to, she gets so engulfed with the movie and literally forget I exist till my folks are back, at that time, she began an annoying eye-service, pampering me like a little child. I cannot complain, my speech is deterred by my partial stroke, my folks will pay her handsomely at the end of the month for a job wickedly done. Due to this, I assume that I am home alone till my children are back at dusk.

From the said balcony though, I have an eagle, I see so many things that you cannot imagine, virtually everything happening in my environment, only if these people can seek my contribution and be patient enough to read my mumbling speech. I began to watch Segun closely, he settled in good, he was a loud person, if he is not playing loudly in his apartment, he plays the highly provocative music through his sleek car stereo, he drinks a lot too, I sometimes perceive some funny odour from his apartment, this odour comes on the hot of day when no one is around, I am yet to determine what it is exactly. Segun hardly goes out, he wakes at noon, I doubt if he sleeps all through the night, on some days, he will be at the veranda and be on his computer for hours, I mean long hours with utmost seriousness. I asked my daughter what kind of job has such as suspicious ethic, she answered with a wide range of what it could be, leaving me with nothing definite to believe, her equivocal answer did not satisfy my curiosity, in fact, it fuelled it.

Some days are happy days for Segun, he will have friends come around, they will have a very lavish but homely celebration, this party will traditionally get bigger as more friends will come with girls in their dozens, alcoholic drinks strongly present, they will order food, smoke something from a hose and cylinder ( I do not know what it is called), the  daily odour I perceive on these party days get konk and almost choking. Their happiness can be likened to a newly won war, they have a phrase that is in a loop all through the party - "cash out king'' is the phrase. This party ends with girls getting cash for attending, some girls are taken away like some souvenirs, the young men get horribly drunk especially when they take cough syrups, I think there is a wide-spread of a cough amongst young men in this time, they will struggle to  go to their various homes, Segun, on the other hand, is left with minimum of two girls as his own portion of the shared female. I suspect the mediocrely beautiful and attractive girls are those that don't get to be booked.

Aside from party days, Segun is a serial fornicator, by counts, I have seen him with thirty-two girls in the forty-four days. It is a despicable situation especially when three different girls will come at intervals on a particular day. I wonder how he gets them, his most fondest activity is when he walks to the gate to joyfully open the gate for his 'happy' prey, pay the cab driver and greet me as they saunter into his apartment (I need to mention that he fondle on this ladies breast in a way due to being regarded as abused, only girls with good breast and well-moulded buttocks come to see Segun). Few minutes after the grand reception, it is high octave noises that break the divine peace of Magodo. Loud moans definitely from sexual intercourse. I wonder where he gets the strength for so many females, I cannot judge him so much, I was for the girls back in the days but compared to Segun; I feel like an amateur. Those girls are either making those noises from good stroking or for the good pay they are bound to get after the rendevouz.

Sunday, 20 May 2018

My void 5

The day I answere all these Questions is the day I know my true porpose of existence
So I turn around..

My void 4

Then it occoured to me, even nothing is something.
The gate, nothing ever comes through there,

My void 3

Hoping that all that was lost would someday emerge
My body, tired of waiting, the burden of hoping...

My void 2

I once had hope
My soul, lost with the wind of darkness..

My void 1

There I stand, at the gate
Hoping that soon is I shall be let in..

Friday, 18 May 2018


I feel ill, a sickness of thumbing my phone.
I'm inside the internet, a home that's different from my own.
My hands are itchy, my data is out but somehow my phone is in my hands... I guess my Phone is sticky.
It's hard to admit but am addicted to living in this digital space where the earth is compressed into a global village.
I'm more connected than I once was, yet I've become more disconnected.
It's a paradox and yes it sucks, but I can't help but thumb away all day like my hands and phone were together in cuffs and locks.
Initially I had failed to realize it.
I've got every information literally at my fingertips, a swipe or a click.
My favourite stars don't only shine at night, even at daylight, they are always within sight.
So I follow their trail wishing their life was mine, coming to conclusion that my life was probably swine.
I'm now a stalker, in one hand I've got johnnie walker whilst drooling over melanin beauties and light skin damsels.
On it alot sells.
With a click those fresh pairs of sneaks could be on my feet.
On it there's coins in the pockets of business owners, but there's manipulation too... Pulling strings for Maximum profits, consumer's money has gone down the loo.
I'm synced to my phone like a google app, it's eating my time like a tasty snack... It's like cheese to mice, I'm in a very big trap.
I can't pullout and can't stand the withdrawal symptoms.
It would be like time traveling to the stone age, no one even reads hard covers anymore, it's so much work to flip a page.
I'm red with rage Knowing I've caught this bug, Feeling manipulated by Mr Zuckerberg.
The advance in tech has seemed to cause a wreck.
The negatives are clouding the positives, maybe going back to the garden would be safer? With my pelvic region covered by broad leaves.

So then How do I go on?
Knowing I'm in digital chains, my very consciousness orchestrated by what I assimilate.
Is it too late?
Do I just follow its tides oblivious of the location of shore.
It's all some sort of blur, I never knew how I got here.
The bigger question with a fat elephant in the room is... How do I get out?

Wednesday, 16 May 2018


As she did every night she sat at her window
Hoping to heavens the ghost of her daddy would be bestowed
Losing him so early in her life was an unbearable pain
Her heart left feeling like it had been slain
Slain with the blade of death which took her forever love
Looking up to the Heaven's asking why to God above
Every night as she sat at that window she cried tears of loneliness 
Longing for one last touch or one last gentle hug
As time passed on her daddy's ghost never did show
So she made a deal with the devil that resided in Hell below
She promised him she'd live in eternal damnation by his side
If she could just see her daddy oh just one more time
The next night as she sat next to the window in waiting
The devil knew that her happiness would be worth his parading
Parading of his deception that he presented and won her soul
But the devil presented himself as her father as a fake mould
She cried with happiness rejoicing in his presence 
But soon she started to realize that this wasn't her daddy's essence
Then the devil revealed his horrible face to her
Telling her that she sold her soul and would now forever burn
She hung her head in shame and begged as she wept
But the wicked devil of Hell took her soul and left

Monday, 14 May 2018

His sister my adeola 5

The gist was lit AF! And time flied like a saucer tearing up air resistance. Then it hit me, Adeola was still in the eoom and she must be uncomfortable AF. I had to think of a way to discharge this niggas.


'Wetin this boy find come sef'
As much as I tried to keep my cool, she could see me trembling.
'Dave, what's wrong'
'It's Segun, he says he's at my busstop...coming to my house'

Sunday, 13 May 2018

im insane

Image result for images of woman in shadowsi feel my lifeforce drain,
im in so much pain,
i never did anything to gain,
im never alive, im insane,
i walk with unimaginable fail,
my heart is stone, its sail,
its withered, seriously frail,
cant keep up, hard as nail,
i walk up to the box, i got a mail,
a mail full of a pail of pain,
Image result for images of woman in shadowsmaking me writhe, im hit with a cane,
struck me deep, utter disdain,
im trying to seek, im alone on my lane,
i dont need you, or even my insane,
i look up, i see my tattered mane,
blowing in the breeze, tattered remain,
ugly and empty, worse than a plain jane,
i lost my colour, its all but wane,
yet i rise from the ashes, only to crumble again.



I enrolled for masters without wasting time, my mother served it hot, I mastered in finance, did well as expected at the Oxford University, the United Kingdom, I chose from long list of companies that invited, I had my eyes on companies in New York, you need not guess why I wanted to experience the finance adventure in NY, I joined a company still on the rise, I wanted every sense of relevance and respect I can get.


The Mobola Gospel 


I met with the African Students In Detroit community, it is exactly what I needed, it is a mixture of Africans from every pole, I met a Nigerian too, an Igbo guy, his name is Chima, he was in his final year at the time, he was studying Medicine, fair, athletic and hairy nigger, he was a proud member of the beard gang, his well shaped and nourished beards with his usual lowcut gave him a look to kill for. He was every lady's delight, not just for looks but also his wonderful academic resume. For a minute, I thought we were going to be something, he gave me so much attention and poured into me a lot of orientation, we spent a lot of time together, those times were opened my since-blind eyes. "Pursue fiercely academic success and watch things turn around for you," he said very candidly on different occasions.

Diary of a Poet 8

The leaves crunch beneath her feet as she walks through the woods so dark
Image result for images of heart paintingJust aimlessly walking searching for her blackened heart
Saddened and hopeless she streams tears that turn to ice
Living her life by the roll of the tainted dice

Happy Mothers Day!

Image result for images of heart paintingTo all the women in this world, listen to me. 
God choose you girls in this life you see. 
The day that you came into this fine place. 
God blessed you with such unspeakable grace. 
Beginning young at first, watching her standing by. 
The woman in your life who you never saw cry. 
You learned it then as those times pushed you through. 
Made in the image of God, so perfect and true. 

Saturday, 12 May 2018


Related imageI was left by my mother at the University Of Detroit after five days. My first few times in the class almost made thank my mother for not making do the sciences, it dawned every time on me that education in my new world is not a child's play, I saw a signpost on my first day that reads "the best or nothing" - it reflected meaning as I went deeper. It was a hodgepodge of the best of minds from all walks of life, I was challenged and my morales almost flawed, my confidence for the first time flinched, I met students who I probably no life aside academia. The racial undertone also added to my early complex, the contemptuous nature of the white students and the counteractions of the other minorities, all were obvious although very subtle, it was a cold war where physical engagements were not allowed, the only way to put your colour ahead is to get into the good books of the school for mindblowing reasons, either scholastic or curricular achievements.


The Mobola's Gospel

The civilized breeze of the United State of America hit my skin, it was almost strange, a long thirteen hours straight flight and yet another to Detroit. In the company of mother, it was an upbeat chatty one, she talked so loudly and laughed as sarcastic as she can, co-passengers could deduce we were Nigerians and the not so educated type, the brunt of being a mother's child. Her fearless approach to communication catches the attention of the seemingly "too civil" Americans, it was like most of the things I saw on Tv were lies, the Americans were much into themselves that they don't talk to just anyone, my mother's engaging communication came in handy in the quest, it saved time and helped us with getting our way quick enough. Although with an unbaked English command and pseudo-American accent; she was able to attract needful attention. 


I carried the charged hardworking acumen into everything, I understood at an early age that I do not posses physical strength for anything, I was not skilled with my hands, therfore, I believed in my brain, I was exposed to environments and activities that required strictly the use of my brain, I don't remember lifting a bucket of water ever in my life, I was not a brat, I can do the traditional girl chores, my mother was hitler on that, I did cleaning, sweeping and other relative chores but with every form of amenities available. My brain is my strength, I worked on it every day to give me the competitive edge, I have always loved winning, I deal strictly with whatever comes in the way of that.


Hi Zoza 
I have been a loyal disciple of your wonderful platform for years, I have followed since its nascent formation and I am more than happy with what it had become, I have a lengthy autobiography of myself and the one time I experienced true love, I hope it makes it to the headline of your next blog post, I am positive it will as it is a love story distinctly different from what you have seen, read or feel, I beg for a minute of your time to follow this litany of events, critically consider it and decide if it is worth sharing. This I am about to share might even entertain you.

Thursday, 10 May 2018

my heart 3

Image result for sexy image of flamesYou must be either this or that.
But no one cares if am "a-this-ah?", "ah-bar-ba?" or even "that-ah?".
They never really gave a fvck and they would start giving free fvcks tomorrow.
Each man to his boat, i guess all i did was row!, row!, row!.
i ne'er planned to be born onto the "island of misunderstood" ... Was there a mutiny or was i marooned.

my heart 2

Image result for sexy image of flamesLots of time, i lived my life on the edge... my messages to those i loved were never sent.
A score and a couple of years is how much life's energy i've spent...
Always seeing the world differently, eyes of the Hubble telescope... a mind that loves to search and probe.