Hello everyone.
School’s been keeping me busy, that’s why I haven’t posted anything in a while. But no lectures till 1pm, so here I am! πŸ˜€
We have a guest writer on the blog today. The first time I read lines from this guy’s poem, I had a dΓ©jΓ  vu, and for some weird reason, that made me want to read more from him. I sent him a mail asking him to write for my blog and his first reply was “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong e-mail address.” Lol
He did send something though- a beautiful philosophical piece that expresses pure emotions without putting too much effort in the use of poetic technicalities.
Here’s @Muyinho with “Conquistador”. Enjoy
I sit still under the frosty grip
of another cold night, the
salty trickle on my face glistening under the moonlight, as time ticks on oblivious of my plight,

the heaviness in my heart sinking me, each second, deeper into distress,

till I’m lost in an abyss of uncertainty, stricken by the loss and the agony afresh,

engulfed by consummate darkness, and consumed by terror of soulless flesh.

The wind carries the first throaty wail of a child from the window behind, to my ears, reminding me of why I am here,

that sound of fresh life should be followed by the joy of a father and the sincere smile of its tired mother,
yet I’m in the rain on the balcony feeling nothing but pain,

inside a new widower holds his son, baby in his arm probably weighs a ton to him,

the love of his life for a kid he’s never met, not the choice he’d take if the decision was his to make,

a clap of thunder disturbs the sequence of my mind, and draws my thoughts back to me,

I’m afraid of living in this world of incessant crying, and yet too scared of dying,

What is the point of creation if eventually it must end, what is the creator’s motive and what exactly does he intend?

A flash in the cloud calls for my attention and I stare into the firmaments till comprehension finds me,
eyes fixed on the lightning streaked skies as it dawns on me how little our existence means,

Tonight the curtain closes on an ageing girl’s story for an infant man’s tale to begin,
an old woman dies so that a little boy might live,

just as the seasons change and the waters shift, and helios rises unbidden each morning to give the world a lift,
only God knows what good to the world his birth might bring,

so for each moment endless, and every decade swift,
the burden of knowing that this life of mine is little more than a gift,

each ribbon around as a mystery to be unravelled, and each fold of pretty paper an obstacle to be overcome,

they say enlightenment inflames belief, and belief confers strength,

thus in my moment of clarity I become bestowed with the courage to actualize my new found belief,

they say pleasure is accentuated by pain, plenty by previous lack, health by years of pestilence, and the yearning for peace by countless wars,

likewise only through the horrible eyes of hades can the beauty of living be seen,
only in the Grim Reaper’s icy embrace will I feel the warmth of my own skin.

Now I know what I must do to transcend this pitiful existence,

invigorated by knowledge, I take a plunge into the ocean of my mortal fear, a literal jump from a parapet at the hospital’s top,

I have found a fitting end to all my wasted years, tonight I will not be stopped,
if I live, it will be as a better man, appreciative of whatever is left of my life-span,

if i survive, it would be without the thorns of regret,

kept alive by the purpose for which I was born, by all the goals I have not met,

but if I die, sprawled on the pavement as my mangled body lies,

let my spirit rise forth proudly to the heavens, like olympus bound smoke from the pyres of ancient greece,

borne in the arms of maiden valkyrie, ascending with the ravens, clothed in raiment from spotless fleece,

for tonight I have conquered

tonight I have conquered

tonight I have conquered

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Hello, Good morning.
I finally conquered my fear and put this up. Read and kindly make use of the comment box.

I will teach you how to clothe your nakedness with another’s.
No. Please. Stop.
Years later, you will thank me for my benevolence.
No. Please. Stop.
Your dull cries hit the walls of his ears and bounce back,
each echo sounding like a wounded animal
begging to be slain.
Words too weak to have effect,
words that sound like opposites.
He goes ahead;
The teacher still speaks even when his student is half-asleep.
As he writes on the hairy untouched blackboard
with his coal chalk,
you wonder how you walked into this classroom in the first place.
Mother did warn you to plant your feet in one place
till the Teacher comes to whisk you away.

The lessons unheeded are rewritten with your blood.
The lessons unheard are recited in your moans.
The lessons unlearnt are imprinted in your scars.
Lessons to be taught to your children unborn.

In year 2013, Experience re-taught me lessons that Wisdom had taught me previously, lessons I didn’t heed.
By God’s grace, 2014 will be different.

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Judgement is pronounced upon me by these walls,
For the folly of my sins,
For loving a fool.
This cell holds the secrets of our nights
And the echoes of my ululations,
Fragments of my broken wings
And shards of my broken dreams.

I place my hand between these bars,
in spaces that resemble the yawning gaps in my heart,
Itching to be filled with the love of my jailer.
And then I finger the flowers he places in my hair every night,
He loves me.
He loves me not.
His love is twisted,
And for this reason, I rush back here,
Hoping to make it straight,
Though he tramples upon my hope over and over again,
My feet will always return

Rays of sunlight creep in through the cracks in the wall,
Beckoning on me to escape from this darkness.
I part my lips to plead with my jailer
That he break the lock,
But his kiss clamps them shut,
And inundates my mind with memories
Of the music of his snores,
the rhythm of whips across my back,
The art of the scars on my body,
The perfumed smell of his sweaty shirts; Memories that draw me back to my vomit.

I am a slave with undying love for her master,
who beams at him in foolish gratitude,
As she eats the scraps laid at her feet,
Because it is better than nothing.
Outside these walls is a world of uncertainty,
Fear and new beginnings;
I desire no other fate
Except what has always been
And that of which I am sure.
So I choose life imprisonment,
Unafraid to breathe my last, nestled in his arms.
When I was writing this poem, I thought I had an idea of how builders feel when they’re called upon to resume a building project that was abandoned for a long time. It’s a medley of hope, joy, fear and anxiety. (I left this poem uncompleted for few months, for some reason x_x)
Anyway, thanks for reading! :). Ahem, it’s not cheerful but I hope you enjoyed it. Kindly share and drop your comments!


Doxa’s Purge

This is my entry for The Great Purge. Probably the longest so far. x_x

Flexible-Minds; The Mind's Eye

Good morning.

Hope we had a good weekend cos I sure did.

This here is Dunni’s Purge. A realistic piece that goes to confirm that trust is really a box of chocolate and you never know what you’ll get.

Please send your entries to loonpurge@gmail.com

Hola me on twitter @sunkit1



I was doing the dishes when my mum announced, β€œFeyi, you know you’ll be going to the university in few months’ time and I’ll need someone to assist me around the house so I employed a house help.”

β€œOkay. Male or female?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

β€œMale. He’s arriving next week from Togo.”

β€œUgh, Mum! You know I don’t feel comfortable around male house helps. Moreover, how are you going to deal with the language barrier? Both of us can’t speak French fluently.

β€œSee, we are in the twenty-first century”, she informed me, as if I’d just…

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