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Tribute

Tribute to Nigerians Who lived to fight But died at bullets sight For justice, for equity For change, for betterment Tribute to Nigerians Whose smiles suffer them And their cries are never heard Who suffers for daily bread While deep inside, they bleed Tribute to Nigerians Who wake up early to sleep late Hawking for bread, hustling in stress Working, but worked out Striving, but starved to death Tribute to Nigerians Who did not place religion above man But place man above religion Who are their brother’s keeper Who honours the difference in others Tribute to Nigerians Whose friends betrayed and colleagues dismayed In prisons and cell blocks for no offense Praying yet; yet prayed for their foes Men of valour, buried without honour Tribute to Nigerians Who saw political fraudsters and liars And were brave enough to stand their feet Not corrupt by lies, not swayed by bribes Who in t...
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To the Lady, Ifeoluwa

 To the lady, Ifeoluwa To the lady with the sweetest smiles and brownie eyes This was never meant to be written It was meant to be words of love Passionately pouring into your bloodstream Traveling steadily down the planes of your nerves Flowing into every corners in your heart It was meant to take you and take you over To break your guards and open chapters of love in your heart To the lady with the sweetest voice and cutest pitch This was never meant to be a poem It was meant to sweep you off your feet and make your heart skip a beat It was meant to be torrents of emotional words Filling every space within your world Touching all the glittering spot of your sweet soul Bringing you into life of love where two hearts beat as one Luring you into a blissful world of ecstatic devoid of fantasy   To this lady with a soft soul and a fine feet This was never meant to be written in letters It was meant to be engraved withi...
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Diary of Arike

I have done it all. Yes. Slept with all kinds of men. The tall dark fine ones without six packs, the ugly dudes with smelling armpits, the fair ones with body hair well shaved like a trimmed garden. The naughty ones who would insist on everything, pushing and pulling you all over every sections till they ran out of zeal and the boastful ones who would just brag about everything but at the end of the day fall asleep like palm oil inside the bottle. My name is Arike. I would not say I am proud of the job, i don’t even know if i should say i did it for the money or whether to affirm that i did it for a long hatred without healing. I was disflowered when i was still young to know the mounting troubles of life. I was raped by a step father who took the advantage of my unloving mother. I would not blame him, I blame my dad who was drunk to the point of meeting death on the express way. Life has being everything to me- the good, the bad and the ugly. The constant rape never ceased after t...
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