MY FIRST LOVE

In our primary five class, she had placed a butter mint sweet on my right palm while my eyes were closed.
"okechukwu, close your eyes." She said to me as soon as she stood in front of my desk.
I was surprised as much as I was happy to hear that from her. I gave her my kiddy smile painted with love I believed she felt as soon as I raised my head up to meet her gaze. She was smiling already. I smiled more when I looked into her eyes. She was beautiful and her dentition were just perfect. Neat dark hairs on her scalp  gave her a look that accentuated her lovely face.
"Why?" I asked just to hear her her talk more with me in that blessed atmosphere.
"Just close your eyes first."she insisted.
My eyes widened in ecstasy, which  I believed she saw which prompted her to recoil shyly . Her hands were hidden behind her little butt, and she moved her body like a kid on her first trip to a candy store. I took a deep breath and leaned back on my wooden chair.
"Ok." I said then i closed my eyes.

That day was a special day. The thought of her filled my head all day. I smiled unconsciously as i walked back home. I remembered her coyly run immediately she dropped the sweet on my palm, I opened my eyes as soon as i had the feeling that she'd started running, how we walked hand-in-hand from our school gate to the junction that forced our hands apart and that inner desire never to part ways.
That night was full of imaginations before I slept. My little manhood almost tore the pant of my nightie. I hugged the pillow I held between my folded legs. I couldn't sleep that night. I was just rolling from one edge of my bed to the other. As soon as I thought I slept off, my elder brother tapped me for our early morning prayer, my mom was already leading in worship.

I couldn't wait to get to school that morning. I watched the clock tick several times while my dad prayed. The ticking seemed to be slower that morning. I was the first to get ready for school for the first time in a very long time.
As I got closer to the school gate, my heart almost popped out of my chest. It was beating fast and I was anxious to see how every second would unfold in school. I had never felt love before. She was my first. I became a punctual pupil in school because I always wanted to be the first person she would see after waving her mum goodbye.

I can't forget that unfaithful and unfortunate day when she walked up to me as soon as she alighted from the car.
"I would be traveling to America when we vacate."
I was happy for her, but there was no trait of smile on her face. She wasn't happy.
"Don't you like it? You will meet plenty white people o." I said to cheer her up.
"I don't want to go, I don't want to leave you. My mum said we are not going to come back anytime soon."
That was when I knew what had befallen our young love. It was just a term old.
When we got to our class, she held my hands and kissed me on my lips. That was my first kiss. I loved the feeling. I smiled. She smiled too. She kissed me again but this time it lasted longer than the first.
Nonye, who taught you that!

She finally moved to America. I cried silently most times at night before closing my eyes to sleep for about a month or two. I loved her. I loved Nonye. I have tried real hard to love other girls just as much as I loved Nonye but all to no avail. And now I've come to this realization that "when I was a boy was the only time I had truly loved a girl."

TAKE THOSE BOLD STEPS IN DISCOVERING YOURSELF

I'm an Engineer,
I'm a creative writer,
I'm a poet,
I'm a spoken word artiste,
I'm an actor,
I'm a story teller.
Who are you?

I do road work and play football to exercise,
I play boardgames (chess, scrabble, draft, sudoku, table tennis, a learner in snooker, etc) to keep my brain on check.
I read books, listen to people/audio tapes, or watch clips for motivation.
I watch the news and surf the net for information.
I read my Bible, and pray to God direction and inspiration.
I rehearse and practise each to get better.
I laugh and play, chat and watch comedy to ease off.
What do u do?

I wake up each day with the mindset to correct the wrongs of the previous day.
I'm always willing to learn, un-learn and re-learn.
I listen like a novice, and work like an expert.
I work on my weaknesses and capitalize on my strength.
I admit that I've failed when I do, and learn my mistakes from my failure.
I criticize other people's work constructively, so I won't end up making the same mistakes.
I give room for criticism on my work, having in mind that some are destructive.
What is your concept?

I want to be a man of great honour.
To be the best father to my children and best husband to my wife.
To be an expert in whatever I do.
To bless and enrich lives.
To please God.
To make heaven.
What is your drive?

Who are you?
What do you do?
What are your concepts?
What is your drive?
Give your life a thorough check, get your priorities right, start working towards it, and DON'T YOU EVER GIVE UP.
Don't be scared or tensed if you haven't discovered yourself, know this one fact; every successful man once faced it. Deal with it with ease but consistently, and watch as each day gradually unveils and reviews the greatness in you.

TEARS IN MY DAUGHTER'S EYES (episode 3)

Neche remained calm like she had long expected a time like this. She lightly held my shirt as I drew her closer. I was happy and surprised at the same time, because I didn't beg for too long like I thought.
"I love you baby, I will never let you go." I said about two times.
"Kamsi should take her lunch now." Neche said almost interrupting.
"Oh! That's true! Let me go get her." I replied as I gently pulled away from her. I looked at her to assure her of my love for her once more, I tried to conjure up words to further convince her of the look I had on my face, but I just couldn't find any.
She couldn't look into my eyes. She finally pulled herself away from me to take Kamsi's nosh to the dinning.
"Go get her." She said without looking in my direction before she left the kitchen.
A spasm of rejection coursed through my body.
"All isn't right." I thought within myself. But on a second thought, "I shouldn't expect everything to go smoothly just yet. This isn't a love story. It's happening, and not just to anybody, but to me!" So I decided to allow the process of restoring peace, love and unity in our home to go slowly.
I got to Kamsi's door post with the thought of what lie to tell her this time. She was definitely a kid, but was too intelligent to accept a lie that's not well organised with facts, because she was the sensitive type. How could I lie knowing fully well that she saw us, in a state that clearly showed there was something wrong, and I had earlier promised to make her mom stop crying. I mustered courage, and finally knocked at her door. As expected, I heard no radiant reply. I opened the door slowly and found Kamsi burying her little head under the pillow. I slowly and quietly walked up to her.
"Sweetie, Mummy has stopped crying, and wants you to come have your lunch now." I finally let out.
She remained motionless, though I could hear her sniffing. I sat beside her and held her little arms. Her body shook uncontrollably under me as I held her arms and tried to bring her sit up. Her eyes were drenched in tears. I brought her to close to me and hugged her.
"It's okay now sweetie." I said.
I carried her downstairs to the dinning where Neche was sitting and waiting for us. Dinner was served.
Neche managed to smile at Kamsi to assure her that all was actually well...

Stay tuned for more episodes every Tuesday.

INFERIORITY COMPLEX

Growing up wasn't funny for me, i lost my gaiety. So many darts, spares and arrows were thrusted to me because of my looks, height and speech pattern. Daily I died as a kid, not knowing who to find solace in. This turned me into an introvert, I became a little intelligent because the only solace I found was in my books which I devour like a hungry god.
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Now a grown-up I still feel the trappings of inferiority complex in me. I became too careful not to offend people, too good that people crush my egos most often or take me for granted, and there are times i hardly trust people. I started thinking on how to evade this life, not that I don't know my problem but how to go about it...having the right people to trust, rational minds with a quality taste.
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Until you suffer an issue you can't be an authority in it. This shows why America can easily tell a country how to govern themselves and solve ethnic, religious and racial bigotry. Knowing a problem doesn't certifies that is half solve. Nope! I don't agree to this aphorism.  When a problem is half solve is when you start reaching out to avenues through which solutions will flood your problem out.
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Nigeria is messy first because we don't even know her problem. So many commentors, orators and scholars had posited different reasons for our problems and solutions. Yet we are where? Falling between a scylla and charbdies!
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These identified problems can't give us the panacea we earnestly desire. Until we come to a round table discussion (referendum), Nigeria will suffer same way I suffered inferiority complex among comity of nations. Let's reach out to all ethnic groups in this country, know their grievances and then promote unity.
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PS: I can talk about my inferiority complex because I am now an authority in that field of life.

                          Written by Enyi Enyi Hycenth.

A DAY CALLED TOMORROW

Don't think you are wise because the other person seems to be mute.
Don't think because you gat some kobo in your bank account that God is through with you.
Don't think people gat your back because they smile with you.
Don't think you deserve any favour from anybody because they are related to you.
Don't think you can insult people because of their present predicament; don't be a fool!
Don't think you are too righteous to be remorseful!
Don't think you can run your mouth when the other person gat silence as a tool.
Don't be foolish to think that people don't remember the ills you did to them and the emotional trauma you made them go through.
Don't think because you seem to be a sun in people's life doesn't mean there are no moons.

Remember, life goes in cycle.
Remember the concept of an empty barrel.
Remember the story of Lazarus and the foolish rich man.
Remember the gentleness of a lion does not make him a coward.
Remember the calmness of a river doesn't not mean that they are no crocodiles in it.
Just don't be foolish to think that life is all about TODAY!!!
Remember there is a day called TOMORROW!!!

ADVICE FROM AN OLD MAN... ( Copied... anonymous)

1. Have a firm handshake.
2. Look people in the eye.
3. Sing in the shower.
4. Own a great stereo system.
5. If in a fight, hit first and hit hard.
6. Don't expect life to be fair.
7. Never give up on anybody. Miracles happen everyday.
8. Always accept an outstretched hand.
9. Be brave. Even if you're not, pretend to be. No one can tell the difference.
10. Whistle.
11. Avoid sarcastic remarks.
12. Choose your life's mate carefully. From this one decision will come 90 per cent of all your happiness or misery.
13. Make it a habit to do nice things for people who will never find out.
14. Lend only those books you never care to see again.
15. Never deprive someone of hope; it might be all that they have.
16. When playing games with children, let them win.
17. Give people a second chance, but not a third.
18. Be romantic.
19. Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know.
20. Loosen up. Relax. Except for rare life-and-death matters, nothing is as important as it first seems.
21. Don't allow the phone to interrupt important moments. It's there for our convenience, not the caller's.
22. Be a good loser.
23. Be a good winner.
24. Think twice before burdening a friend with a secret.
25. When someone hugs you, let them be the first to let go.
26. Be modest. A lot was accomplished before you were born.
27. Keep it simple.
28. Beware of the person who has nothing to lose.
29. Don't burn bridges. You'll be surprised how many times you have to cross the same river.
30. Live your life so that your epitaph could read, No Regrets
31. Be bold and courageous. When you look back on life, you'll regret the things you didn't do more than the ones you did.
32. Never waste an opportunity to tell someone you love them.
33. Remember no one makes it alone. Have a grateful heart and be quick to acknowledge those who helped you.
34. Take charge of your attitude. Don't let someone else choose it for you.
35. Visit friends and relatives when they are in hospital; you need only stay a few minutes.
36. Begin each day with some of your favourite music.
37. Once in a while, take the scenic route.
38. Send a lot of Valentine cards. Sign them, 'Someone who thinks you're terrific.'
39. Answer the phone with enthusiasm and energy in your voice.
40. Keep a note pad and pencil on your bed-side table. Million-dollar ideas sometimes strike at 3 a.m.
41. Show respect for everyone who works for a living, regardless of how trivial their job.
42. Send your loved ones flowers. Think of a reason later.
43. Make someone's day by paying the toll for the person in the car behind you.
44. Become someone's hero.
45. Marry only for love.
46. Count your blessings.
47. Compliment the meal when you're a guest in someone's home.
48. Wave at the children on a school bus.
49. Remember that 80 per cent of the success in any job is based on your ability to deal with people.
50. Share this to help your friends.

IS GOD WORTH IT?

All the time we profess we love God. We acknowledge and appreciate him for the things we have and how he has done things his own way. Its cool, and I really love those confessions. But one little question that makes the difference in all our thanksgivings and appreciations is "Do we really mean what we say?" Does God actually deserve the glory we claim to return to him?"
I'm sorry if I intrude into your affair with God, but some things have to be done right. Now how do you see me if you were God that I do things on my own without your consultation, I make my decisions without giving you a listening ear, I care less to things that concern you, nothing depicts that you are my friend, master, brother, or father. We don't communicate in anyway, the only thing that keeps me alive is just grace, even though something tells me that I'm alive because I'm smart, I'm no better than those who don't identify you as the only way; just like it is popularly said that "one who can read but doesn't read is not better than one who can't read" . I know some of your precepts, but intentionally violate them, because they don't just satisfy my selfish desires. Would you be happy as God?
Why didn't God receive the offering of Cain? Hope we haven't forgotten the origination of the widow's mite? The heart matters in thanksgiving, praise and worship.
Jesus Christ once spoke bitterly about this same issue. It hurts to see how people pay lip service in adoration but their hearts are no way near who they profess to adore; it reminds me of the bitterness in Christ heart in (Matt. 15:8/ Mark 7:6).
Now, do we really mean to appreciate him or we do it to fulfil all righteousness? Was He or our strive fully involved in what we are thanking him for? Forget the fact that the appreciation is done to please man, what about God? Is he worth it? We shouldn't give Him what we think we owe him, when deep down in our hearts, we know we've gotten to the point where we are all by ourselves.
Is God really worth it?

LOVE IN THE CHANGING WORLD

According to Wikipedia,
"Love is a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes that ranges from interpersonal affection ("I love my mother") to pleasure ("I loved that meal"). It can refer to an emotion of a strong attraction and personal attachment. Love can also be a virtue representing human kindness, compassion, and affection—"the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another". It may also be described as the compassionate and affectionate actions towards other humans, one's self or animals.

The world has so changed now that so many things that were considered to be abnormal abominable are now in vogue, those that were in vogue are sloping down into extinction, so is love. Love used to be expressed more than it was said, in fact the expression of love can be related to the common saying "action speaks louder than words". These days, the depth of love has been made shallow by lust and luxury.
Gone are the days when once your hear love, you know you've found a home. Those days when every Fibre of your being  dives into the mystery of love, and yearns to be loved. Love goes beyond a feeling of attraction towards the opposite sex, it permeates through every area of life and doesn't care about who is being loved.
Love breeds trust. Love thrives were there is trust, before our hearts were eroded with the virus of selfishness and it's vices. Everything that concerns our neighbour was also our concern. Love was sweet! Love is sweet! And it cannot just lose its savour, because it is divine, it can't lose its meaning because some people interpret it wrongly. God loves, so also Christ, that's why the ability to love was imparted to us as soon as we put on Christ in other to appreciate one another's existence and not restrict it to just one person or group, though there may be preference in love.
Love is all encompassing. It is so vast for the human heart to fully comprehend it, to get a clear picture of it, you need to seek the counsel of the one who first showed what it meant to love. Love for family, friends, neighbours, colleagues, country, the world, government, life, God, name them.
Gradually, things began to unveil and occur in our heart, and love got fed up of having to share the whole of our heart with other feelings that are anathema to it. It got choked up and had to give way. Sadly enough, we now have different definitions of love.  
These days when we seem to be wise, love has become a game played with the brain, and feared by the heart. Love has been trampled upon by the prematurity of our minds. Once love is mentioned, one thing that comes into our mind is heartbreak. That's a very shallow way of thinking. We only think love is meant for dating and marriage.
The media has compounded the the problem with the kind of movies and songs that they air, as long as they get their money, they care less about the after effect. They've streamlined our reasoning of love to just sex and selfishness, that's why the world has lost her sanity, which it may never recover from. Love songs are no more for the being of a person, but for endowment and possessions. That's all we now see when we profess love.
I spoke earlier about someone that knew how to express love, his name is Jehovah. You can prayerfully study 1Corinthians 13:1-13, it's clearly spelt out there. Let me draw the curtain here by saying thus; The fact that the world doesn't portray love the right way is not enough reason to join the band wagon, go ahead and make that difference!

TEARS IN MY DAUGHTER'S EYES (episode 2)

My mouth was left ajar and my eyes nearly popped out of my head as my gaze rested on my pathetic wife. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was a beast indeed. Tears gathered in my eyes. No doubt I would lose my wife soonest to death except she would run into the safety hands of divorce.
That wasn't my wife in my bed. My wife was prettier, sexier, and more romantic.
Neche was every man's lady when I met her. Everything about her depicted femininity- from her graceful height to her hair, face, smile, laughter, voice, endowments, skin, legs and her "catful" walk. I need not to tell you how I felt when she accepted my proposal, but in summary I knew then God loved me.

I didn't know when I fell on my knees and began to weep bitterly.
"Baby please forgive me." Was all I could repeatedly mutter.
She began to sob as I wept. I placed my palms on her right wrist and and wept the more,  pleading for mercy. Several seconds after my outburst, she pulled her hand away from my gentle grip and went into the bathroom. I heard splashes of water almost immediately she entered the bathroom, but she didn't stay up to the normal duration I've known her for, though her whole body was wet. I tried opening the door to the bathroom as soon as I stopped hearing the splashes of water from the shower, but the door was locked. I was surprised as that was the first time either of us would lock the bathroom door when in the bathroom. I stood right at the door post waiting for her to open the door. I fell on my knees again as soon as she did. Tears were trickling down my cheek . I held her hands as hard as I could. She was shocked at my display, and was trying to get herself off my grip.
"Baby please forgive me." I was looking into her eyes as I kept pleading.
She closed her eyes. Tears were in her eyes again.
"Buchi leave me, your are hurting me!" She groaned aloud as she struggled harder from my grip.
I noticed that my grip was doing more harm than good, so I had to loosen my it. In that hard struggle of hers, I lost grip of her and her right hand hit my left eye. I moaned so loud and fell to the floor in reflex. She didn't bother to know if I was injured or not, she walked straight to her wardrobe to dress up.
After some few minutes, I was busy examining my left eye when I saw a sheet of paper dangling in the air just above me. She dropped the paper and went to Kamsi's room to call her for lunch.
My focus was on the sheet of paper as it fell on my belly. I picked it up with my right hand while my left hand was on my left eye. It was an invitation from a lawyer to commence divorce proceedings. Neche had filed for a divorce. My eyes popped out the more this time. I didn't know when I sprang up to my feet, ran and started scampering down the stairs. Kamsi quickly turned around to look at me with surprise clearly spread all over her face while Neche was busy in the kitchen dishing out Kamsi's nosh. I rushed into the kitchen and fell on my knees, I held the hem of her flowing indian gown.
"Baby you don't have to go please I beg of you." I cried this time.
She pulled her gown off my grip with her right hand while she held Kamsi's nosh with her left hand. She had barely taken two steps away, when we noticed that Kamsi had been watching us. When Kamsi saw us looking at her with tears in our eyes, she ran to her room upstairs.
"I'm so sorry baby, I promise not to ever hit you again." I said nevertheless.
"I'm tired Buchi, I'm tired!" She cried out. "I'm tired of all these. I can't stay here until you beat me to death. I can't handle it any longer. I have to go since my so called husband is now the cause of my anguish."
"yes yes yes yes yes I am. I'm the cause. I accept. I was foolish. Jealousy killed me and its about to ruin our marriage and family. Please stay baby, I'm ready to play by your rules."
"This isn't the first time Buchi. You are such a liar. You will never change. Just let me go please. I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired." She said as she started to cry too.
I stood up when I noticed that she had started to cry. I went closer and held her. "I promise you I'll change this time baby." I hugged her and gently pulled her head to rest on my chest. "I love you baby."

Do not forget, every Tuesdays is our day for "tears in my daughter's eyes." Stayed tuned, stay connected.

ABSTINENCE

Most times when we hear the word abstinence, our mind would flee to the viral topic, Sex. Yes, maybe that's the only time we use it, neglecting smoking, drinking, indulging in bribery and corruption, exam malpractice etc. Sadly to say that other areas we don't preach abstinence have really become a norm that it is becoming to late to cry as the head is almost off the neck.
Here are confessions of my friends, and I hope it would help;

I once told my friends that I hadn't seen a girl's under wear not to talk of having sex with one, they said "with your handsomeness, guy why u dull like this?" I ended up getting into an addiction I don't know when I would be free from- Jeff told me.

I was offered a bottle of beer by a young man when I was a kid, but I told him that I don't take beer; he chuckled softly, tapped my back and said, "well, you are still a kid, only men are known with beer." And now, I'm down with a liver problem...- Princewill confessed.

"I can never weed", I attacked when offered one by my friends. "If you face what real men face, you'd withdraw that childish statement and apologise to us..." And now, I know I'm dieing in the inside, but I can't just resist the temptation when I think of weed... -Johnny told me

What are your friends forcing you to do? They know they've lost it and so they are simply envious of you for not loosing yours too, And they will go to any length to make sure you lose yours too... ABSTINENCE I suggest is the best thing to do. It's not weakness but showcase of strength and intergrity...

Pensworld

I asked God...

DREADLOCKS WITCH

Sucking the milky juice through the broken holy cup
The dreadlock witch in her neat bin chuckles and caps
Art is life, life is art, my bar rope cage
Has made my fate faith my dreams
To this human abbatoir for wasted life is precious
Piercing asunder thoughts, words of value and price tag
Dreams, for nothing in dream is good, all is bad
From the chirruping hollows my oceans of skulls
Follows giving peace to worthy life which is not precious
Chilling the spines of dead stormy stubborn spirits
Cut long in exercise of wanthom righteousness.
With no fear i pledge no allegiance to my works
For righteous is my free soul if judged with
The ordiance of servants obey your master in all
For i live now in the reality of salvation and its salutations
With my dreadlocks having blossoming wreathe no more.

written by ENYI ENYI OSINACHI HYCENTH

DEBACLE (Episode 2)

"Nwoke ni-ife (man and things of life)!" Mazi Uchendu, popularly known as Awun-awun, would always say and then chuckle whenever Onye-ike complained of his sudden sleepless nights. "That is what every man faces when his household is expecting a new member of his family in this world." Awun-awun replied earlier in front of his hut when Onye-ike came visiting.
"I remember when Mama Obinna gave birth to Adaeze, my first child." Awan-awun continued as he furrowed his eyes up to the dark sky like he was trying to see what to say up there. "I stayed awake for several weeks expecting the arrival of my child, but she didn't come forth. She over stayed her welcome in her mother's womb to the extend that she brought sleepless night to whole of our kindred. Then you were still a very little boy carried around on your mother's back. I toured in the company of your father and papa Chikwelu to no avail in search of a Dibia with a solution until the gods decided to save us the stress. It was when we got to the great Okosisi Dibia of Okosisi village that he told us that the gods has visited my household. I ran and ran in excitement from Okosisi village forgetting that I was with company. When I got home, the women were already singing praises to the gods. I was so happy that I spent a few nights more watching my ada sleep." Awun-awun took light breath in and out, and then continued.
"So you see nwanne m, it is normal. Nwoke n'ife!" He said snickering. "Go now, your wife needs your presence now than ever before. We shall have plenty of time again after your child comes forth."
"Imela Mazi (thank you elder)." Onye-ike said as he stood up to leave. He threw the last piece of kola nut into his mouth. "Kachifo (till the break of tomorrow), my regards to your family."
"K'obo." Awa-awu replied. "Say me well to your child bearer."
"My mouth is not dumb and her ears are not deaf." Onye-ike said as he left for his hut.
Awu-awu smiled as he flapped the wrapper tied around his waist to chase away pesting mosquitoes. "Nwoke ni-ife." He muttered again as he found comfort in his long backed wooden chair...

Watch out for Episode Three on Monday... Make sure you miss nothing!!!

WHY? just tell me...

...I don't blame people who argue that life is unjust. But come to think of it, is life just? If it is, why would some pregnant women, after undergoing through the stress to bring forth a child, finally call it quit against her own wish in the labour room?
Why are some born poor and some rich?
Why does hard work refuse to produce success, now they say it's smart work does.
What about those that are born deformed, what's their crime?
Why do people say the richest place on earth is the grave yard but still believe that a living dog is better than a dead lion? What a contradiction! I'm just so confused!
When a man's deeds are bad, people condemn him, and some say he is proud. But when he tries to be good, the same people would take advantage of it, making his worth seems like a rose trembled on the ground.
Why will a trailer always lose his grip on the ground when it sees a crowd?Sometimes, I feel some events happen so fast beyond God's control. But my pastor tells me that God is always in control and that he never allows us to face temptations that are bigger than us. Do you want to tell me that those suffering orphans roaming about the streets begging are bigger than their predicaments?
What about those little girls who suffer from the psychological and mental torment of rape?
Those that were knocked down to death by stray bullets and over speeding vehicles?
Those consumed during bomb blasts, plane crash, and natural disasters, don't tell me that God wanted all those to happen. If he does, does he derive joy in seeing them happen?

They are just too many to ponder on and ask why they happen... But I just have to be grateful for the beautiful things happening to me and every living soul. I need not ask him questions here on earth, but when I get to see him face to face, I gat just one question for him; WHY? Just tell me...

A LITTLE VIOLENCE

I used to have this very stubborn friend who feared nobody. He preferred to fight than engage in a mere exchange of words. I remember his common phrase, "them never born the person". 

"Igbegiri" was his name. Guys feared him. I could slap a soldier provided he is somewhere near. But now, I wouldn't want to hurt a fly because Igbegiri is six-feet under the ground.

It was a cool evening of the unfaithful day at the pitch, we were playing football like we normally did. 

"Last throwing, last over!"

The people timing us as we played, shouted. Tempo became high as none of the players wanted to leave the field of play. In the last counter attack of the 10 minutes match, the ball hit a younger boy's hand. Igbegiri didn't want to waste any time decided to "touch and play", but the younger boy played the ball away so his team mates would return to guard their "monkey" goal post. 

In anger as usual, Igbegiri went for a punch. "Ahan, na wetin I do you na, you go see today" the boy said. As his mouth was gradually becoming a pool of blood. People rushed in to hold and beg Igbegiri. 

"See this small boy o! Me, you say I go see?" Igbegiri said, for what the boy said infuriated him.
"

"You no go calm down, when e go happen, na your body go tell you o!", people shouted at the boy who was busy pacing around, looking for weapon. 

The boy suddenly headed for the little crowd around Igbegiri. Running with all his strength, he bombed into the crowd with a great hit. "Yeeeh!!! My neck o!" Igbegiri shouted and fell to the ground. A bottle has been implanted in his neck. 

"Your father, near me na!", the boy said, bouncing and boasting.

People started begging Igbegiri to allow them take him to a near-by hospital. He was on the ground as attempts were made to pull out the bottle off his neck. 

Finally, it came out! His jersey was already soaked in his blood. He didn't mind, 

"make una leave me!" He shouted as he forcefully pulled himself out of the midst of the people taking him to the hospital. He approached the boy fiercely. At this point, no one dared try to hold Igbegiri back. The boy past away as he couldn't withstand several punches and strangling Igbegiri proffered.

How has the mighty fallen! Igbegiri thought he was still as strong as he was. He fell on his kneels when he tried getting up. We rushed to hold him in care. I saw it in his eyes, "weakness". He was gradually getting cold, and his eyes needed just some micro joules of energy to keep them open. He dependently and unconsciously fell into my hands.

We rushed him to the hospital. The doctor came out several minutes later, shaking his head in disappointment and failure. We needed not a soothsayer to decipher that gesture to us. We looked at one another in disbelief. I was personally disheartened, those soldiers could come looking for me.
Violence took my friend. Temper and impatience fell an Iroko tree. It could then happen to you, me, or even us. What's then the need of it?

TELL ME...

Tell me when the world would end, cos I want to know when all these wars would end.
Tell me when the earth shall be like the heavens, cos I long to see a earth without suffering.
Tell me when there shall be no more death, cos I'm tired of losing my loved ones.
Tell me when jealousy and hatred would end, cos I long to breathe in love here on earth.
Tell me when everybody would become rich, cos I want to know when little children will stop walking helplessly begging for crumbs.
Tell me when people shall stop lieing, bribing and stealing, cos I want to to know when people would be contented with what they have.
Tell me when I would stop asking you to tell me when..., cos I want to know the answers myself.

DEBACLE

The night was breezy and cold as darkness swept through Achara village. The sound of crickets and toads were in the still, and the sound of wind wave made the night more scary. Trees were shaking and letting down their leaves under the effect of the wind wave.
Lamps were swithched off but some were lowered as the inhabitants of Achara village went to bed on time. It wasn't new in the village because they all had to wake up early to attend to their farms, since it was the beginning of the raining season. Work in the farm was always tedious and exhausting; clearing of the farm was the major work to be done that most villagers weren't just going to bed early beacuse of the early start of the next day, but have to answer the irresistible call of nature after their tedious day job.
Almost every obi (compound) was producing deep moans most of which were mens, rather fathers, that depicts exhaustion. And the reflex slaps, when mosquitoes exhibited their sucking skills, were heard intermittently.
The ground was gadually becoming wet and the force of the wind was intensifying, leaves fell more from their stems and branches. Kettles, plates and light empty cans were displaced from their points of inertia.
Onye-ike had barely closed his eyes to sleep when his wife's yelp brought him back to consciousness. He didn't give it a second thought to think because he had waited for that discomfort for a few days, which has deprived him of sound sleep.
He dashed to chimamanda's room...

      What happened to Chimamanda? Read on as the thrilling episodes unveil themselves every Monday and thursday.

TEARS IN MY DAUGHTER'S EYES

Let me start like this...
I was a coward; I couldn't face my fears and insecurity, but i was man enough to raise my hands on my beloved wife. I was ruthless, heartless and never worthy to be called a father or even a husband, But in all, I've come to strongly believe that when a woman loves, she loves for real... That's why R kelly's "when a woman loves..." remains my favorite song.

Spare me not to bore you with how it all started. Though it happened just the first time about two years ago. I didn't want to do it but I did it anyway. I slapped her! I slapped my wife! She fell to the ground in our room and started to sob.
"why would you slap me?" Was all she repeatedly asked me as she sobbed.
My consciousness suddenly came to the reality of what just happened. What did I do? I hit my wife! I was dumbfounded and confused at the same. I went down on my knees and pleaded for mercies.
"Buchi why? Even if I was all wrong, is it enough to slap me?" She said as tears were trickling down her cheeks.
It was like my world came to an abrupt end. I begged and promised never do it again. She knew I was sorry for my thoughtless action. I drew her close and she held tight to my shirt and sobbed a little more before we laid right where we were and slept off.
One morning about two weeks after that awful incident, I was surprised how it repeated itself again. I hit my wife again. A week later, the same thing happened. The week that followed too. It became a weekly routine. It got to the extend that I stopped apologizing after any hit. Gradually I became an inveterate wife beater.
My precious wife's face was getting disfigured each passing day. Everything was getting worse for me and my life was even against me. We had no more romance. When would I see Neche give me that radiant smile that made my worries flee thousand of miles away.

I was taking my six years daughter, Kamsi, to school after just hitting my wife. It's been quite a while since I took her to school because I was always leaving home very early even before she woke up. But this morning, just like other days when I'd prefer to take her to school myself, I called my office to permit my lateness. My heart was heavy and I was lost in my thought when I heard Kamsi's sweet tiny voice ask me,
"Daddy, I don't like our home again. Why is mummy always crying?"
It felt strange. She had noticed it. I looked at her from the rear-view mirror as she shrank herself into her seat with tears in her eyes. I turned and took a proper but quick look at her, I noticed that my recent beastly self is destroying not just the peace of my family, but also the psychologically being of my i-will-die-for only daughter and child. I felt this cold vibes seeing my daughter's tears.
Silence reigned in my BMW X6 as I was speechless after the sound of her voice. But I knew I had to play on her intelligence just to protect her.
"Kamsi, you know daddy loves you right?" The first words came out.
"Yes. Mummy tells me that."
"Really? When was the last time she told you that?" My eyes were focusing on the road and the rear-view mirror now.
"Yesterday."
"yesterday..." I mumbled out. It's been almost 18months since i became a domestic beast, and my wife, the victim, went about protecting my home, her home, our family, telling our only child that I love her. I couldn't believe my ears. There and then I remembered how we started, Neche and I. I felt real romance for the first time in a long time. A part of me was dead, i knew it.

After dropping Kamsi off at school, I sped off to the office. Everything was seeming to be happening so fast. How would I begin with my apologies? I've done enough havoc. I hated myself and continually bang my steering.
I lost concentration completely through the day at the office. I left early with the excuse that my wife was critically ill. By the time I got home, Kamsi was home already. She was in Neche's arms on the couch when I entered.
"sweetheart, go to your room, your dad is back. I will call you when I'm done with your lunch, okay?" Neche told Kamsi.
Tears hung on Neche's eyelashes and her face was battered, exhibiting the magnitude of my brutality.
"Daddy, mummy is crying again." Kamsi said with tears trickling down her cheek as she ran to me for embrace. I knelt down and hugged her, looked into her eyes and said, "that's why I'm back early sweetheart. Mummy will stop crying okay?" She nodded her head. I hugged her again, her tears soaked my white shirt as I held her little head close to my heart.
"Now, go to your room like mummy said sweetie." She nodded again and Walked to her room quietly with her little school bag clinging at her back.
It was just Neche and I now. I just knelt still where I hugged Kamsi. I couldn't keep my gaze on her, not because she was looking horrible but because I was abaft it. To speak became a very hard thing to do, though this was the moment I had waited for all day. I took a deep breath; I felt very strange.
"baby..." That was the first word that escaped from my mouth.
"I'm sorry, so sorry for everything..." I was still trying to gain balance when she stood up and left for the kitchen.
That was it. I knew it would be hard to achieve reconciliation, even very hard. What would I give as a concrete reason for my inhumane treatment to her? Do I even have any? I remembered Kamsi's tears in the morning, and then a moment ago. I remembered how insecure I suddenly became when she innocently told me about her sudden promotion, I mean Neche, my wife. She had considered quitting her job because her boss was trying to sleep with her- and then the promotion. I felt depressed.

I went into the kitchen to meet her. She was micro waving bean and plantain. She leaned on the wall, and rested her folded hands on her belly. I walked slowly to her. I leaned my left hand on the wall and I tried to touch her with my right hand.
"Baby, we can make us work perfectly again." My right hand gently rested on her left arm now. She closed her eyes immediately I started talking.
"Buchi, please I'm not in for this." she stressed the "please." "If you need sex, come to the room. Kamsi's food is in the microwave." She said and walked out of the kitchen.
I stood there for a while with a numb brain. I managed to switch off the microwave and went to our bedroom.
When I opened the door to our bedroom, Neche was buck naked and was lying on the bed. Her legs were slight apart and her hands were close to her body.
My heart jumped into my belly as I walked in. I had relegated my wife to a sex toy. That was when I knew I had a long way to go in redeeming my wife...

           The remaining thrilling Episodes of this story would always hit this blog on Tuesdays... Stay tuned! Make sure you read to the end!

A POET IS A MIRACLE...

A poet is a Miracle
And so is the Poetess too.
For how can one build an edifice with Just a word or two.
Lines upon lines,
Words and words again,
Letters on letters
He binds them on fetters
With exquisite hands he sews
Words he sows
like tiny little seeds
Until they become a hue of similar shades
And a harmonized splash of rhyming rays.
He uncoats words
and undresses verses
His thoughts flows in rhymes
and he reasons in rhythms
His dictions has no restrictions
For he is the god of words
And like God
He creates forms from nothing until nothing becomes
something our eyes can imagine,
he sees through the lenses
that only poets eyes sees and senses
I should have been in the sciences
But when I drank the poets portion
I lost that direction
and I lost my senses
for I became possessed with words
and the fire of poetry burned my soul
A poet is a miracle
And so is the poetess too.

                           Written by Olives Azubuike
                            Edited by I. Okechukwu

CHANGE THAT NEVER BRINGS CHANGE

I heard the squabbling,
Even the dumb was murmuring;
Our country has suffered enough dent,
Who will be our new president?
For we are tired of desultory leaders,
We need a God sent as a leader!
A man chosen by our lust but ordained by God.
We were impatient to see a Messiah,
We were eager for a change of desire,
Then we all clamoured for CHANGE!!!
A change that would never bring a change.
Tempo was high as election drew near,
We heard that our youths would be paid for being lazy.
The media supported the end of religious crisis,
And with our lives, we held on to their empty promises.

...The election day finally unveiled,
Magic and miracle were displayed on the showglass,
But we preferred magic to a miracle.
We trampled on the personality of our hero,
And stood with arsenal awaiting our meek enemy
We watched as each ballot in the box went in our favour.

And finally,
Our man won!
A new era was born!
At last our dilapidated shall be renovated in four days,
And we shall say goodbye to our fears.
Seconds turn to minute and then to years.
We waited patiently for his magic,
Maybe that's the style in the new regime.
The man for the people suddenly became a man for nobody.
His punchlines that we thought were worthy
Were ironically said to prove our foolishness.
He sidelined the perfection of creation to the four walls of the kitchen.
Again we folded our arms on our chest,
As we pondered if he was like or even worse than the rest...

Now our story is better narrated by our bleeding hearts,
We live by hook or by crook.
Hand to mouth,
Since we've forgotten that we are rich.
And now we pray for his meeting with the ones that are no more living!!!

FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN

Fear of the unknown
Battering the peace of my bones,
Making the precepts I have known Decay in my head like I were dead.

I lie in my tomb with ease
Worried, but unable to speak
But the world needs me.

Fear of the unknown
Afraid of what people would always say So I denied my opinions
And kept my ideas at bay
A disease caused by inferiority complex.

What are you afraid of? There is no mountain bigger than that which you have on your mind, get up and deal with it. Remember, no one takes notice of you,  everything plays in your head.

WISHES AND THOUGHTS

I don't wanna be like christians who think they need not Christ because they've grown so wise in their eyes...
But to be frank, I'm tired of preachers without a message. Their words make me float carelessly, and gullible to be pranked; giving me reasons to believe that a little of the devil is no evil.
Sometimes I wonder what differentiates me from Lucifer. I connive with my friends round a table in a bar to tear down my temple with liquor. At least we know the devil, but I'm that angel you can never know.
Staring at the letters that bear life as I flip over the pages of the scripture, i want to be as good as much as bad, but how will I survive by being good in a world that killed Christ?
I hate this world! Its no longer innocent like it was when I was young. The sun now emits corruption, and I foresee adult movies shown in kiddies event .
Sometimes I wish I never existed, so I wouldn't end up being convicted to feast in the prison of the prisoner I had encaged a million times through selfless effort to negate sin, and a steady yell of warfare and fire of the Holy Ghost.
I'm tired of religions that preach peace but their soul goal is war. They try to make men live in peace to disarm them of their aggressiveness so they would in the long run still make them die in crises.
I love God because he is forgiving and patient, unlike men who still hold on to Moses' an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
I love Lucifer for his consistency and persistence, but never for his foolishness, for he can't see a second of time.
I love life inasmuchas lazy men who try to make their lives better has ended up serving other men death in a cup of life. Other men now live to fulfil all righteousness neglecting purpose.
Just like my fellow humans, I love so many things about life, but hate some no doubt; not forgetting that there is a thin line between love and hate.
I love men who love to love. But I love more the men who hate to love, because when they love, they love!
I pray nobody should be like me, not that I'm too holy of emulation or so bad to be condemned, but that everyone should be like themselves; knowing and being who they really are.

LIFE IS WORTH LIVING

LIFE IS WORTH LIVING...
I had a friend who was dear.
He lived with the fear
That failure was near.
He tried a couple of times
To make his wrongs right.
He tried again for his last time,
Nothing still to show, he committed suicide!
He failed to realise that
His last time wasn't really the last.
He simply didn't know that,
"Life... is... worth... living!"

My coursemate got pregnant
For a man she termed was important
Not necessarily important, to be frank
Because he supplied all her needs even down to her pants...
"Drop out and marry me."
His deceptive voice sounded when she
Went to him crying and weeping.
Her parents throught her things out,
And her provider became a big doubt
When she finally succumbed.
Her swollen face became her make up
As she saved her provider a little cost.
She got fed up with his beastly attitude
Whe he starved her of food
For three day just before her delivery.
Sadly, she escaped with the baby
From the hospital to dump it in a waste bin.
She ended the life of an unknown hero,
She later realised as she cried and soaked her pillow
That, "life... is... worth... living!"
For that little baby.

My lodgemate was a gallant fellow
Who was stubborn and stiff necked like Pharoah
Maybe because he got millionaires are parents.
Though he could be focused and intelligent,
But he needed one more thing according to cultists;
POWER and PROTECTION
Like they were God.
His shoulders equalled
The height of his head few weeks on,
And in his final year, he was made the capon.
He ended lives untimely
Without the necessary thought
That "life... is... worth... living."
Maybe he forgot the story of the warrior
Who lived by sword
And died by it...
His parents and notable people
Were all present during his convocation party.
Just when he received his certificate in glee
He was shot from a close range
And his blood splashed on his dad's face,
The end to his earthly race.
A typical failure to appreciate
That "life... is... worth... living."

Just three out of many scenerios  I gat here on how people mostly out of frustration, pains, revenge, anger, jealousy, greed, etc end their lives or the life of another. Please you are too important to kill yourself or another.
When it seems like its the end of the road and you get frustrated just like everyone would be, get to talk to someone, read books, listen to tapes and/music and don't you ever forget to pray to God about it. Humanity needs you, even God knows that LIFE... IS... WORTH... LIVING.

THE WIFE I WISH I HAD (I)

"Excuse me dance." Her sexy voice sounded in my left ear as her soft palm gently caressed my broad shoulders with a head blowind and seducing little massage.
I turned back so impressed with that invitation. Even if she was below standard, I wouldn't mind was conclusion. But lo and behold, a goddess stood behind me! For some seconds I was lost in my gaze at her. Just then she gave me an emotional upliftment when she smiled! Gosh! I didn't know when I stood up and said, "Sure." The word hid under my tongue, but I knew my action spoke far louder than my word.

She led me to a dark corner to avoid eyes from searching through her perfectly fitted gown. Permit me to save you the stress of all that transpired on the dancefloor, so I won't get your minds drifted to somewhere else.

We started our relationship in the best way I have ever read, heard, seen or imagined. And as a young man who was well brought up and wouldn't want to flirt around, I concluded that she was my wife, and that no force on earth would be able to seperate us.
She was independent as I was, had a house and a car like I had, a wonderful cook and of course the "no-sex-before-marriage" resolution. On my mind I pictured how cute our kids would look. I'd definitely be a loving husband and a proud father.

It baffled me to know that a lady I met at the club, and who even excused me for a dance could say no sex before marriage. Why then the invitation in the first palce? But the Love she showered on me blind folded me and I did no proper investigation about her. She was everything a man could ever want his woman to be. Certainly, I concluded that I was the luckiest amng men.

Without wasting further time, she went with me to see my pastor. He was happy that I finally decided to settle down. He knew about my past relationships; just two of them though. He knew how I struggled to make them work because all the ladies wanted was spending my money, but I needed more than that in a woman; not just the basic characteristics of knowing how to cook and having good character, but majorly a woman who could represent perfectly and be in charrge when I'm away.

We talked at length with him, after which he told me with a whisper that he needed to see me privately concerning my decision to get married to the lady I was already calling my wife.

No soon as I ignited the engine of my car, I heard her quietly exclaim,

"I don't like that pastor!"

I was surprised at the same time shocked because it was her first time meeting him, although I had a hunch that she must have known him somehow, because her facial expression changed immediately she saw him, but I kept that in abeyance and just inquired about the reason for her sudden dislike of him, she replied with an impudent face that there was really no reason but she just didn't like him.

"My pastor is a very jovial man, and also highly principled", I tried to convince her. When you get to know him you will love him and appreciate the kind of person that he is, I added.
She kept quiet as we drove back home. That was the first time I saw her get angry for no reason. So many things ran through my mind that night before I slept. I tried to Fathom to no avail why and how everything played today between my wife and he pastor.

"Could it be that she was a prostitute, and my pastor had slept with her?" In as much as I tried not to have that much on my mind, but the possibility was certainly there. I became very scared and unease. sleep fled a million miles away from my eyes. How would I listen to believe the word of God from his mouth? I became very unease as things which were so poisonous invaded heart the more. "I must go see the pastor." I concluded within me.

More Episodes will hit this blog pretty soon! Stay tuned!!

PAIN OF IGNORANCE

She gave her heart to a lover who has never loved
Fell to the prey of a devil who is good with words
A father who love to see his daughter moan
Her beauty withered even before she was born
She experienced menopause before menstration

She is a young old woman
Who sees a bright future in her plan
A plan that's more like a tale
Cos she is an inch away from her grave

Blood drips down her pierced heart
Her last wish is a sight on God
Many words to be said but are all gone

Her brain becomes transparent
And her heart exposed to torment

And her body detached from her feelings

She screams her soul out because
The exit is too small to welcome her replica into this world

Her tears hide under legal pains
Though she is a mistress from slave trade
And a mother when she was barely eight.

She teaches her children what she was never taught
Gives her breasts to be sucked,
But she had never tasted her mother's for too long
She becomes a mother that was never mothered.

Without sentiment let's not forget
She is still a kid
But an old woman in the real sense.
She is an Hausa innocent little girl
Who never enjoys life to the fullness.

Say no to child abuse
Say not to the brutalisation of those little girls who have been locked up mentally in the constraints of traditions, given away to a life that only lasts for a day- her wedding day, and her body sags, and her breasts flatten like over-worn slippers.

FOR LOVE...

Whenever I stand at the foot of the cross that held my saviour bound,  I look up and imagine him struggle for his last breath, and hear distinct chants from those rebels whosè sin he hid within his blood streams. He was bruised and battered,  his body shivered to the overload of sin flowing through his veins,  he forced his eyes to remain open, his head clamped with thorns,  and his hands and feet were glued to the cross.
He wanted to stay alive, but sins upon sins were hipped on him which made him weaker and weaker.  when all the sins were finally in him,  he satisfactorily said "it is finished!"
As a kid which I will always be when I appear at the foot of the cross,  I don't know how he managed to endured us all, but I know he did it for LOVE!

THE DYING DEAD! BIAFRA!!!

When shall we live? When shall we wake up from dearth? We are having night mare but we enjoy tragedy, so the lions that roared in us when we were younger now learn to eat grass.
We are the sons of the soil. Our fathers watered the soil with their blood to cultivate fearless warriors, and survivors even if the heavens shot her windows. Our fathers' population was small but invincible, relentless, and indomitable.
... Until the serpent yet again gave some of us that forbidden fruit our fathers advised us no to eat. Now we see the impossibility of brotherhood, and neglect the anthem and pledge that remind us of our origin and uniqueness. We eat with bare hands with devils who have long spoons...
... We are now so wise in our foolishness to sell off those things that make our prestigious  language and culture rise above heat to civilization.
We breed children who are shy to respond with every agility and strength in them at the sound of the almighty IGBO KWENU!!! What about how we tap the back of our right palm to our brothers' three times before feeling the warmth of our palm. Our red cap and and isiagu attire that used to be our identity are now for fashion that we become foreigners as soon as we are in them. Many more things I see leave my heart shattered,  Little wonder we see the impossibility of achieving BIAFRA.
Where Is our BIAFRA? Where is the pride of Our IGBO nations? We need the rain of the sweat of which our fathers fought with!
IGBO KWENU! KWENU!! KWEZUONU OOO!!!

SAVED...

I was deceived by my  childishness
Lost in my quest for fame and wealth
The tree I hid behind my sin
Heaven looked down at me and saw sin

The devil knew me, pastors called me
I watched myself smiling and getting fulfilled in the tv
But here on earth, I was dead in heaven
And hell winks at God for yet another loss

Why the increase if God knew me not?
'Cos I was as smart as the easterners
But the same foolish spirit was in me and lucifer
The same mistake, definitely the same destination!

I wasn't in God's eyes but certainly in Christ's tears
The devil plead for justice, the voice of the dead too I hear
Why me he saved remains a mystery to even the angels
Now I pray the devil never becomes the warder in my world...

THE MAIDEN PLEA

I was raped at six
The skyward pool of blood from my thighs
Rents the air of wanton men
Setting ablaze their desires despite
The moan of Rachel I raise for three years
My legs where spread further for deeper dig.
I lost countless orgasms
As the most reverends took turns on me,
Holding my innocence captive of prejudice
My senses were armoured for revenge
Then I traded my soul
Asking for nothing less but blood!
Blood of their own innocent loins.

**
Now my vagabonds cruise their reins
Though not remembering my years of shame
The inflicts more pains as my lechers
And crusade the chanting of my promiscuity
Again I will become my beauty victim.
Why did nature write my story this way;
That thus far my fifty-seven years
Of passion throes is my ties cravings?
Chei! My shame is my grave
While I live, I need no burial
I need no blood pool downward
All I quest now is something more,
More than revenge; that's love.

***
This is my history
Story of mortals greed on my horny
I am Nigeria; blindfolded war whore
With profuse leaks on my thighs
I need no flirty thrusting grin,
Though I'm no virgin to it
My strength is weak and I whither
Hither and thither like the smote gourd.
Listen to a maiden plea whose desires is,
Sweating her pains with warm embrace
In your bosoms as my lovers.
.
.
.
.
.
© ENYIENYI OSINACHI HYCENTH

SELFISH SOULS

I am lost and non believes
My silence is the oracle of Delphi to them
While my mumble is akin to Amadioha.
Fragment fazes of Nana's  words births shades
In today's realities of life phases
She would retort after Nnanna's moonlight tales,
"They will come" as her lullaby mutes my dada.
**
"They will come", Aye! I have seen it;
What doesn't exist, doesn't  have name.
Their names are in glories of media light
Twine in charades of empathy
They glow graciously in our moan
Yet we sport in renaissance of our mind
While our true nature is cajoled
Their names gulps our identity;
On this essence they exist.
***
Nana! Your thighs groomed my ear
To hear your phobic rhythm "They will come", always
When with their starched suits hypocrisy gazes
I silently caress our lots knowing that
In eloquence of words we were laid
To be butchered by our own pseudo wits
Yet we play zealots when they cry wolf:
Making your prophecy a twigged sensation.
***
Nana the prophetess of my birth
They have come like jackals to reap
The hate in us despite harvest phobia among labourers
Whose shells are broken like Sheila's virginity
Spilling bloods from the north to south of her thighs.
None except those called fool sages the gap
In bigotry of differences than our similarities.
****
They will come,
The chameleons preachers of sanctity
With sagged eyes mocks us to its misery.
With no limits to their network of acts
They sprout in nanoseconds of life;
Playing god of men to our awe.
These suckers of destiny are christen;
Parents, priests,  politicians even our spouses
Having one origin of shades from same tree.
*****
"They will come" Nana mutters till death
While I write with dart
Seeing that what is common is no sense.
Our fantasies reels realities to us
Even the gods knowns we are dry
Yet the tree of selfish souls fruits daily;
Sucking our humanity from us as we try
To axe them, with crocodile tears.
Nana! The selfish souls are already with us.
In your lullabies you invokes that
None should join them but who can disarm them?
.
.
.
.
.
(C) ENYIENYI OSINACHI HYCENTH

LIFE...

Just trying to dive into the mystery of life - One lives today and tomorrow, he dies.

what's then the meaning of life? why live in the first place?

Some say we are on earth to praise and worship God, ARE WE REALLY? He has the host of heaven, angel and elders doing that already.

And failure to oblige, a lake of fire will await one. that's tragedy!

with the way the world is going, I'm sure the love of many is waxing cold, and most people don't even have the love in the first place. So when I see or hear people celebrate a new born baby, I wonder if the baby will appreciate his birth after the end of his life. Wasted Years!!!

why can't we just die and rest in peace as we normally wish the dead, in peace like other animals?

#reallythinking...