January why do you feel so much like broken hearts?

Bathed in the new oil that Flamini advanced in Milan

Bathed in ice even though he couldn’t get a start

The first of the month; premier vas uno

Little depth but cold as Pluto

And time will pass like a toll does at first

Numbness goes softly into the chest

Pale blue because he was a white man

The treatment had commenced before he could recant

Couple monies paid the debt

And the waters remained hostile as wind violently wept

With a jolt man rose from containment

Elbows stiff as a glue stick

The second flag turned his attention

Third was laid bare on a pulpit


Crooks at the beach: The Intro

Justus had a thing for the girl next door. Yaris was a tall, dark skinned goddess. She went everywhere in a white tank top and blue jeans. 36D, he’d measured with his eyes as she walked past his house to the shops for some treats. They smiled at each other and he went back in to continue whooping Larry at Pro evolution soccer. Larry had insisted that they play that over the traditional Fifa. But an L is an L, amirite? Justus made up for his poor form in the real world with a clinical touch in the virtual one. Larry had no qualms with that.

Tonight was a good night to get wasted and hit the beach. Larry had allowed himself get dragged to yet another function. They dressed casually. Justus had on a loose Crooks and castles t-shirt that read ‘cocaine wishes, caviar dreams’ with black swimming shorts and an American flag bandana tied across his head with shades on. Larry wore enough blue to make him look like a UN peacekeeper. He had the outfit down to the beret. They met up with the two devotchkas–my, my these ladies were foxy. They didn’t stress about things much, and they knew what they wanted. Today they wanted Jus and Larry, who were indeed pleased to oblige them. Larry was a street boy born into a rich family. He had the connects for prime Afghan kush. A high that good don’t come cheap. They were about to blow these ladies’ minds. Justus greeted his lady with a smile and a hi-five. Larry hugged his girl.

They had rolled two fracks for the stroll from the shore to the beach house. Music started playing from Jus’ phone. Stay high by Tove Lo. Zara snatched Justus’ bandana from his head and started to jog off to the side. He pulled a toke on the frack, passed it to Larry and went after her. She giggled away from sight. Larry felt inspired and picked up Claire on his back, jogging intently after them. Claire laughed heartily and took the jay from his mouth so he could concentrate on his breathing. Claire was almost as slightly built as Zara, but she had a thickness about her that made her more attractive. This unnerved Larry. He believed women should behave like ladies, but he loved the free pussy so complain he won’t. He slowed down as they were approaching the beach house because he had his suspicions that Justus had started some work on Zara. Claire jumped down and kissed him. “So what do you think of the beach house?” Larry looked around its entire surface area. “It’s lovely. How long have you been coming here?” The smell of fresh sea breeze cooled their thoughts as they walked inside. “Twelve years now. We used to come here with our dad when we were younger. Since he’s passed we kinda just come here whenever we want.” Larry felt guilty again. They heard what sounded like whimpering coming from the next room. It was Zara’s voice. They cringed at the thought and poured some vodka. He asked Claire blankly. “Why don’t you respect yourself? I am not complaining at all but I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now, girl.” She replied, “what?” She removed her earphones and asked him to repeat what he’d said, feigning not hearing him. He shook. “I asked if there’s any orange juice for the vodka. Maybe we could make a screwdriver?” She smiled wanly and went to get the OJ. Larry decided that he’d just get his sexing on and go home like a good ol’ chap.

The encounter lasted a whole five minutes because she was throwing up by the time he’d finally managed to get it up. The screwdriver wasn’t the problem. The issue was that she’d had eight glasses in quick succession. Larry kept eyeing her and even once mentioned that she was drinking too much. That was on her third drink. By the eighth, she was rubbing all on his body and he was cringing like a little shit. I don’t know what is wrong with this damn Larry boy. After she threw up, Larry called Justus and asked him for his phone. He spoke to Celia and said a quick prayer for the lost souls and included Claire’s name in his twisted list of people he’d tried and failed to save. Forty-nine of Larry’s penpals as he’d liked to call them now accompanied him as tag alongs, reminding him that he had failed and therefore was not completely perfect in every form of the word. He rubbed her back as she got the last of the vomit out into the toilet bowl. “You should really think about slowing your drinking, champ. It’s not worth it if your liver revolts against you.” She puked a second time and nodded before passing out. Larry called for Justus, he was done with this bullshit. He made his way to the other room and carefully opened the door, fearing what he might see. Zara was sweating from every orifice.

Something about the way he saw her made everything change. He walked into the room and the nightlight that shone against her eyes was just the right shade of Beyoncé. She looked like his angel. Justus walked out of the bathroom just in time to see their lengthy eye-fuck. He walked right in between them and asked his bro, “what’s gwan?” Larry shook his head, staying on beat. “Zara, your girl is out of control over there. She’s been drinking like she has a serious problem, I certainly don’t mean to pry. But she had maybe nine screwdrivers and puked until she passed out. Cleaned her up and all but she might need you to assist.” Zara hadn’t noticed that one of her breasts was hanging over the edge of the bed-frame. It was glorious for Larry to pree. The gaze into her eyes was one thing but the nipple had carried him into narnia. Snatched. She quickly covered up and put on a robe. Justus walked to the balcony and lit a cigarette. The house they were in was designed like a map in call of duty modern warfare 2. It was serene but so old that it looked like it had sustained bombing. But confirmation from the ladies made it clear that this was indeed the original design of the beach house. Chic brown stones that looked like they could collapse. Smoking afghan kush in an afghan themed building in a country that had nothing to do with either. This was a trip. 

Socks & black Holes

It’s early Sunday morning and the rain has thundered for nearly twelve straight hours now. The feel of the dreary eyed room I’m in has me wondering how a street urchin could possibly survive this raucous clamor of the clouds’ tears. Spiteful. The rain never did anything to me. In fact my adoration for thunderstorms and the chaos they cause is boundless. Lights flicker once, twice, three times and buzz says it will go on till infinity. 

Infinity. What is this incredible concept? You have to call something a concept when it has no real definition. How do you define something that can never end? As a mathematician I can tell you that infinity is the “8” turning itself ready for intercourse. As a lover I’ll say it’s the definition of the time you spend laying next to your s.o. just taking in their soul and heartbeats. 
But infinity can always be defined on earth. For example that light flickering till infinity is it flickering until: the battery dies; there’s a power outage; the entire building becomes engulfed in flames; or the code in the processor experiences some bugs. Endless possibilities. 

Infinity. This concept is indeed astrophysical. Let me ask you a question. How many socks have you lost in your life? Or I’ll rephrase. How many of just one leg of socks have you lost, perhaps doing laundry? Don’t bother answering, we already agreed on an answer. What is the cause of this? Evil spirits? Magic? Black holes? Karma? Negligence? 

I don’t know, but I really like black holes so let’s do this.

“Earth-like planet” near Proxima Centauri is what we’re calling it now. The nearest planet outside our solar system that could be habitable. At about 1.3 times the size of earth and a mere 4.24 light years away, Science is saying we could have a new home. How many times have you heard this ad before? You don’t have to be a believer in Science and its growth effects on world development, but it exists and works. Through science the topics of sci-fi movies shifted over time to land on black holes. Now we’re talking about socks and alternate realities. How did we get here.

Rick and Morty, Inception, Interstellar, Star Trek. I will start by explaining my inclusion of inception in this wilde-list. Inception mentioned “dreams within dreams within dreams”. And I follow by arguing that there is a universe inside of me so when I’m shifting between dreams I am shifting between realities. So all those movies/tv-shows I mentioned above are astrophysical as hell. They break down alternate realities and black holes to you to the point that you consider the fact that your sock that you’ve searched everywhere for might just be in another plane of this same existence. In another reality, you find your second sock and you both live happily ever after.

The End.

A moment’s monument

And so the sonnet wrote;Ink that stained the pages beamed life

Pen carefully placed on sheet

The roughness of the elements within, coursing with coarseness
Merge of two distinct objects to create one

And you tell me I am not him?
Derision is but a derivative of fear

So when matter is drawn out from another “something”, do you also see my spren?
Pandering is a necessary vice;

For to think means to analyze as you write;

For when you ponder, the moment remains;

As the sonnet comes round like the day

Here it comes

I get happier every time the gecko comes

It gets fly-er every once the techno runs

We get higher as the flight returns

And dusty spiders go on their final sojourn


But Fred doesn’t last longer than a week

On critters and arachnids he often feeds

He suctions corners as though he sees weeds

Not a while passes as astrophysics intercedes


Monster man unleashes a can

The job of Fred taken from its translucent hands

On comes the mist, clean, dark and suffocating as it spans

Fred ceases to exist, under the side table, flustered and wan

Monster walks away to the side

And corners a mollusk who tried to guide–

its family of shells against the tide

CRUSH and crush and crush they die


But the shells are resilient as they’re exo–

The wave they ride wavier than XO

A little water and fruit consumed

Will see their shells regrown and exhumed


So Monster man takes a leap

He sowed evil but what did he reap?

An impromptu lesson on how animals live

Food chain does not have a term like “forgive”


And how did they die, the lizards that remain

Orange head fuckers that take it to the braim

Stone connected to catapult

Gravel hits orange and then a somersault


He’s pleased with himself now

Searching for birds flying to knock down

What was his jealousy, that he couldn’t climb walls?

Desperately wanting a climber to fall?

Frankenstein desired to be the comet that hits

Splattering flesh and skeleton to mist


Antagonized priest (a.)

She cleared my doubts 

The wind that blew blew eastward

Twenty percent; 60 deg NNE; fast

The flow created a living buzz

A chull pulled out layers and layers and layers of shame

Two sudden beats as the highstorm continued

Here came the retinue



Antagonized, and easily so

Hallaprom made a move to apologize

Yellow birds flocking their wings in air

A wave hit, letting a single spark fly

Justice will come but from where?

Sprawled out on the chull was a man

Tall, vibrant, scheming in the wind

Proximate layers lay in his span

As the figure quickly itself dismissed

What a beautiful thing, the rage of nature

Changing mood from coalesced to brusque; unrelated but unrelenting

The people

They started, continued; and remain still, docile

Whips and chains were brandished

Bolts secured them to each other, effective in excavating the underground

Oh how they have truly, truly suffered

In the beginning they were weaned with beer and mirrors

Partners dashed to the wind of the sails of the “big, scary house atop the sea

How does one move a house?

Dancing and cheers changed to dying and tears

Following the promise of a mirror and a beer

The vanity of seeing one’s own self thrive, an eternal drive

Teary eyed families split apart now aboard the ship to set sail

[This “new world” fascination has become a welcome lie]*

Truth dissolved in the embers of the flames that burnt the remnants of their dignity

What have we not lost?

Side by side they were placed–foot to face–a ship decking them low in their disgrace

But how did they move a house on a sea? A tsunami should be the only thing that could

Back in the decks, heads could only be turned to eat–space nefarious

Men were essentially slaughtered, turning but an inch everyday below deck

Cargoes were tossed overboard and into the ocean

The culprits were gods amongst men so they vowed to themselves to do as they wished

The deceased were uncountable; nothing but the ocean floor’s companion now

Men, women and their kids filled the cotton fields

They covered the underground of nations that only knew vanity

But why must they now go for our tender vein?

The blood must have seemed so succulent that the atrocities didn’t matter

So far these people were flexible enough to bend far enough to be defiled, and;

to have the calmness to remain their perennial slaves

Why then would it matter?

Happiness was taken away and replaced with a dream–an endless wish

Ingrained in each and every one of their servants

Go! Yearn ye, to live, eat and breathe, abroad.


*An observation.

Aphorisms to ponder

There are no terrible drivers, just us

Have you ever seen the average Nigerian driver operate a motor vehicle? No words can adequately describe how we continuously fall into the same accident traps. It is not a race! Get this first and you are already halfway to glory. But that is just one half of the coin. On the other side we have the drivers that are excessively patient or afraid of the road. They probably cause more accidents if you factor in the impatience they cause to the drivers around them. We all have some stubbornness don’t we? I’m definitely not one to talk. One moment I’m giving a lady space on the roundabout exit, the next I’m breezing past someone trying to enter into the expressway. The point I’m aiming to make is that you should be ready for an accident if you don’t prepare for one.


Power is quite easily attained if you were to compare it to climbing a 40 foot wall. You cannot gain power without immersing yourself in a grueling, toiling climb through the wilderness and high streets; without tasting caviar and creme brûlée and the occasional akara ball. To be truly powerful you must first suffer to make things easy for yourself. A simple sacrifice.

Insurance is a scam

Insurance is one of the most circular scams to ever exist. The whole concept of expecting something bad to happen (even though it is unlikely) fucks with the mind. But its importance is well known to us from others’ misfortune. Hence we need to purchase-and constantly keep upgrading-our insurance packages for our cars, boats, lives.

Mack truck tenders

I played chicken with a Mack truck. A trailer almost fell on me today. I don’t know ‘for sure’ but I definitely suspected some foul damage to its axle as it moved down the road and marauded next to me for two good minutes. I was as good as dead. What a dangerous time to be alive, amirite Lagos?

Breathe, stretch, shake

And let it go. The key line in an unsuspecting sentence. Repay what you want with what you wish, but be informed that letting go is the only way to thoroughly move beyond an abrasive situation. Agree that it doesn’t matter and get going with your life.


One of the most peculiar things known to us is feeling. We often arrive at the same emotions without going through the same experiences. The explanation is open to interpretation by us experts. Essentially the explanation banks upon theories, only to be understood by us once we lean back to our decrepit pasts.

Thunder and lightning

Thunder booms when we hear rain fall. Lightning comes before thunder because light travels like its father–broad, sharp and mostly negative. Its brightness indicates that something dark is coming. Sometimes when you look in the eye of a storm it resembles a very live party, thunder and lightning going for a swim in the ocean with their sundresses and disproportionately mixed mimosas. A madness.


Free your mind, your body and soul. Show your true self in one of the most gracious forms the brain can understand. Your body movement reflects your current state. If you’re feeling feral it isn’t difficult for all to see. Do your dance frequently and watch your worries dissipate.

Slaves to the mothership

I picture lines of twelve different shades

Knaves, unscrupulous and brimming

Blades like dothraki or valerian

The twelve strode the red sand as crustaceans skimming.

For what does it profit man

To appear so gaunt

Desolation his orifice and rood so tan

To seem to want more

Allez! The echoes rang out

The feeling leaving them sore

Free, but out didn’t resolve much

Blue pearlescent line shimmered

Its flailing caused the rest of its light to flush.

The eleven teetered on the edge

Of the world

The mist cracking a wedge,

With four lines did the fraulein fall.

Seven had moved through the maze

Crucifix tight across the chest

Red sandy Arizona spread across

Journey with purpose led the lines west

The king was in their hold

Captivity drove a few men mad

These twelve, now seven, had grown bold

Obstacles daring to shut their path

Stretching the canyon failed them

For two lines had lost girth, libido.

The five said an oath to end the king

A sepulcher greeted with mirth

A single cut took the helm off

One that required the life of two

Green and viscous pink the trade off.

Leaving three to tango home

Mothership was omniscient,

an uncountable series of line drones

Grey, black and white dribbled turpentine

The blood from the king’s head

Greetings and color swatches gave them smiles

As the ship pulled out of the deep red.


‘Twas a very versatile view, visions of velociraptors had covered

The vocal sound; one that had aggrieved. And deceieved, Violet.

Like vox speaking vitriol

Violence was heard by novices; angst and vengeance by the more advanced

A vivacious void was his face, victory of vilified proportions

This absence was indeed vanity

Vein containing the source, evolving into removal of the veil

An eternal vanguard followed, constantly verifying his valor

Squalor come, vodka go, visions increasingly vivid and vapid ala vertigo

Vynyl records to vines–how we have suddenly, but surely, cut short

The delivery.