I feel it in the windy night enkindled by orangish kerosene lamps- the fireflies adding leathery bumps to my abdomen. It feels like a galactic twilight; your eyes sedating my epicenter. But how could a girl say that which is a taboo to be said? Those three magical words believed customarily…

Beneath the crushing waves, I found myself struggling to breathe; attempting to keep my balance. My heart tumbling down my chest. The waters cringing into my ears and slapping the little breath left in my nostrils. I saw a million ideas shooting through my head "This is no way to die"…

A Poem — When the clock strikes twelve It will be midday again. The sun shall set to sleep for a while The heat will be gone and the breeze will blow. When the clock strikes twelve The clouds shall in tears pen The soil will again be fertile Sing the outburst of a new dawn! The…

A Poem — The bookmark in the pages of our love story was where we fell asleep- we stopped writing and reading and started hating and bickering. It was no more a perfect story to be passed down to our generations down into the future because I have come to realize between us…

The mind is like a minefield, where you have to tread cautiously in your thoughts, else your body goes kaboom — Whyte Queen Welcome to the mind! Where images are cooked though they be not in reality. Where the truth is safe to hang on to but it's not wrapped in roses. Where we grip lies by its beautiful talons, dying excruciatingly in our own debris of phantasms and nonacceptance.

On bloody clash between herdsmen and indigenes in Nigeria — 1. We woke to a beautiful sunrise Unmindful of the snares set to balkanize. Our breakfast was to lie in a heap of our intestine while we fall into sleep. Contused flesh, dismembered bodies see my kith and kin, hacked to death as they draw their last breath. …

I most definitely like them there, those wrecking, sinful hands that dare. I swear I crumble like rocks as you ravage my sexual community. Do not take them off, ever; those lips that seek mine passionately. I'm totally crumpled by your touch; metal physique grinding slowly to delight. Stop it. I like it, you pervert- how those hands work this magic, I'm left wanting more, needing you. Pray, you have mashed my mind! With desires and delight that sparkle Shall we start all over again?

AFRICA; OUR SPIRIT, SOUND AND COLOUR We are Africa; not because we tread her sacred soil but because we unleash our kindred spirit when the talking drum hisses. The sound of Africa is heard in the winds and we are its very quintessential essence. We hear the healing sound in roots and herbs. The colours of Africa dazzle me in the sun for we are the variegated pallette of the creator. Our hue is who we are.

Boobs swinging like royal handfans. Perspiration and aspiration in the air. Who shall dance away with the King heart tonight? Whose silhouette form shall adorn his bed? Ah!! Ashanti! Fetishistic waist beads mesmerizing the King's head with its sound and stream of colours. Her waist tweedles like cowries thrown in different…