open heavens

 A man sat next to me in the bus we had entered from ikorodu to mile 12. We were both waitin for the bus "the bus will be here soon" he said and soon enough it arrived. He had an earpiece on only to enter the bus and had his earpiece spoilt. As I was about to read a novel that I was about to finish, I noticed that the music he was playing on his phone was tingling in my ears. To make matters worse, he kept on listening to the same song over and over again nodding his head in approval. He had seemed like a nice man earlier on but the song he played of which I knew not what genre it was, made the ride a frustrating one. Especially when he had the speakers turned to my ears, I wish I could tell him what was going on in my mind, how badly I wanted to smash his phone. But of course! I wouldn't want to be beaten to pulp by anyone. Probably the Song was his. So I sat down in silence and wrote all my feelings in this piece wondering whether the rest of the passengers in the bus felt the same way I did.

 The BRT bus I entered from mile 12 to Fadeyi was at first a relief only to hear a male voice singing along with the old "ibile" song he was playing and my pent up frustration was getting at its edge. My only consolation was the yougurt I was sipping slowly and the fact that the music was not as loud as the one I had encountered earlier. Maryland was in a bit of confusion; a big coaster bus had an accident but no life was lost "it must have been his brakes" a passenger said. As I was writing I looked away savouring the environment. An old looking man who had sat earlier beside me had been peeping into what I was writing. He wore a white agbada and a green cap; his chubby face making me imagine how he would have looked like when he was much younger. His eyes were red and his breath smelt of alcohol "dey look what you are writing na" he said. I smiled and he dozed off only to wake up shouting at the driver who had innocently waited to carry a passenger

   I saw different faces, some who were still dressed on their sunday attires; the dress confidently covering up whatever pain they may be going through. A lot of people with different dreams, ambitions, thoughts, probably working to achieve all of it and I for one could only imagine what they were.

strange grounds

It was a lovely evening, one of those days you could get away with even though there was a bunch of workload to return to. A test on one of the mosr dreaded courses in the English department was on its way but my friend and I could not help but go for a christian show which we left soon enough for our place of abode after the praise-worship section was over.I walked briskly to where the cab park was in   school only to find the place totally deviod of cabs. The only thing found solace in was the queue waiting for cabs. curious to know whether they were all going my way, walked towards the queue searching for the most friendly looking  face. And there he was, a tall dark skinned huge boy, or perhaps a young looking old man; my first thought at the sight of his stomach was beer. "Goodevening sorry are you going to the campus ? i asked. "Yes most definately" he replied with a well composed voice. How we got into a friendly discussion was unexplainable. We talked like we have known each other a long time ago even though we had other things in mind. He talked nervously and seemed like someone who hoped for something to cling unto.And in all the words he spoke which was full of experience,I saw the little innocence in him covered with the guilt, regrets and dissapointment of a life once lived.Even though  i knew next to nothing about him, something striked a balance between us. And probably that night will change our view of life forever. so, left the stranger to swim in the thoughts of who could be just like he left me swimming in mine.

                                         
                                                  OPEN HEAVENS
                    A man sat next to me in the bus we had entered from ikorodu to mile 12. We were both waiting for the bus

Daffodil: The oil money

Daffodil: The oil money: wasn't there a time when oil never existed where frustration was a mere dream? Wasn't there a period were d leaders were after d peo...

sorry may never be enough

sometimes sorry never relieves the pain of the past
you just wished it never happened.
Never wanting to forgive yourself,
Never wanting to forget,
Trying to grasp what is lost,
Trying to regain what you will never get
ever again.
And all the hundreds of sorries will never do.

It is lost
that precious thing you had
whatever it was
you try to console yourself
Pretending it never happened
but you are no longer the same
all because of what you lost
And all the hundreds of sorries will never do.