Friday, December 31, 2010

Holding The Ashes.

Holding the ashes in my small hands
I weep for those who feel like I do.
I cry for those working the lands
Without a penny to live like you.

Holding the ashes in my bare hands
I feel pain and sorrow of others,
As slaves are beaten with demands
And you, luxurious with lovers.

Holding the ashes below my head
I think about all those burned in the bombing like slaves.
Those who were starved until they were dead
Children & Fathers & Wife
While you never hunger to the grave.

Holding the ashes in my fingers
I let them blow away with the breeze,
Slipping away;so none lingers
Leaving you to bow down on your knees.

Last night, evil people determined to turn the joys of fellow Nigerians to ashes detonated a bomb at a barracks market in the Federal Capital City.
Basking in their nefarious success in Jos on Christmas eve, they have once again knifed at the heartstrings of a nation decked out in gaiety, celebrating new year's eve. This is extreme evil. It is wicked. It defies all that we believe in, and stand for as a nation.
R.I.P to those who lost their lives/Loved ones,in the Abuja Bomb Blast/Christmas Eve. My condolences goes out to u all. The culprits shall burn in hell & their brains shall explode and sound like fireworks from the most remote village. Edithsmiles suggest we all keep praying for our nation. We need more than toll gate or movie industries or what-have-you in this country! We need God and we need Him quick. People can't be killed just like that in a modern day country! Is either the government does something, or we do. And hell we can't wait till they get the "agbada" stuffed in their brains out,so we are gonna stay strong and keep praying ! In this year, we are gonna be a BURNING & A SHINNING Light. Edithsmiles wishes ALL her readers /follower a HAPPY NEW YEAR. Stay blessed.

Edithsmiles-1.1.11 (Make A Wish).

Thursday, December 30, 2010

SALT (Dying To Live).

Maybe I've been more afraid of living;
Than dying-.
To die is to be free;
To live is to be strong.

After losing your breath,
Nothing else is expected.
But after taking a breath,
You have to take one more.

You do one act, and you're remembered forever.
But if you live for someone in this world
It may seem like forever before it's over
To do one may be what's expected of you.
To do the other may just be taken for granted.
But if you combine the two;
At the right time
It may come to you that you need nothing more.

Death is not the enemy, you see,
It takes the soul and sets it free.
But love is the cage which captures your heart
And grief is the thief who rips it apart.

I have held my tears as long as I could.
What good are tears? 
Will they bring anyone back from the dead?
Will they heal the hole in my heart?
Will they tell me it’s all right, because it’s not.

Tears are just salt water, like the water in our blood.
Tears are my eyes bleeding the pain that fills me till I want to scream endlessly.
Tears may help me sleep but they don’t take away the pain.
I can work around it and over it and under it, but I can’t get through it.

Salt water stings in an open cut, tears just make my pain ache even more.

In Loving Memory of Elizabeth Abba (1992-2010)---»E-smiles

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Word Around Town Tonight.

Mist of ancient civilisations is exhaled as we breathe,
As stones retain their secrets beneath soil; And rivers, their destinies.

We are complex in our simplicity,
Simple in our complexity -
We seek,
But cannot say where, what or why -
We only continue to move forward into the unknown;
Slightly fearful; A bit adventurous; Abundantly mortal.

Fields ploughed under shall reveal a new chance at rising;
Lakes turn and unveil their crustaceans dreams.

As tempestuous winds blow,
We quietly weep;
Our tears are carried aloft into the embrace of clouds,
To be returned with gentle rain that soothes and heals.

We dress ourselves for the day's intentions,
Rarely glancing in the mirror;
Unless to smooth wrinkles of cloth,
knowing our faces cannot be altered
Except by time's wretched, unswerving hands.

The word around town is that,
We are unruly children,
And still in our wildness.


Sunday, December 26, 2010


She sparkles in the dark
She sings in the silence
She dances in the sky
She paints in the ocean
She writes in the land
She sleeps in my heart

Her name is Spark
And she sparks my mind

Her hair reaches long and far
Her fiery hair flows and burns
Heated to the touch but never burns

Her body is long and flexible
She is fast and slow at the same time
She has small defined features
And softness on her skin
The dress is long and white
Reminding me of a Goddess
Standing tall, proud, and powerful

To me she might as well be a Muse

Her name is Spark
And she sparks my mind

She's my best friend
Always understanding because she understands all
She's both a fairytale and a real story
She laughs with me and cries with me
On the outside she is all the beauty I desire
On the inside she is just like me

Her name is Spark
And she sparks my mind

Friday, December 24, 2010


Let there be peace.

Peace in the Four Corners, that it should be
a promise, and real;

Peace in our nations, that the specter should be
turned on its heel;

Peace in our cities, that fear should abandon
our streets and walkways;

Peace in our schools, that violence should be
routed, and always;

Peace in our churches, that God's children should be
families, assembling;

Peace in our homes, that our young ones should
cease in their trembling;

Peace in our hearts, that our tempers should be
cancelled and curbed;

Peace in our words, that our masses should be
studied, and stirred;

Peace in our creations, that our galleries should be
temples, adorned;

Peace in our visions, that Love, in our time,
should be born, and reborn;

Peace in our deeds, that never a doubt should
awake, and arise;

Peace in our souls, that it should be
mirrored in our eyes.

Let there be peace
Because we are what we aspire to be and to have...

Thursday, December 23, 2010


Today, my lover and I,
Went out for a walk.
Along the path, aligned flowers:
She leaned over-
Pulling at a stem.
For me??
She tore the plant...
At the node.
She grabbed for me a set of:
Alternate, palmately compound flora.
They were, white, petite.
White is symbolic-
Innocence, love, passion.
Oh! There were flowers galore.
They were different colours,
Different genes.
But my lover gave me these-
Pure white flowers.
As if to say:
I love you more than,

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

City Greetings From Lagos.

Cloud of buildings gather
In shafts of architectural delight
As the noise grows silently,
Overtaken by thousands of
Thoughts and their shadows as
They tread over city side walks

In the olden days of photos
Where occupants swam in
Shallows of black and white
A hat was tipped to greet
The lady of a graceful wave,
And the child with a playful stare.

The city glimmered as it sat
Reading the pages of each person,
Each building, and each sound.
Faces flashing brighter than the
Lights, each one unlike the other,
But all united in the same sound

And the city's only reply was the
Wave of windows opening,
The honking from impatient drivers,
The conductors cursing passengers,
The public school students fighting at bustops,
The courtesy of trees in the center park,
The thirsty cry of new born citizens,
And the blanket of brick apartment in parkview
Over family in the night.

Monday, December 20, 2010

We Three; My Shadow, My Echo & Me.

Three figures sit amongst a table.
Cloaked in shadow; they wait.
Their eyes are swift,
They dart and twitch at each sound,
Their breathing is heavy,
Three chests heave in and out in almost sync.

The first drums his fingers on the stained mahogany.
*Click* *Click* *Click*
The rhythm is slow and therapeutic;
As if to lull the others to sleep.

The second has become agitated,
The slight sighs and groans indicate boredom.
*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*
The rhythm quickens.

The third stares off into space, thinking, drifting between reality and dream scape
*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*

The second stands from his seat,
Cracks his neck and disappears, replaced by a feather.
*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*
The rhythm pounds into the eardrums of the two remaining figures, quickening still.
The rhythm ceases as the first figure stands and disappears as the second had done.
Leaving the third trapped in his woes and sorrows, his dreams and perversions.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Letter.....

The letter in the doorway,

The knife was thrown away.

The gun taken out of the cupboard,

She’s not going to stay another day.

Blood shower over the carpet,

It had just gotten too hard.

Red stains the bedrooms floor,

And nothing but a scream and a gunshot, could be heard.

As the mother returns from work,

Parking her car slowly, with care.

She knows inside something is wrong,

But she didn’t know her daughter wasn’t there.

Ignoring the letter in front of her,

She slowly opens the door.

Everything then went black.

She broke down at what she saw.

The lifeless body on the floor,

The shotgun on her bed,

She’s not in pain anymore.

She’s not in pain, she’s dead.

Another life wasted,

Another life gone,

Another family ruined,

Because she’s never coming home.

What was the point?

Is the reason good enough?

They didn’t listen to her words.

They didn’t know she wasn’t that tough.

Her boyfriend cried and cursed at the wind,

As her little sister sat before her,

The little girls’ fingers entwined with hers,

The little girl who adored her.

The little girl who stayed by her side,

Stayed with her ‘til the end,

The little girl whom held in her other hand,

The letter that didn’t get sent.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Grass is Greener On the Other Side.

A lonely crow looking for food,
A child with an attitude,
A young girl that lost her pride,
The grass is greener on the other side.

A wandering man with no place to go,
A child freezing, covered in snow,
A broken heart, trying to hide,
The grass is greener on the other side.

A town crushed by a natural disaster,
A tired woman, cars rushing past her,
A groom running from his bride,
The grass is greener on the other side.

An orphan crying by their parents' graves,
A day in the past for hardworking slaves,
A person covered in tears they've cried,
The grass is greener on the other side.

A bird with a broken wing,
A cut with a painful sting,
A child whose fish has died,
The grass is greener on the side.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Oh, Pretty Girl !

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you hide your face?
Mask it with your soft, brown locks?
Cover your lovely brown eyes?
Hiding herself from the world,
For she is scared of the unknown

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you cry alone?
Is there no one to cry with you?
No one to share your sorrows with?
Crying in solitude,
For no one understands her pain

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you sit in silence?
Avoid all conversation?
Speak in a low whisper?
No one can hear her,
For no one will listen

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you curse that person?
That person looking back at you?
Your reflection in the mirror?
She wishes she can be,
Everything she is not.

Oh pretty girl,
Fear not ever again!
For these struggles will end
And the hate will fade.
Your eyes will sparkle
And into that mirror you will see;
A pretty girl

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I Wasn't Expecting to Meet A Demon When I Walked Through Heaven's Gates

This is the day I’ve been waiting to encounter. The redolent fragrance of charcoal under thick juicy steaks and the crisp feel of clothing dried on the line. The birds chirruping their daily song while my friends and I lay on the springy bed of green that blankets the invigorating brown soil beneath us. We satirize the past, and all the memories we’ve acquired over the years. The drama and everything that was such a big deal in Elementary school, such as who sat adjacent to who at the lunch table, is all behind us now. We've got our whole lives ahead of us. A life of pleasure and fun.
No curfews, No parents! No assignment !
Just college and bunch of friday parties. Our hearts skipped for each thought of the outside world, we weren't expecting to meet a demon when we walked through Heaven's Gates

Remember when you were young? You
could run among the trees and feel the touch of wind and sun and dream of being
a Fireman or a princess. Or maybe Andy Warhol painting during recess?

Then you grew up. Discovered the dirty lies and the way dreams shatter. And you tried so hard. You said it didn't matter. You always remembered to smile. Even though you cried
when your dog died.

Remember the first time you fell in love, or thought you did? Even that didn't stop you; even though the pain almost did.

After all there was always tomorrow and
tomorrow and tomorrow.
Then one day, tomorrow  came and you
realised that nothing changes. Days go by and you get older and weary
and slowly you die inside.

Once upon a time, happier ever after. The stories we tell are the stuff of dreams. Fairy tales don't come true. Reality is much stormier. Much murkier. Much scarier.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Sparks Of Light ; All Those Pretty Lights.

This universe is bleak...
You could stay here, staring at the darkness, or
You could allow those stars to catch your eyes...
You'll some how start to yen for their sparkling aura...
Their golden hues, some how blinking,
On and off and back on again...
So close but yet so far,
The sun isn't in your view yet,
It's hidden behind one of the planets...
Some day, the sun will come out...
Sheer bliss that day will be...
It will replace the melancholy feel of this universe,
with euphoric... Exhilaration...
Sure the darkness will still be there...
You'll have to ask yourself;
Are the small sparks of light,
Worth this seemingly endless stretch of darkness?
Will they hold you in enough light,
Until the sun comes out?

Right now, the stars all all I have,
And for some reason,
That's enough light for me...
They're my sparks of light in the darkness...

Some day, my sun will come out...

Until then,
I'll be here staring out into the stars...


Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Yes, Man.

Lets role play for a moment here
You be Fake and I’ll be Clear
Pretending all your days away
And I will mean the words I say
You say yes when you mean no
And I’ll be a victim of your show
You’re so transparent all the time
I see right through you on a dime
You walk into somebody’s life
And burn your bridges, twist the knife
Words have been used for guys like you
Like fake and phony, and flaky too.
I have no use for blatant fools
The things you say, you’re such a tool
I gave to you this benefit
That what you said were words you meant
But you made me come to this resolve
You’re a “Yes” man who won’t evolve.
You have a weakened soggy will,
You stand for nothing  so you sit still.
When you look inside of who you are
Don’t you see where you’ve set the bar?
I have caught you in a couple lies
I have witnessed how you play both sides
You are a servant of one belief
If you play nice you won’t catch grief.
For whatever reason this has worked for you
You be agreeable, who care’s what’s true
Your biggest flaw is a coping skill
That’s now unhealthy, I know the drill
You need to wake up and change your ways
Leave behind your half hearted days
I hate to say it but you’re just a breeze
Weaving in and out of tree’s
I will be more definitive,
I will be myself or why else live?
You don’t know who you are
I see flaws where you see dark.
From where I am standing over here
I will tell you this, I will be clear
I don’t want to be a spineless twit.
I don’t want my words to suddenly split.
No, I am not perfect all of the time
In fact, the flaws I see in you…have helped me see mine.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Night Fell On Day Time.

We viewed our lives as an instrument
Without actually having it
We wrote about our happy lives
Except me, no not this time

As my guitar leans upon a broken window
Wet and discoloured music;
Lost for all I know
Its strings no longer able to play;
Music never came out anyway

Twisted, swirled, and coiled up
The strings are caught in random stuff
All broken, cut, and out of tune
The right description for this lune

The neck is cracked almost in half
Because it was torn in going two paths;
Rock and country aren't the same
When you love one the other is lame

Silently taking over
Wishing to change everything
Fooling the fools
Humming the silent wish
Outsiders looking in
Touching the beauty
Breaking the silence

It's dusty and rusty and beyond repair
not even good enough to use for spares
So against the broken window it will lay
And then the people will throw it away.
And my night shall fall during the day.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Shadows & Sounds.

As I listen to the sounds from down the hall
I become paralysed by dread and fear
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall

Hearing objects crash and then fall
I know that something sinister is here
As I listen to the sounds from down the hall

I hide under the blankets, and curl into a ball
Leaving an opening from which I can peer
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall

The lines are dead, no emergency call
I sense a presence is drawing near
As I listen to the sounds from down the hall

A particular sound, is it a slither or a crawl?
And in the doorway a shape begins to appear
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall

I realize there is nothing I can do at all
this fateful knowledge fills my eyes with tears
As I listen to the sounds from down the hall
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall


A Villanelle. (Also to be contd)
Please, all comments, suggestions & honest criticism are humbly welcome .

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The Life & Times Of a Piece of Paper.

He took crayon to paper,

Such bright coloured paper

And pinked it with glitter and glue.

The words made no sense.

But in their expense,

He poured out his mind of un-filtered hue.

And he couldn't reach the counter;

Where the telephone rang

And he said hello to whoever was there.

And mommy wiped the stains off his face, even though she knew they’d come back

And daddy tucked him into bed and kissed him on the forehead

And story time put him to sleep

And he made dreams

He took pencil to paper,

Such widened, lined paper

And practised his a-b’s and 2-3’s.

He coloured off the lines

Of smudges and designs

But they were not very pleased.

And he could swipe through the counter

Where he’d grab his paper bag

And run off somewhere

And mommy kissed him goodbye, but he wiped off the lipstick

And daddy was hard at work; at least that was what she told him

And he threw a tantrum when daddy couldn’t read a story

And mommy tried to.

He took pen to paper,

Such plain, blue-lined paper

And wrote of what he was told to.

The words were generic.

Thoughts turned numeric;

- But he got an A - who cares what he wanted to do?

And he ran by the counter

To grab the keys and some cash

And left for somewhere - he can’t remember

And that woman screamed for him, without avail

And that man wasn’t there - he was never there

And he fell asleep at his friend’s couch - at someone's couch

And he was out

He took dust to paper

Such tattered, torn paper,

And laced it with powder and spit.

A pathetic, flicked ember

In the cold of December;

Whispering to nothing, "one last hit".

And he couldn't reach the counter

Where the beeping dial tone;

Came on after he typed one 9 and one 1.

And the woman was long gone, not caring

And the man was down deep

And he fell to pieces, but never resting

And he was out… cold

And the paper burned

And the fire ate

And the neighbours screamed

And the tires screeched

And the water drenched

And the memories singed

And the body cold; Was held dear by the woman

And the boy saw his daddy

And his mommy soon came

And so he took pencil to paper

Such faded, frail paper

And wrote of what he had felt

Just before the smudges in the beeping car pulled him back

From somewhere - he can't remember

And his mother cried

And his father died

And he was in bed

And fell asleep one last time…

With a crumpled piece of paper by his bedside.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

I Saw a Man That Wasn't There.

He's right behind me,
lurking like a snake;
I can see him moving.

Memories swim through me like
parasites ready to feed.
I remember what was stolen from me;
is that you I see? Are you my thief?

My stomach drops,
heat rushes through my skin;
pores produce a cold sweat.
Hyper ventilation.

I'm frozen.
He's watching me,
touching me with his deranged mind.
His hands painted with putrid sin.

I turn around-
nobody's there.
Have I finally begun to lose my mind?
Insanity sets in;
It suits me well.

••This poem is the second part of my series on "The Fear of darkness " . Please, all your honest comments, criticism, & observations are paramount to E-smiles.• •

When The Autumn Moon Is Bright.

I am not alone
I can feel it in my bones
The shifting darkness
Fear; more then I can express
I cannot see, think or hear
All I can feel is fear

Darker than the endless night
Darkness around me like airborne blight
Consumed by engorging shadows
At the mercy of the dark hallows
Ominous aura throughout the halls
Dark around me; like unholy falls

Breathing irregular and fast
Senses gone but fear outlasts
Alone, afraid
Being shrouded by black shade
Obfuscation of all surroundings
It can scent my fear

The 'it' I speak of is the creature with me
Watching my uncontrollable fear with glee
It prowls behind me, breathing down my neck
I turn around, but cannot see even a speck
But wait-I can see something glowing,
Glowing eyes, shifting and growing

Gazing into my fearful eyes
The fear seems to incise
The eyes continue to grow,
Yellow footprints in black snow
I can no longer breath, I fall down, clawing my throat
I can feel a gash, engraved into the cartilage of my throat.

*This poem obviously has to do with someone who has phobia for darkness,I tried to imagine how someone who suffers such phobia ,feels at night. And I hope I potrayed it well enough.
It has another part, "I Saw a Man That Wasn't There" which also takes us through the character,hallucinating in the dark. I hope you enjoy*
Please, All your honest Comments, Criticism , Observations are paramount to E-Smiles

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Your Silly Little Fool.

Keep looking at me like there's nothing more to see,
Just stare when I make myself look like a fool,
Laugh at my failures,
Smirk at the smallest of my attempts,
I try to keep the happiness,
I try to keep my pride,
But you're always taking that,
Now I am a fraud,
My sanity is waning,
My self respect is gone,
All of it to make you see,
There's more to me that I used to go and hide,
You see me as a failure,
Although you tell me otherwise,
You say I'm perfect and that there's no better person,
I crave your attention but the more I get the more I die inside,
Am a toy in which you can throw around,
Am I not allowed to have a happy ending,
Slowly dying,
Crying for myself,
Weak and unstable and people wonder why,
It's because I changed and became your silly fool,
My heart is slowly breaking,
Twisiting to try to fit in your desire,
I've never been good enough to hold a good thing down,
Now I live in constant fear of how I'll live this down,
But for now I am just your silly little fool.

Friday, November 5, 2010

The Night Belongs To The Poets & Madmen.

We Dream of Living

As we sleep, the world moves forward.
We beg for it to take us back.

The ebony skies once danced with lightning,
reflections of beauty only nature's eyes behold.

As we sleep, we dream of living,
we dream of having something more.
Regretting things left unfinished
and of things we have left unsaid.

We wonder, if it would be better
to remain broken under this
cold, cold earthly tomb that holds us.

We dream of skies that shine brighter
and a world with far less to fear.

As we sleep, we dream of something...
we dream of our heavens, or hells.
Questioning if this is a lie
and wondering how long we dreamt.

We realize, only too soon
that we can only dream of life
and death consumes our empty thoughts.

Calmness as I traverse these stairs
Darkness ahead, but I don’t care
Ghosts welcoming me home
I slip into bed, and I’m alone

We dream, and desire, and fail.
Six feet holds us back like steel chains.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Song Bird.

I'm sitting beneath the old oak tree,
Feeling light and feeling free.
I hear a sweet song fall upon me.
And I slowly drift to sleep.

The song birds voice is full of magic.
It can be beautiful. It can be tragic.
All the other birds wish they had it.
And so that song bird sings.

I can hear its melody in my dreams.
As warm and comforting as summer sun beams.
My consciousness is ripping at the seams.
I feel I may never wake.

The song is powerful and truly hypnotic.
Stronger than the doctor's narcotics.
With a foreign tune, harmony exotic.
This music; so unique.

This fowl is a symphony all on its own.
Wings like drums, vocals like a xylophone.
Talent in every feather and bone.
I wish that bird was mine.

But alas, that bird is forever free.
And so it flies away from me.
My dream is over. I begin to see.
I am all alone.

So I stand and I look around.
Knowing well, that bird cannot be found.
And when I am done I sit back down.
And shed a single tear.

I do not cry because I'm sad.
I do not cry because I'm glad.
I do not cry because it was bad.
I cry because I know.

I know one day soon I will return.
In hopes that I might possibly earn,
That song for which I always yearn.
From the lovely song bird.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Eleven Mondays.

Not a beaten, broken child
Not a victim of abuse
Never saw my daddy drink
Never felt his fierce fist.

No ghostly memory in my past
Except that one…
…and that’s not so bad

Screaming from shadows cast aside
The sun drifts away from where I hide
Such darkness echoes through these halls
Such painful reminders upon its walls

Such life I seemed to once portray
Such naivety begging to be betrayed
Weaving ghosts call out my name!
Whispering demons discuss my shame!

So why do my eyes burn with tears?
Why does my throat tighten?
Why do I feel heavy?
Why can’t I answer “why”?

No traumatic past to haunt me
No scars of abuse
No maltreatment

Yes I’m different
Yes I feel different
No, I don’t understand

There’s no reason for this darkness
No cause for this turmoil
Insanity it may be
But I feel sane –

– Can I feel sane if I feel wrong?

Not a happy, healthy girl
But they don’t guess I’m broken
Not a cheerful, smiley girl
Still they don’t know I’m hurting

How can I talk about this pain
When I don’t know its causes
How can I talk
without words?

I can’t
I must
I can’t

The Old Graveyard.

Across the dark expanse my worries flew;
Nothing made sense
Spinning in all directions
The ground shifted beneath me
It came closer and closer
Faster and faster
Until I hit a Cool damp pavement
The taste of hot blood
Running from cheek to chin
Jumbled thoughts in my head
My head reeling
Questions swirled in my ears
Spinning in different directions
My eyes wanted to close
I tried to crawl
The grass came close to my nose
Cool, damp, earth

Old, dark and scary,
The gate eerily creeks open.
A ghastly breeze in the air.
The winds carry the cries,
Down towards the town.
And everlasting song is heard.
Tombstones everywhere,
Two or three angels in sight.
Whispers and cries can be heard in the air,
Echoes of the people who shed their tears,
And whispered their prayers to the dead.
Not a single living form is seen,
No flowers or plants,
No birds or animals anymore.
People hardly ever come up the hill,
To this old rundown graveyard.
So the dead are free to roam,
These hills of the old forgotten town.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Behind Shattered Glass.

Lighting flashes brightly across the black satin sky,
The greenish gray clouds with their Erie glow,
Race across the sky like winged giants,
Who howl their threats to drawn Her with their bucket of rain.

She is Left in the hollow vanity,
A fracture shell of life,
Breaking shadows,
Bursting through incandescent lights,
She cant fix the broken; 
She cant beat the bruised;Her Tears fall with no one to catch.

Black as night eyeliner,
Bloody red lipstick,
Dresses that seem to float as bat wings in a windy night.
Yet a kind smile.

Nail marks behind Her back,
Knife cut scars on Her wrists, 

She picks up a piece of shattered glass
And drags it across her thigh

She presses a little harder....
And on her face there's a smile with a twist.

She gets home
And keeps her mouth shut
Of course, its after midnight,
Her dad is belligerently drunk

She doesn’t have a mom
She ran out when she was twelve
She has no other family,
She has no one to tell.

Even if she did,
She probably wouldn’t
Cause facing the pain was something
She had to do, but couldn’t.

These are the rods that cripple her heart;
They Pierce every dream;

Every steamy passion loses it essence;
Until She becomes a bleeding lump;

Some terminal canary
Imprisoned in her head.

The thunder roars
The lightening flashes
The rain adores.

When dust settles but then it blows;
Suitcase in hand, hastily packed with trembling fingertips
A cut on her wrist and a smile on her face.

Your Questions, Opinions,Criticism & Ideas are humbly welcome. 
Thanks for your minutes,


Sunday, August 29, 2010

Unopened Letters To The World.

Cold sunday evening;
Looking at the frame...
She has tears that are scared of her face,
She grabbed a coat,
She headed south.
To the local beach..
The wind blew,
Across; the leaves fell.
The wave from the ocean is unsettle,
She moved a little closer..
Her hair was moist;
A little fertiliser.
She thought of all that has been..
She moved a little more closer..
She let the water flow;
It settled at the tip of her toe..
She moved....

When blue skies turned to gray,
She settled and lay..
She felt the chilly sand..
She ran her hands through her hair,
It was thick; Like his palms
She watched the lovers ride the horse,
Her mind was restless,
She was Hanging by a Moment.

And then the moon shone,
With the reflection of a shadow,
She saw his footprint..
She knew he has gone with the wind;
Which causes the ocean to be unsettle,
She remembered magic;
Then She imagined her,
His decision; Something she wasn't,
Maybe prettier; Maybe with a virgin hair
Maybe her waist is like a heap of wheat,
Maybe she had a Dark hair; brown eyes
Maybe he saw the world in her eyes; maybe he was blind..
But Like the wave; she was unsure
As brave as the golden sun.
She stood up;
With the tip of her finger,
Inscribed "love is a beautiful thing"
And watched the unsettled wave wipe it away.
Yes, There it was;
Her unsettled fear of loving again.;
Her unopened letters to the world.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Leaving Song; The Leavers Dance; The Lonesome Road.

Black and Blue and Shades of Gray,
In dark hope and lost love
I sit cold and alone,
Against the brick wall.
The tears flow; A light Metalic Blue.
And I knew I was becoming weak.

The mystical water of the Night,
Flowing down my reddened check,
Into the depth of my skin,
Where There's a torn wall;
The Angel and A Dark River,
In my heart beat; Sounds the worries,
The angel cries goodbye;
The beast runs with the stolen heart.
This is the day of suffering
Oh! Oh! My purified soul is Free of love.

Broken souls fly on altered wings,
With riot witches over dreadful things,
Charming beasts sodomize your gash.
And you embrace denial,
Of being an accessory to murder.

You set my heart high above the clouds,
I let you reel me in,
When you got my heart as high as it would go,
You dropped me from the hands I trusted,
With the silence of the heart I adored,
My heart landed to its death.
There are too many pieces;
It looks like grains of sand.
I could never pick it up;
It slips through my hands and falls,
Into this sea of Darkness.

Tainted lives fill the fire and the lake
Death has lost its gravity;
The song has lost its rhythm;
The dancers have grown weary;
The road has been left to hate.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

02:20 (Elevator Love Letters)

Breathe; Let Go,
Stretch your chin;
Move ur jaws,
Give movement to your tongue but
Watch the serpent in it
Dont be a beast without a beauty,
Hate but take time to love,
The sinner is fake and proud,
The sinner who doesnt Love,
My hands are cold,
My feets are numb,
Somewhere ill need a map,
Ill follow your footprints.
Love is not a castle built in illusions and false hopes,
Safe ur strength and say nothing.
Breathe the air of Love,
Exhale all your fears and doubts,
If I die,
I'll tell saint Pete,
That I cant come in without you,
Awaken not the leaves with the sound of mourning;
Women restling;Men sobbing!;
Kids with eys widen in terror.
For I speak to the one I love at the loss of my breath;
May death be far away from  your door.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Adrenaline. (Prom Night Poem)

Once; Twice; Three times.
Black hair; Olive skin; Lithe body.
Easy charm; Laughing eyes ; Sexual heat.
I searched for words to explain,
Why my heat raced more than my legs,
Why the sun isn't in your eyes,
And the moon hidden in your dimples.

Images appear and merge
One with another
These images are my dreams
These images were my future
These images are my nightmare,
These images are you.
My vision dims,
Shadows closing in,
As my eyes go sleepy,....

Morning sun; Eye bags
I feel a scream make its way up my throat
But all I can manage to get out is the image of you,
Not a scream,not a word,
Passion or Obsession?
Just adrenaline.
I see shadows;
Long shadows;
Small ones;Thoughts of you-
Accelerating my heart beat..

I miss my nightmare.
For that is the only place i could dance with you,
Passion or obsession.
No rythm to your waist,
Not one sight of imperfection,
The rush of blood,
The speed of my heart beat,
Must be Adrenaline.

I am without roots
Broken and incomplete
Wasting away.
Im blown away by your presence,
Physics, Chemistry. Explain Adrenaline.
Every attempt lessens me
I am less than I am
Less than I can be
Searching in vain
For someone to fill me.
Not with laughter,
Not with dreams without nightmares,
But with Adrenaline,
When your lips knocks at mine.

On prom night,
I took her away,
I didn't kill her,
I didnt know for what reason
Left her to the mercies of hunger for hours;
My starving passion,
Engraved obsession;
Then we danced with no music,
I didn't feel the passion,..
Just Adrenaline.
I loved your attention.
I craved your attention.
I fed on your attention.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The Traffic in The Tunnel.

I never thought I'll be late for Adanne's baby dedication,considering the fact that this is her first male issue,after 5girls and 3 lost issues! I should be there to break the kola; to say the opening prayer,to prove to her yoruba mother in law that the fact that their wombs are tired by their mothers,until they get married,doesn't mean that we igbos,that ours are untempered,with go about misusing it! I wanted to be there for everything but only to hear her pronounce the name,the walk of tears on her cheek and the brilliant resistance to kneel down and weep while she says ''CHINURUOKPUANYI SAMUEL OLUWAPELUMI ADEBISI' She wold look beautiful no doubt. My sister has always looked radiant even i her times of trials. Now God has blessed Her,she would tie her head gear in the yoruba way..the 4ft plus method.She would smile at wrong doings and forgive her husband if he gets drunk.I wanted to take some cartoons of red bull too,but for the traffic in the tunnel.

I was already getting angry and frustrated,all because of the traffic in the tunnel. I did not mind using okadas,but it seemed to me that okada riders also dreaded the tunnels. I wind down to inhale the fresh air,the mixture of purified dust from a distance outside of the traffic in the tunnel and flames from the women roasting corn and plantain! It didn't seem so fresh and cleared up as i thought,so i quickly wind up and increased the volume of the radio! I thought about Allison. I thought about our 3kids. I pictured life without 4 of them,the space on the mattress each night,nobody to run and embrace me so tightly,when i get back from work. I thought of my plans to meet my lawyer,whose office is seated 4buildings after Mr.BIGGS,just outside the traffic in the tunnel.

I should be doing the right thing. Allison told me that she got kissed by her boss! What kind of woman,married i must say,get kissed while at work. She cried when she told me. She was holding unto my leg when i told her its over! This cant work anymore. I love Allison,she is the one that makes me smile while amidst depression! She knows i am right even when I'm wrong. How could she kiss him? Did she think of the times we shared together...both of us,just us,doing us and making us! I kiss her each time and i taste love.'she is me and me is she'...I remember clearly that was our vow...the one we took in the church. We promised forever and always. She betrayed me! she must quit her job,at least to show remorse. I will call her to tel her to resign first thing on Monday,but that will be when i will recharge my phone,after the traffic in the tunnel.

I haven't eaten since she told me,I love Allison. She made me believe in love. She made me understand,that love can come along,just when we least expect it to,and turn an ordinary life,into something sweet and new. I came out of my car,to look at how long the traffic in the tunnel was. I thought if adanne's program Has entered the item seven. I wondered how delicious and well fried,her meat will be. She is a perfection in the kitchen,So is Allison. I looked to buy something to eat,while i lingered in the traffic in the tunnel.

Allison once told me that love can light a candle,where the sadness used to be,and heal the broken parts of us with trust and honesty.That should be why she told me about Him! she was being honest and following The commitment of her words. I believe love can give us wings to fly,above the world we know and lead us on adventures,where we never dreamed we'd go. I remembered Allison,How she tries to make everything work each time we hit our backs. That is wat marriage was about,isn't? she told me,every single time we quarrel. she told me love can lift us to our feet,and teach us how to dance and dare us to believe again and take another chance. I should take another chance with Allison. I cant live without her.Even when i try so hard,all i think of is the puzzle on her chin,which makes it difficult for one to predict when she is sad,depressed or just being Allison,the love of chikwendu's life. I will Give this another chance,but she would not know that i miss her like a breathe. I'll let her know that we are doing it for the children.But i cant see her now,or talk to her,and tell her 'lets give it another chance' and when we hug each other,i will cry at her back,and know that thinking of her,made me survive a long traffic in the tunnel.

Allison called me,just when we moved a distance in the traffic in the tunnel,and told me she has resigned from work and is willing to be a stay at home mom,if that is what it takes to keep her all to myself. I told Allison that we will try to make it work for the kids. She said I love you and that if we cannot fly in this marriage,we would run; if we cannot run,we would walk; If we cannot walk,we would crawl;But we Must keep moving. I cried because I love Allison. I decided we would move in this marriage,but right now,I'm in the traffic in the tunnel!!

Friday, July 23, 2010

I Hallucinate.

My skin is riddled with goosebumps,
My teeth clatter,
My head swims in a dark world.
My eyes are drained from tears.
A robber with no weapon?
Do you drink blood?
Slay my heart on a butchers board,
Dried blood; Big flies buzz.
Don't kill my soul,
Take my body.
Feast on my joys,
But let me dream.
Let me dream of a land full of robbers who pay tithe,
Let me dream,
Let me see a land
If with nobody,
Let me see a land my child would live.

My soul races without my leg,
My legs are weak from the journey of life,
It bares patches from stale dust,.
I search for wisdom,
Yet i see the wise, Being foolish.
I want to be rich,
I want to buy cars but drive none,
If I demand, may it only be of myself!
Riches are given for the ransom of your life.
Take my happiness,Give me wealth!

I felt the rain drizzle,
Soon it soaks my heavy heart.
I cried it out;
The joy I felt no more,
I've killed my lover!
I run to my mother's village,
The world hates me now,
Two white buds in my nose;
That's how they see me
But she uses her wrapper to wipe my dirty feet.
If i clench my fist,
May it only be in prayers,
My gaze is on the world,
Tomorrow is pregnant!

The world is still asleep,
The sky is black,
The day is coming,
It will roar down the track,
With the rising sun,
The stillness of dawn will be exchanged for the noise of the day.
The calm solitude will be replaced by the pounding pace of the human race.
The day works by,
People die; People are born
The green earth is being polluted,
Global warming; Recycling disaster.
I see a black man turn off his light bulb?
Oh! I'm blind; I don't see!

If i dream,I live,
If i raise my voice,I praise.
If it drizzles; It has rained!
If there's today; Tomorrow is pregnant!

Monday, June 21, 2010

In The Silence Of His Heart Beat, I Laugh.

In the real dark night of my soul,
Bitter tears; Parents tomb,
Pastors with Cancer; Smiling pagans
Disturbed wives; mourning men.
Abusive husbands; disturbed wives.

He's here.
With his soul of patent leather,
Hunched and nocturnal,
Where he breathes; he inhale the joy
With the fear of the sand and
The silence of the air,
My feet trembled,
My thick palms,moist,
The beast;
The monster in my sleep.
Take him away and bring me vinegar,
I'll rather my taste be sour,
Than he touch me.
His bottom pot shaped belly,
His ugly toes,
His uneven teeth,
He smells like the curtains of a pine forest,
The  beast of the night,
He dares me to be happy.
In a real dark night,
I don't see the moon,
His glance scares the sun to shine,
His breathe kills the singing bird.
Just because my eyes doesn't tear,
Doesn't mean my heart is whole.
Dying seems less sad,
I live in a dark night.

I cleaned the gun
After a few pause,
I ran my thick palms into my hair,
I let my tears come,
They water my soul,
The kill my joys.
I tasted my tears;
Something immortal,
Something Obsessing,
I put down the picture frame,
The smile I wore;
Something white,
Something pure.
I removed his wedding ring from my finger,
Something gold;

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


To the lady with a child on her back;
The burning sun and the things on her mind,

To the lady that has her money in her breasts;
The guilt and the shame on her right palm.

To the woman in labor;
The hopes in the tears she cry.

To the nagging wife;
Her patient husband.

To the single mother;
The endless Joys of motherhood.

To the pastor's wife;
Her teachings she must obey.

To the teenage mother;
Her Heavy heart; Her light purse.

To the awaiting mother;
The decorated nursery.

To They that have and ever owned;
My Joys, I share with those that wait & pray

To the men who cried in farms,
The garden is green; Feed your family.

To they that  look at the moon at night:
And watch the sun dry their clothes by day.

To the blind & Faithful;
To those that doubt the lighting.

To all that push life hard;

The teenager girl with a tattoo,
Her boyfriend with a piercing,

To the love that cloths mother earth,
To the weeping nation with cheerful rulers,

To the homeless that stay under the rain;
To the mosquitoes that comes after the swamp.

To the golden sunset I witness;
And to the tears I am happy I shed.

To all that pleases God,

PS: Remember to log on to and vote for my best-heart 'NakedSha' 
No worries, She's fully CLOTHED with an enormous talent.;)

As usual, your Questions, Comments, Suggestions, Criticism, & Ideas are humbly welcome! :)
Thanks for your minutes;


Monday, May 31, 2010

Happy Birthday Angel!

Hello People!!
How was your day?
Mine was great! Today was my kid sister's birthday,so she had a little something in her school & we all went to see her with lots of gifts and all that! In all it was a good family day and boy! did the rain not help.Well,I don't really have much too say today because I had such a busy day.Not to bore you all with my 30hour day,I'll rather crash and get back with you all tomorrow with a little something i started working on today. Exactly 13 years ago today,I lost someone that meant heaven,earth and all-the-point-of-living-at-all to me. That? I wont go into details now,but be rest assured E-smiles has a little something for the soul.Well,also to be random,I heard Celine Dion is pregnant with twins? That's such a good news and its funny how people say she's old and all kinds of stuffs! If her Chi decided to bless her,then go find something and hit your head upon.Well, till tomorrow then! Happy Birthday Angel!

With all my heart,

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Sunday Smile.

Are you Jesus?

Hello Folks!
I hope you all enjoy E-smiles as much as it gives me more pleasure than soya milk (yeah i love that) ! 
So today in church,the pastor threw a question at the congregation. It went "Are you Jesus"?
First, I gave it a little thought and I wondered from which point of view he was talking from! Then he went about to ask another question,though rhetorical this time, "Are You Perfect'. I started wondering if he was just a new generation pastor,like a pastor who ventured into God's work because his fingers and legs were too weak to send his kids to school,There were a lot of them in Lagos today,but he,quoted scriptures without the bible and didn't clean his face too much to display any form of tension. But then again I recalled a scripture(From where,I cannot remember) That said something like us being a reflection of God in all perfection and flawlessness and I Wondered if God really knew that sin existed. There was a little bit of confusion between my sister & I as we tried to rally our ideas and really try to see things from his point of prospective.It didn't take me a woman in labor to get done before I came to a conclusion.

'Are you Jesus?
Do people mistake you for Jesus? That's our destiny,isn't it? To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live & interact with a world that is blind to His Life & Grace? Well,if we claim to know Him so well,we should live,walk and act as He would. We are the apple of his eyes folks,even though we too have been bruised by whatsoever that made us fall,He stopped what he was doing and picked up You & I on a hill called Calvary and paid in full for our damaged soul!

So with all said,I cannot believe i ever thought that i couldn't  be like Jesus. Its a sin to think likewise.
I'm not a specular dust. I'm not nothing. I'm the perfection of Jesus Christ on earth!
So folks,I ask you (not rhetorically tho) 'Excuse me,Are you Jesus?'

I Hope you all think of this not as a rhetorical question.
Your Questions, Opinions,Criticism & Ideas are humbly welcome. 
Thanks for your minutes,


Saturday, May 29, 2010

The Strength In Her Weakness.

It was raining heavily, The thunder came harshly and the clouds went hiding. The trees bent and the wind kicked things around.It was dark,too dark to be a Saturday afternoon. I wasn't expecting anyone until the bell rang.

It wasn't the first day of the month,so fantasia wasn't surprised when i served her a bottle of  cheap grape wine.I earned a little over minimum wage and i stay in a flat,my boyfriend rented for me,she shouldn't expert t to see a french wine on the table.She was the mice amongst the us,someone my grandmother would refer to as akagum.She considers perfume a luxury and rather go with her 'parfumed' body lotion.I also had peanuts that i bought at the garage,on my way back from work.

I drank the last of the wine before i could finally  let in what she had just said. She was getting married to a man that she doesn't love.A man she literally met before the rain began? A man I'm just getting to know of? She wasn't ugly looking, she had a figure like that of a mermaid.She had a good bosom and her breasts were small & humble, i wondered why she had to rush,she couldn't be pregnant? She said he owns a hospital and he kept dirty nails.She said he hits the glass heavily on the table after drinking from it,she said he hardly gets a shower,and doesn't shave his public hair.She said he speaks igbo even to those that do not understand.Who does that?

She had many terrible things to say about him,his belly was as round as the bottom of her cooking pot and he insisted that she referred to him as daddy. I couldn't understand while a girl of such charisma would stoop so low with a low brained igbo trader who wore shoes that faced the clouds and wear transparent black singlets with holes  to occasions. As she said the many reasons while this is her only opportunity, and how her nne is not getting any younger and craves to hold her grand child.I couldn't help but reminisce....
My grandmother once told me about the story of  Nchekagba,the most beautiful maiden in her kindred who married the unatractive palace guard,just to get to up-front & personal with the prince.Fantasia wasn't in that position. She was just an unmarried lady at 36.

So as we choose bright colors & menus,styles for the little bride & page boys,davida or ankara,as we listed the names of guest & chairman,as i agreed to be her chief bridesmaid,i began to wonder how a marriage can work. As she wrote the list of things to buy for her house & for the wedding....I thought : Does it have to kickoff with love? Don't people who claim to have fallen insanely in love with each other get divorced? Does love kick off from learning each other?What is the foundation of a good marriage? .......I just had to remind her to get disinfectants for her bathrooms if she wanted to have me over again. Then again as she wrote their vows for the printer to print on the IV,i looked at her,i saw a vulnerable woman,i saw a vixen,i saw a stupid woman.

EEEE E-smiles



In a silent storm,

We Live,
We Give,

We learn,
We grow.

We push,
We save.

In a silent storm,
What good are the wonders of nature?
-The harsh burn of the sun.
-The rage in which the ocean flows,
-The angry water of the cruel sea.
-The silver drops of rain,
-The thunder before the lighting
-The swift melody of the nightingale.

We die,
We cry.

We mourn,
We frown.

We wait,
We wonder.

In a silent storm,

-Time's chasing,
-Leg's running,
-Mind's racing,
-Heart's beating,
-Father's cursing,
-Children crying,
-Mother's mourning.

In a silent storm,
We all,
Live as aliens,
To our souls!


Friday, May 28, 2010

Long Walks & Short Drives.

Just like Bent rusted rods,&
Caved wooden tables,
A man who beats his wife,
A killer that doesn't want to die?
My eyes widened in fear,
My teeth clattered in anxiety,
My breathe hitched,
His footsteps drifts farther,
Good for nothing,
Where is he going?
Pass the mud,
Head to the city,
Run from guit,
Smile at homeless orphans,
Underneath that desperate smile,
It lay there;The evil that the evil hates,
My body is a fragile glass,
Cracks of your words; Your hands haven't shattered yet,
I have tears that are scared of my face,
A face you once kissed.
When they clouds are gray,
And when the leaves on the trees are still,
I pray you find your way home,
Back to the woman saying;
Another day,
Another one,
Till He dies.