African Literature and Lifestyle in One Pot
I am the girl next door A flower in its prime, full of alluring scent as it gleams Her breast pointing as she dazzles with her impeccable brown skin Her lips calling for an embrace as she talks and flips it I am the girl…
15th April 2019. It was midday when Kenny woke with a dreadful hangover. The previous day had been awfully long and wasted with empty bottles of whisky littered around. Although light bulbs glowed, a dark side of emptiness engulfed the entire room. He was lying…
Today is loosing into seizures of a sudden rush down the declivity of sanity, breakless, yet grasping the liquid darkness in a predictable halt in the pit of craziness, the nemesis of a sudden dash and far too long immutable acceptance of an endorsed…
Tomorrow You give fortitude to the weary thus refreshes hope for a better beginning. You smile at the prepared and scoff the unprepared. With your sturdy feet, you kick away our doubt. You mollify our conflicting quest while you feed our desire. Tomorrow You are…
“David!!” “Jesus!” I shouted, and rolled till I fell out of the bed, gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. But no way, the pain was still there, so I stood rubbing my left butt, then scratching it. “David!!” “I’m coming!” There are two things…
Lilea didn’t know what the universe said to lovers. A tiny shrug, a blank expression, she spits them out from her dark corners and struts away. And to cupid? Her middle finger shot up in the air, an imp smile spreading across her face. Lilea…
I know of an old man who lived the life of a Nigerian comedy script; he smelled like wet tobacco drying under a hot sun. His teeth, like the thatched roofing of his wife’s kitchen, were shades of black and brown. He lived in an obscure village in the rural areas of south-east Nigeria which he claimed was a G.R.A because of its calmness and serenity. The old man hardly complained of a difficult village life. He rarely complained at all. He believed that life was to be enjoyed despite all odds. So, every day, he looked forward to tapping his palm trees, playing coupon and making love to his wife.
Weight my heart With scale and rock, and black metals Of the blacksmith. (I) When you weight accurately, you would see; Halfway cigarette with no lips to wrap Remnants of cold tea and coke Little salt to dry wet skin, Watermelons, garlic and onions For…
Black – The sight-singing in the sweet symphony of seafarers’ song, laden with tears by clanging swords thrust into the dreams of many years. Black- The ceaseless encomium of beauty, amidst gruesome hate cum apartheid, choked in the hearts of reds against our brothers in…
I want to tell you of the girl that lives inside me… You told me to confide in you, as justification for the term we call ourselves; Besties! So here it goes… I am best when I am at my worst. My mind is a…
