Think about it, everyone is looking for an opportunity, that stone that'd break down dozens of Goliath houses and shatter our passions into tiny fragments of glass all across the world, starting from our countries.

We've all done the dumbest of things in search for fame and fortune, like inbox Dbanj's private facebook account with a thousand of our songs hoping he'd see it and say "Hey, Tolu, you know what? You're such an amazing artiste and I really think I could make money with you,".

Don't look at me *covers face*, you maybe have done worst too. Perhaps you sent Chimamanda Ngozi a dozen of your short stories or novel, hoping she'd help you with a publisher or even privately recommend you.

Don't get me wrong, miracles happen, and luck could find you(But that's a slim chance, isn't it?). So, why don't you be the miracle that others are looking for, be the gold dust that'd help people rise just like Tinkerbell did for her friends in Peter Pan.

I promise I'm not rambling. Trust me, you don't need to have rich friends to make a difference or to even start something meaningful. What you really need are TALENTED FRIENDS. They're the ones who'd help make your dreams come true.

I'd gladly love to tell you how but I had an encounter, numerous encounters, not really encounters, just an open door to work and socialize with people. And in doing this, I realized the more you spread your tentacles as an individual, reach out and be friendly to as many people as possible. One day, they'd come around to support your dreams FOR FREE, yes I said for free cos you'd do the same for them. Your money would come from people outside this circle of yours, people who can't believe how talented people like yourselves came together and made something this beautiful.

So pick your heart with a tooth pick, select all the dreams you had been dreaming before you gave up, and start chewing them like fried fish. Digest the possibility of anything being possible only if YOU work to make it happen. You mustooooo sufferrrrrr, good things don't come cheap, except for an anonymous crush, and you don't want that. It think Versace was killed by an anonymous stalker, or isn't it Versace? I don't know jore, one of those designers sha!

Bye,
Mike Ogah

Film makers are the rock stars of the 21st century. They create their own make- beliefs, draw us out of this third world we find ourselves and enable us live in a world were anything is possible.

Were spiders are human(spiderman), and bats wear capes(batman). What would our lives be without movies. I miss Twilight, I miss Hunger games, movies that telelported my spirit to another space in time. When Heroes(the series) reached its 4th season, I was sad that they(the writers) had run out of ideas, that series was amazing. We need writers like that in this country, such beautiful minds.

We need those kind of brilliantly enthusiastic and not boring fellows to keep our spirits alive. If its Drama it better be "pulling," something that attracts the soul in a deep sense. And please, soundtracks matter. I'm currently glued to twilights "my love" by Sia. That song is beauriful and connects to ma spiro spirit. Makes me wanna write poetry.


Mike Ogah

Bristled in by haunting sounds, I sleep walked into your coven with eyes clear as crystals under blue water, I could swear this was real, perhaps even more realistic than a dream.

You took my hand and together we rose from the sea, we walked but ever so slowly out of the water at night. The moon was down like a castle gate. We walked into its black doors like spirits, we walked through it. I had been hypnotized by you, not sure if I wrote this from a dream or from sharing the same spirit as you.

"Never seen darkness look this morbid but ever so beautiful" I thought.

Couldn't believe you would go through all this trouble just to make me happy. How could darkness feel something for me, strangely enough, more or less love.

We danced for centuries, laughed like babies round a pyramid circle and my descendants came and went, lived and died like autumn leaves. But oblivious was I to time, for in that place, time was light and dawn never existed.

When I chose to look back, I banged my head so hard on the floor that i bled without pain to remember who I was, But I couldn't remember. Sooner had I thought that something wasn't right. How could we live forever happy, feeling nothing but excitement all the time. Soon I would upset the balance of things. Man wasn't made to live this way. Even happiness was stressful sometimes.

Carved in goblets of fire were the castle's ceiling. Each time I stared up to look, strongly had I felt that something paused from watching me. On doing this, I felt fear for the very first time. And this, my friends, began the darkness of things.

Later than not, I would discover that my body was but a mystery never found, and when my kids buried me, they buried my books, my clothes and my glasses in remembrance of me.

"He wouldn't let me go, this love was forced on me"

My name is Kiara, and I think I'm alive, my body just hasn't been found. And if only I were certain that truly this body existed, maybe I could cross over to the other side.

Written by,
Mike Ogah.

Today you've been looking round your body for scars, but there's non. You tell yourself that maybe the problem is you like yourself too much, that maybe if you liked yourself a lot less, you wouldn't be frustrated.

So you drive right down to the nearest kiosk, buy yourself a razor blade and head on home with it. Your drive home has been filled with numerous thoughts. You remember a time when a friend of yours told you he couldn't understand why people cut themselves. He told you such people were jobless and stupid. You're battling with thoughts in your head.

You now know how this goes, you've watched it countless times on tv and you're ready to try it out, cut yourself to feel free for just a few seconds before the pain, of whatever it is, you've been going through, rears its ugly head again. You can't understand why you once knew who and what and where you were going and now, life(without your consent or intention), pinned the cards on you, gave you sour lemons for lemonade.

You're frustrated but still manage to wear a smile every now and then. Maybe you're not doing enough to help people, so you start helping, start consoling and simply start being there for people who just need someone to talk to. People don't listen these days, a sentence that is true but you'd never get to understand why.

You stop at a green light, you've refused to move. You tell yourself that the only way to "make it" is to be bitter at the world. So you start hating, but the last time you hated, it didn't go so well. Then she or he comes around to tell you about God. You smile, look down at the ground, whisk your feet through and through the sand, and in your head you soliloquies - WHERE IS GOD?

You're in your bathroom now, last night you had a dream you cut yourself and bled to death on your bed. You don't wanna go to hell and that's why you won't commit suicide. So perhaps inflicting these tiny cuts and bruises on yourself are a testament to the looser you are, so you refuse to have pity on yourself. After all, You're taking your frustration out on yourself and no one else.

The world quite honestly isn't fair, but very few of your friends understand that. As they don't stand in your shoes, except for a few. You're tired of loving, Its time to start hating. But hate is consuming and time wasting. So you drive to the nearest park in the middle of the night, sit in your car, hoping someone comes to shoot you.

Mike.

he plane took off in Lagos and crash landed in the same Lagos, Ajoa Estate to be precise. Are we sure we're ready for this medium of transportation in this part of the world?

Can't we go a year without a crash? Are our pilots badly trained or is the problem from our Airplanes themselves(servicing perhaps?) What do I know.

Abuja used to bore me to death, so much so that in my idle moments, I'd sit down watching porn like I were watching Days Of Our Lives with a bag of pop corn and a jug of jolly juice (Yup! It used to be that boring).

So we play video games, some of us set out with friends to watch the premier league, and when all is said and done, we're back at square one, hands beneath our chin with our lips splashed like lettuce.

What is wrong with Abuja? Those of you once based abroad but now back full time, are asking. The weather is hot, so why don't we have a standard water park. Oh, I forget, its just like the amusement park in Lagos(still the way it was since 1999).

We never upgrade stuff in this country. So what's the use having a park here, anyway. Its not like we still aren't grappling to find water in our toilets and kitchens.

Internet is slow, so no need for hi tech android phones, you know its true (#ur wasting ur time with that samsung s4). So; am I blabbing? Did I just sit down today, void of what to do and decide to pin point these issues? ehm! Kinda, but not when you put it like that.

I'm looking for a place where I can go to during the evenings, and listen to people play the xylophone, the Saxophone, where drummers play amazingly and singers do crazy stuff with their singing. Not like a pub or bar. Just a fun place with ideas that draw people to the place. A place with crazy lighting where they sell ice-cream or food, anyone.

I think that kinda place will yield alotta money. Or just a cafe near by, with a more adventurous and fresh way of doing things. Where poets come and recite both dark and love poems and leave people in awe. Where clubs have balloon bubble baths and the music is crazy.

Abuja aren't you tired of the norm?

Oya let's go to silver bird again (Jeez! Aren't you tired already of repeating the same old stuff?) No variety.

Bye.
Moi.

What I had heard was "Weed makes your balls bigger". And for some reason, an educated person as myself, chose to believe them ( and by them here, I'm referring to the Mallams on the street who sold me the weed).

Well, technically I hadn't bought the weed just yet, as I was still in the negotiating process "In my head" - to buy or not to buy, do I want big balls or do I remain with my small balls ( well, not necessarily small balls, I mean small as compared to what I'd have after taking the weed (#sighs Anyway, who am I trying to convince).

Each time I took this weed I was on cloud nine. I literally walked on water like Jesus(like that wasn't dope enough), taking weed made me ten times lighter, like my head was a bubble and I was simply the liquid floating inside it. I was the invincible man, I could stand in the center of the road and no car would touch me (Except a trailer truck of course). You should try it.

In the upper paragraph, I lied about the road experience. No I didn't stand in the center of the road, and please do not try this, not now, not ever! So, anyway, to cut the long story short, my balls never grew bigger, and for months I'd stand at the filling station right where this Mallams (numerous of them) had sold me the weed. But to no avail, non of them ever came around again.

One morning I woke up and my cock was gone, like literally gone! And by cock here I'm referring to my fowl, my chicken. I had a poultry at the time. A wise man once told me that if ever I lost my chickens for whatseover reason asides eating them, my penis would start to grow smaller. And so did it.

Harmattan was finally here and call me obsessive but this was the month I stared the hardest at that thing below. I noticed it shrunk. It never occured to me though that it was just the weather. And that with a decrease in temperature, it was only normal that IT'd reduce in size.

"Ahhhh, no, this is too small. What do you want me to do with this nah" My then razz girlfriend said.

"Honey, its not how big, its how well it can maneuver that matters," I said.

Looking back, I think we broke up for the right reasons.

Written by,
Michael Ogah.

I hate the good in me
It makes me childish you see
They say i wasn't made for tv
They won't let me be me

I sing good, I'm not crude
But they say crude is the new mood
That its commercial, that It would sell
Free me please, I bring a new vibe, a new sound, a school bell

You hate my sheepish smile, you say its geeky
I say stick a stick in your anus, and buy a twinky
Now I sound cocky, and you don't like that
But when I'm bubbly, you say I'm flat

To hell with you, if you don't like me you go
Loving me is not by force, I can't force you and you know
So if you're here to stay, then stay
I'm being humble about it now, cos if you didnt like me then you'd never like me anyway.

Written by,
Michael Ogah
@Ankaraboi

When God decides to bless you, he'd separate you to cascade you immensely with all the pure and perfect gifts of life. If ever people envy, spite or jealous you in the process, hold their arms, take them to your closet, show them a shoe from way back then and simply say - YOU DON'T KNOW MY STORY, SO DON'T BE MAD AT MY GLORY.

My Grandmother speaks just Idoma, with a tinge of Hausa and then pidgin. But I am almost certain she doesn't understand english.

So here I am, telling my Aunt that I have a girlfriend and that my girlfriend might be pregnant (I was kidding). My Grandma who was sitting nearby, jumps on the issue, snaps her fingers, packs her wrapper and folds in between her thighs, (looking worried) and yells-

" Ehen!!! Eleleleleleleleoooooooo"

"Inalegwu" My Aunt says to me. "Its like Mama heard what we were discussing o"

"Nge doh papa kuwo," meaning "I would tell your Father."

Instantly, I get on my knees and start to beg my Grandmother, pleading with her that it was a joke.

My Father is back, his car is just packed outside and the soldiers bring in his briefcase, my Grandma stares out the window, stands to her feet with a stern face as father walks in.

My heart stops, I'm about to collapse when she goes "Jaji"meaning "Oga," And then she goes "Welucomu" she says smiling at her son, my father.

When Father leaves the sitting room, a protruding laughter erupts from her belly. I had just being punked. Never knew this old woman understood english to this extent. She would later pay me 5k for finding her misplaced "Kerewa" Cd by Zule Zoo which I stole and hid away (pay back time). Heheheheheh.

Yours Truly,
Mike.

"She actually vomited a cat, I swear! Right before my eyes," Aunty Ada said, panting.

"Are you sure it was a cat you saw?" I emphasized with a concrete sense of snotty doubt.

"Inalegwu, would I lie to you again?" She retorted. "Stop it o!" she said, keenly vexed at my particular reluctance to believe her.

My heart was racing, I wanted to see this Man of God. So I sat in the congregation, this being my first time in his church.

"There is a woman here," he said. "Tonight, your boyfriend would come to seduce you, he would come with an okada. If the two of you do it, you would get pregnant and your life would never remain the same," he revealed.

"Run, sleep elsewhere," he said "If he comes close, you move. If he shifts again, move again".

"Hmnn! Hmnnnnnnnn!" The women in the congregation chorused, folding their arms whilst seated.

At this point I began shaking in my boots, at 17 perhaps he'd reveal something nasty or tragic to take place in my own future. I shouldn't have come here, I pondered. But I sat still, pretending to be at ease, when my heart at that point was at jails break.

He walked very close to the roll I was sitting, closed his eyes, stretched his hands, and hovered through with his arms like he were sensing some spiritual presence were we sat.

"Your name is Ojonma Odeba, you're a christian married to a muslim, you love your husband so much but your husbands people have been mal-treating you. They want him to have a second wife because you don't have a child".

A wheeping lady stands up crying and full of tears and bitterness, like it felt soothing for someone other than herself to finally see all she had being going through.

But this is where the church takes a dramatic turn; As her weeping turns to wailing and then "sirenous".

At this point, the church is dumb founded. The women in the church go "Ehm, e don do nah, Pastor wan solve your problem you still dey cry. Mtcheeeew".

Hisses at every corner slicker simultaneously amongst the women, whilst I laugh, almost cracking my ribs in amazement. "This is one of my most interesting sundays," I tell myself. "I'd love to come here again," I whisper to my Aunt.

"There is a boy here, his name is Michael Ogah, you have been....." I stand up to go ease myself (i.e till the service ends).

On a second thought, I don't feel like coming back here again. My spirit doesn't agree with this place anymore. N.B - it isn't fun when it's you on the hot seat. Lol.

Written By,
Michael Ogah
@Ankaraboi.

I'm sitting in the dark, thinking of that defining moment. It's never too late, I tell myself. I'm going to keep trying. Doing more songs and then hopefully an album.

I'm grateful for how far I've come (I really am), and for me its never been about winning, its been more about that open door. That staircase to uplift me to where I've always wanted to go.

So, Is this it? Yes, I didn't get to win but still, is this it? That open door? I HOPE IT IS.

When I was I8 going on 19 I did the Peak Talent Show , when I was 22 I did the Donjazzy African Cup of Nations song contest, and now I'm 23 and I just concluded my journey on The X Factor.

Perhaps its never been about winning, perhaps its always been about planting a seed as we go.

Today I'm planting my seed, I realize, its all about the seeds we sow in people's lives. Like a nice compliment(and meaning it), like a word of encouragement, like a nudge in the right direction and finally like a hug to soften our aches.

The journey has been amazing, and it'd go on being amazing for you all too.

The world is ours to conquer, everyday is an opportunity to take a step towards our dreams. Yes, sometimes we'd stumble along the way, but we have to pick ourselves up quickly and keep on being dream chasers.

So Finally, Don't dull o, grab every opportunity as it comes and be kind to everyone. You never know who's out there to help you. So start, by believing, in.... YOU.

Love,
Michael.
@Ankaraboi

Where are the guys men

My three year old sister is begging me for the meat in my rice and stew, and she goes -

"Brother Michael, are you my friend?"

And replying I go "yes nau, for life sef"

Then she goes, pointing "That one, ehn! Gimme. You're my friend you hear?"

"But Ene you've eaten nau" I reply boning.

And she goes "Do you love Jesus? Ehn ansa me brother Michael! Do you love Jesus?" She taps me consecutively then puts her hand out like this time she wasn't begging but giving an order.

Without grumbling or even the slightest snare, I quickly dip the fork on the meat and place in her mouth as she churns the big mold and her tiny bubbly chins churn down the meat like she were regurgitating it. Then she goes - "why are you looking at me like that? I'm not your friend again".

See me see wahala, after eating my meat, we're no more friends. Nawa o! Someone help me tell her, she can't eat her cake and have it. Lol.

I walked through the wilderness of life, watching as seasons come and go. My heart I held firmly in my hand for fear of it being snatched away. I beheld the sun in its glory and the moon dancing in the cloudless skies. Well, it was cloudy once, and we all thought it was gonna rain meat spheres.

How wrong we were. The only meatballs it rained were pieces of Kilishi that did not even go round. Why am I even letting my imagination run wild. I'm supposed to be writing something here.

I all started when the earth was young and men still carried their destiny around like an expensive pot. Well, men were not in charge, it was the women that held powers in their hands. They did to men what they deemed fit and they hardly fought war. The land was peaceful and everyone held to his belonging like she was guiding it for her neighbor.

If you find a slave (men) that proved to be good in bed, you announce it and everyone comes to celebrate with you. That way you are sure of having strong female warriors that could protect the land. Well, not protect in its denotative meaning since there was no battle to be fought and everyone shared properties.

Love was something that felt odd. You can't fall in love with your fellow woman and men were slaves. Creatures that were only good in cooking, farming, breaking of firewood and looking after the female children in the land. The male that were begat by the women were casted into an orphanage runned by a very powerful heartless old woman. Most of the slaves had undergone the process of moulding from her.

One night, just that night when the earth was supposed to be asleep cradled in the arms of the milky galaxy an evil was birthed into the world... Well to the women it was evil but to the men he was the long awaited savior, the one to free them from the grasp of the ruthless women.

Adam was born and casted into the orphanage like every male slave born. From there his destiny began, a destiny that went a long way to name him the first man not because he had a dangling object between his legs but because he liberated men from the clutch of women.


In the beginning...


By Me... Foxybone

Life and Times of an Eja Nla

Once upon a time, somewhere in the great Niger river, there lived an Eja Nla(a big fish) who was by far the most noble of all the fishes in the river. His side fins glimmered in the morning sun and his tail fins were embroidered with yarns of pure gold. The lady fishes loved him and the guy fishes aspired to be like him. For he was beautiful to behold and for him life was good.

Then one day he heard pride's malevolent voice whisper in his ears; "Why be respected when you can be feared" He thought to himself; "That's true o, no one really takes me seriously around here!"

So the following day, at the fishes' market square, in front of everyone, he made a challenge to the most feared big fish: The shark. Jack the Shark laughed him to scorn when he was told, but was later stunned when he saw the seriousness in Eja Nla's eyes. Shark accepted the challenge. And at dusk that same day, in public view, shark suffered an embarrassing defeat at the hands of an impressive Eja Nla. Everyone was blown away as they hailed their new champion.

There was jubilation in the air when Dolphin eh ehm-ed and everyone kept quiet to hear what the wise one had to say. He dusted his fins as he stepped forward to speak. "You know i have traveled far and wide" Dolphin said pompously. And he went on to tell Eja Nla that there was yet a greater fish, the great whale, whose domain was the ocean. But to battle him Eja Nla had to do what no fish had ever done-walk on land. Everyone gasped as they heard that.

But Eja Nla laughed arrogantly, thumped his chest and screamed angrily; "I am Eja Nla, the great fish that won the sun in a stirring contest. Yes! I am Eja Nla, the warrior that terrifies even death itself!"

To the amazement of all watching, Eja Nla embarked on his journey of a thousand miles-onward to the pacific ocean to battle the great whale. Smoke came out of his nostrils as he walked out of the Niger river. Fishermen fainted at the sight of Eja Nla. Even the women ran into their huts as he strode brazenly.

It has been a fortnight since Eja Nla went to battle the great whale, but no one has heard from him since then.

“The proud person always wants to do the right thing, the great thing. But because he wants to do it in his own strength, he is fighting not with man, but with God.”
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. For pride goes before a fall and arrogance before devastation.

Stay Inspired!


Emmanuel Deyvid...(Surname too long)

On a tiny canoe, paddling both ends of the rack as she stared hard into my eyes. The lake was crystal green. Covered with trees that hung over like shadows above our heads. Our silence was a song.

One step closer to the rocky waterfalls, in her eyes I saw a "de ja vous", a captivating shimmer of ethereal beauty pinched her dotted eyes with hope as she looked up smiling, teeth all white and pearly. Reminiscent in my nature, I recalled the day we both said "I love you". Her eyes felt just like that, looked exactly like that.

Beneath the rocks, pitter pattered by the waterfall. We both giggled and laughed hard. Our faces were as soft shits of musical paper soaked in tear drops. We were happy, and for no reason time felt elusive, almost like this precious moment in history was to be caligraphed on the tumbling turmoil of the wet grey rocks surrounding us.

Then we dove into the water. Her skin was the shade of shiny blue. Her pretty hair the color of tangerine. Her lips warbled bubbles to the surface as i bat lashed her fairness with a graceful squint. If only this moment could last a thousand years.

In the cool of the night, we headed back home. I held her shoes and she held my slippers. Our legs graveled through the leafy forest home as my hands layed above her shoulders and she softly pealed at my fingers with both her hands.

Before sleeping that night, I sat beside the moon. I wished life could be more a fairy tale than this. I wished my ribs were never broken. She left in me - A man incomplete.

To my surprise, I then saw a lonely boy, he sat with a fishing hook on-top the banana moon. He said to me -

"You don't want to be like me - Lonely and alone as the universe above you"

"Stay! She loves you"

Then I said " Lonely Moon, I'm afraid that the colors of her promises would someday fade away"

And then he said to me "How can you love when you're afraid".

After that night, I never saw the darkness. Just the lonely boy with a fishing hook on-top the banana moon, fishing for stars.




Written by
Michael Ogah
Prose writer

Bristled in by haunting sounds, I sleep walked into your coven with eyes clear as crystals under blue water, I could swear this was real, perhaps even more realistic than a dream.

You took my hand and together we rose from the sea, we walked but ever so slowly out of the water at night. The moon was down like a castle gate. We walked into its black door like spirits, we walked through it. I had been hypnotized by you, not sure if I wrote this from a dream or from sharing the same spirit as you.

"Never seen darkness look this morbid but ever so beautiful" I thought.

Couldn't believe you would go through all this trouble just to make me happy. How could darkness feel something for me, strangely enough, more or less love.

We danced for centuries, laughed like babies round a pyramid circle and my descendants came and went, lived and died like autumn leaves. But oblivious was I to time, for in that place, time was light and dawn never existed.

When I chose to look back, I banged my head so hard on the floor that i bled without pain to remember who I was, But I couldn't remember. Sooner had I thought that something wasn't right. How could we live forever happy, feeling nothing but excitement all the time. Soon I would upset the balance of things. Man wasn't made to live this way. Even happiness is stressful sometimes.

Carved in goblets of fire were the castle's ceiling. Each time I stared up to look, strongly had I felt that something paused from watching me. On doing this, I felt fear for the very first time. And this, my friends, began the darkness of things.

Later than not, I would discover that my body was but a mystery never found, and when my kids buried me, they buried my books, my clothes and my glasses in remembrance of me.

"He wouldn't let me go, this love was forced on me"

My name is Kiara, and I think I'm alive, my body just hasn't been found. And if only I were certain that truly this body existed, maybe I could cross over to the other side.



Written by,Mike Ogah.

We all go through moments of self doubt and insecurity, fears, that we might just not be what the world is looking for. We tend to often retreat back into our shells like snails at the slightest criticism. But everybody has an audience, the world is big enough for the stars. Thus, my question i this - Is there really, ever a set time to blossom? If a seed is planted in the ground without ever beign nurtured with water and sunlight, wont it decay?

So. i guess what i'm trying to say is, we should never stop trying. We should do the things that make us happy from the on-set and the gifts of life would be sure to follow. We cant keep waiting for the set time. I'm not saying we should hurry life and loose our sleep over our dreams, cos if its what u really love to do, u'd operate with wisdom and calculation.

What would u do if money were no object, How would u want to live ur life? think about it!

Seven months into my wife's pregnancy, I began feeling "the pressure". She'd spend hours upon hours in the bathroom not doing "jack". I always wondered why it took her so long to shower.

But, my innermost discretions came to a screeching halt when I forcefully opened the door one day, only to find her inhaling the shitty stench of the toilets urine. Her Protruding belly holding firmly forward like a basketball while she sat on the toilet seat. I feared my baby would be born with body odor

To add insult to injury, the doctor asked me to make love to her every night, for the next two months prior to her conception. He said it would aide for an easy and smooth delivery of the baby through the vagina. More like adding grease to a rusty padlock.

Every night was war, she'd lye down like a pillow case, letting me do the job all by myself( not to say I'm not capable, but two against one is a majority, as u should understand). I just couldn't simmer down the thought of a baby inside her while we made love. She'd close her eyes and swing her legs, while I sweat and frowned. She couldn't see my face because every time, I made sure the lights were off.

I know it sounds like I'm such a crude and uncaring hubby, but u guys don't understand the shit I had to go through every morning( by morning I'm talking about 2am). She'd wake me up and ask for ice cream, ask for chewing gum. Hell, one time she even asked for kuli kuli. Where was I to get kuli kuli by that time of the night!

Finally, it all became worth the wait. My baby bounced out like a tennis ball, free of stress ( well, just a little stress, and screaming too), And I knew right there and then as I held him in my arms, that I was going to love and cherish my wife forever, for She had brought sunshine into my life.

Mike O.

The ban of "Okada's" in Lagos, has made life somewhat unbearable for the average citizen. Transportation cost is at its highest, Keke Napeps are barely even enough to mitigate the harshness and it just seems like everybody is out to exploit everybody.

I don't really get why restaurants are pricey, charging nearly 1500 for a meal (that includes fried chicken with salad and a coke). I particularly was surprised when TFC(Tasty Fried Chicken) offered me the same meal for 690 or there about.

Clothes are cheaper in Lag, its easier to start a pure water business there ( due to traffic), other than that, I don't see why people think Abuja is more expensive.

I came to see the Fashola that people have been praising and I realized his second term in office has been more of autocratic than democratic. No street lights, it seems when ur talking about Lagos you're only referring to V.I, Lekki, Ikoyi, Ikeja and dts it! Ok, maybe a few other places. Still, it appears the gap is widening between the poor and the rich(no middle class).

And why don't we have shelter homes in this country ( I'm not talking about motherless babies home), I'm talking about places where people go to pass the night if they've got no where to go at dusk, you know, like the one in In Pursuit of Happiness, Good Deeds etc.

Why don't we love ourselves in this country! Why should a states man drive pass a woman who's got elephantities(dts how I hear it called) begging on the street with crutches and not feel the need to do something about it. The rich would rather scuffle 500naira notes to the poor than teach them how to fish.

Its such a pathetic people we all have become, we need to start refining our minds and stop trying to run away to where we would were big jackets and say "Omoh! see snow". I'm not saying its bad to travel, but atleast bare in mind when ur well settled that people need help here too and do something about it.

All these our graduates, musicians, are busy buying big houses and talking flashy instead of remembering how they came from nothing to something and giving back to society. We're not compassionate people it appears.

HOW CAN I CHANGE THE WORLD? When we start thinking like dt, I believe we'd work to get the money to aide us change the world and not thinking " I WANT TO MAKE MONEY! One is selfless and the other is selfish.

Mike Ogah
Don't hate me, was just pissed for a while.

When I first thought to write something today, I hurried back and forth, erasing every line and filling the spaces in- between with new letters. I thought to write about you, to write something modest, something everyone could relate with, something pure and selfless.

So, I began to think. I thought about my friend Grateful Itiowe, about her strength and courage and how I wanted God to bless me with a heart as pure and selfless as hers. I thought about how she had lost her sister and mum this year to a tragic accident and still filled the bowels of her sanctuary with charity( Some people would be bitter at the world, but not she).

Then I thought about Onyeka Nwelue, how someone could have so much of a God in them and yet be an atheist. His giving spirit, never wanting to hurt anyone and helping when he can, these are the fruits of the spirit my Bible tells me about.

As I thought further, I thought about people who had changed my life from a distance, with the things they said and the words they spread. I thought about
Felix Abrahams Obi and his Mallam Pelliks diaries, about his journey through life and the lessons learnt. I wished for more open doors for him while in Nottingham.

Then, I thought about someone who's always been there for me, through the rough and good times , Loshea Kabod. I believe she was God sent.

Soon, even my ink began to blurt out in blatant fury, saying - "What about Me! What about Me!"

And then, it occurred to me, to also give thanks for hands that write, legs that walk and eyes that are able to see through the smoke of life, into the beautiful colors that paint the sky each new day with blue, red and white.

I realized that at so many points in my life, even for a second, these people unconsciously had changed my life for the better and they'd probably never know why.

At the moment, I'm teaching my newly adopted sister how to speak and write in English( she's from the village).

Teaching her has been hectic and I've had to apply a lot of tolerance as I once was a slow learner and I do not want to apply the same brutal method of learning I had to go through, growing up.

I've learnt to be as enthusiastic and happy for others as I would want for myself like Patrick Ogah, to go after the things I so desire in life like John Ogah and to embrace the world with good and thoughtful deeds like Dike Chukwumerije. I'm learning a lot in my two decades plus on earth.

But what I've had to learn the most this, is to believe more in myself and only until then, can people believe in me. I learnt that through out life, 25percent of the people you meet won't like you, another 25percent would fall in love with you and the final 25percent would finally be compelled to love you after getting up close and personal with you.

I learnt you can't please everybody, so just be happy. Thanks EVERYBODY for ur blessings and strength. One love ma people!



Mike Ogah

I think the source of a lot of young people's depression and confusion(our generations, those born in the late 80s, early 90s) is growing up with too much TV influence, and later, internet. I really think it has led to this blaze - "detached from reality attitude" about life. You watch TV and get the impression that you only matter if you do something so crazy, flashy and outrageous that everybody will stop to look at you, which is crap.

We have no real values anymore. Family and romance have gone out the window, to be replaced by "cooler" goals, like sleeping with as many as you can and trying every drug and fast motorbike out there until you break your head. You get told that's what "living" really is.

BS - I know getting things the easy way will bring me more pleasure, but sweating for every little thing you have is the only way you can get SATISFACTION and VALUE.

I Can Do All Things.
October 29, 2012 at 11:48pm

It took me a while to properly learn to tie my shoe lace. I couldn't believe that at age 8, here was I, struggling to fit the pieces of this part of me together. At the time it seemed I could do nothing right. My younger brother often helped me out with that. I couldn't understand why I wanted to be like everyone else except for me.

So, when I finally learned to tie my shoe laces, the next challenge was the clock. I hated everything and anything that had to do with numbers, as a matter of fact, I struggled so hard with learning that when I was in primary four my uncle removed the sitting room clock and placed in my hands, he asked me to stare into the clock and tell him how many minutes to two it was, I couldn't. I remember him nudging his forehead and going -

"Young man, use your head, your head, don't you have a brain!"

One day, I sat in front of the clock, I watched the long hand of the clock swerve slightly above the number eleven as the short hand stood still on two. I didn't know how to count in minutes or seconds, what did this all mean?

Sometimes, I listened so hard to everyone that I lost track and couldn't find the fun in just being a kid. Learning was so depressing and made me cave into myself for fear of shame.

One, two, three no! One - two - three - four - five - 5, one - two - three - four - five - 10 and I counted on and on till I got to 55 and added a minute more to make it 2:56. I ran to call Uncle Joe dragging him to the parlor to come see my solution but he wouldn't come, he was too busy trying to win the lottery on tv, so I lingered on in uncertainty, wondering if this 8year old would ever be able to tell the time.

I remember Uncle Joe saying, " left is TO and Right is AFTER" till today I apply that solution to the clock.

In school, I was always afraid. I always told my friends I'd marry a doctor or a person in sciences to help me manage our finances properly. When I was in SS3, my late uncle Ochai, who was our Maths teacher asked me to solve an equation. I sat on my seat, shaking and whispering at him to please not call me, but he did. He knew I feared maths, I didn't hate it, I just was afraid of it, I had never been afraid of anything more in my life like I did maths. As I stroke the board with the chalk, dabbling my fingers like a 3rd grader counting crayons I felt even more embarrassed, I tried so hard to make sure no one noticed how hard it was for me.

When I was done, I stared at my teacher and swiped the board as my mates laughed.

"Why did you clean it!" He screamed.

"Write it again" he ordered.

I would never forget Mr Ochai, my uncle and teacher. He taught me bravery, he taught me that sometimes its better to risk and learn from your mistakes than never to have tried at all.

He dabbled his chalk a few minutes against the board and when he was done, we both arrived at the same answer.

"Clap for him" he said.

"Why were you afraid, didn't you finally get it?" He laughed.

" Sir, I just wasn't sure"

"Anytime you don't understand anything, just come, I'd teach you".

" Ok sir, thank you".

I learnt a lot growing up, I learnt that we are not our disability. I grew up thinking everyone was perfect except me. Caught up in the smoke of my trials I was unable to connect with people like me.

Now that I'm older, I realise we all have struggles, things we're not proud of or are ashamed to speak about ourselves, our weaknesses. Did you know that Steven Spielberg one of the greatest movie gurus of all time is dyslexic? So whenever you think about beating yourself up over your shortcomings, remember that Leonardo da Vinci, Tommy hilfiger, George Washington, Richard Branson, Henry Ford etc all had learning disabilities. So go out there and make the world your oyster, YOU could be anything you wanna be, YOU are smart, don't let anyone put you down.


Written by
Michael Ogah

I want to taste your voice note like a dabino after ramadan
Spread the pages of your sms like a pancake on a plate and debate its fate

Believe me, I could taste your breath like a smile on the aisle of a wedding planner
And whenever I hear my phone ring, I hear chipmunks sing

I know it sounds unbelievable
But its the only time I could tell for a fact
That even birds... Actually get jealous whenever you talk

You make the butterflies insecure
And even parrots speak in Swahili
Believe me, I've heard crickets whisper
Your number 0803

And maybe its cause like lightening you travel faster than light
Your hands long like network cables playing jangilova on a kite

I want to re-write you into the pages of clarity
Underline your verse in theology
That history would be incomplete without you

You make blue turn green
And maybe that's why the sky is white today like a canvass

So paint it,
Paint it in the emerald oliveness of your loveliness

I'm not a poet but I could write you a thousand sonnets
A thousand hymns of the amazing grace of your pretty face

About how wonderful you've been to me
About how triangles turn to circles and split in half because you make even triangles laugh

Your smile is a banana moon dangling in the sky
Whenever you touch me!
My heart races so fast like a shooting star it could catch a speeding ticket

Believe it, I've tried
I need you to survive
I need you like a 5year old needs a Sneekers Bar
Like a rabbit needs its carrot
And like Dangote needs Indomie

If I were a number
I'd be 2,4,6 and 8
So that even though I were divided by two
I'd still have you,no debate
I'd be an even number
Struck out at an instant but glued to the number of two with you

You make mathematics so stressed out that it draws in histograms
Your beauty is a Fine - Art
A flashlight in the dark like a stop sign
Like green on a traffic machine

Before I blow my brains out
Somebody call the paramedics
..............
I think I'm in love with the atm.

When you were born
Your mother said your eyes squeaked like brand new sneakers
She said your hair was a raven black Shining like crystal stones in the sky
Everyone came to wish her well

As they held your puppy fingers
Your smile melted away their worries
When you cried the nurses curdled you in cuteness
Your voice echoed with tiny undulations
With Sweet slender bonds washing away years of erosion and strife

As the shades of epoch hurriedly passed
You took your first steps on the staircase of mortality
Your chubby thighs wore lumpy clouds
And your first steps were as thunder and lightening

Winged creatures in human form
Sang songs of elation with the flutes and violins
A blessing was given to earth as gift
As rain after years of drought
As light after years of obscure darkness
That blessing was you

But as time changed
And the ground grew older with cracks
Your eyes turned bloodshot red
Your hands rocky and thick as cow skin
Your lips squared in a small triangle
Never oval
Your chest pumped but not with a heart
Just a balloon with straws and a bitter juice passing through

Your humanity lost its dreamer, its soul
You became ordinary
Less than ordinary
Just a window with a burglary
Your mothers voice screamed from the pit of her death
Her voice ragged and hurt
Hurt from the blood in your hands

"My child, the first fruit of my youth
O how time has changed you"
She said

Her broken cry fizzled in the distant tunnel under the ground
In the star like rays through the leaves in her womb
You were not the son she conceived anymore
That child was a gentle leaf in the stream
Growing green and luscious
Never thirsty for black wistful currant

You!
You were not the child she conceived
Atleast, not anymore

By Michael Ogah
An unsung retribution to the killers of those students in portharcourt

I always wondered why people eat rice and stew garnished with chicken on sundays (plus mineral). I used to ponder on what historical event had to take place before meat on a nicely dished meal could ever have been regarded as a trophy or some heroic monument. Why has it always been the last thing to chew on the plate?

Did we ever suffer a meat civil war, a meat drought, a meat flood or were we colonized with meat? The answer, I'd never know. For me, meat has been both a blessing and a curse. I say curse because I've lost tooth battles to chicken and goat meat. Countless numbers of teeth flushed out my cavity by the dentist.

I never saw Dr Musa, my Fathers Dentist, as a friend, his mini goggles usually slating down his pointed nose just below his tiny eyes always gave me cause to worry. I feared that he couldn't see well, often times his pupils looked dilated. Every dental meeting I'd ask Dr Musa-

"Sir, why do your pupils look smaller than the last time I saw them,"

And most times this was his response-

"The better to see you with, my dear".

Dr Musa gave me the creeps. The way he wore his head torch whenever he wanted to wade through my mouth for holes and fractures, made me feel like some prehistoric artifact, like I was a newly discovered fossil dug up in the far far ends of the middle East(without the uprising offcourse).

After the military handed over to the civilian regime, I never saw Dr Musa Again, I heard he no longer worked in the Barracks hospital, that he had gotten a better offer in the States Clinic. I was happy I never had to visit his office again.
But now there was Aunt Tehiri, her muscular hands gave me more cause to worry as father had taken me to see her for malaria fever injection.

"What's your name?" She spoke in a tone close to baritone.

Shaking, I said " eh! Michael Ma!"

"Turn your gyansh" she said

By that time my father was outside the ward as he knew I'd scream.

"Please ma, give me on my hand, please aunty!"

"You can't beg me o, oya turn" she emphasized

By this time only Jesus, I figured could save me, so I turned and hardened my gyansh like a rock.

"Daddiiiiiiiiiiiooooooooooo" I screamed.

Aunty Tehiris' veins looked like she had been pushing to conceive a child. It was like bouncing a nail on a rock.

I never fell ill again, not for 4years atleast. I ate my vegetables, drank my oranges and stayed further away from mosquitoes. I didn't take "sheltoxing" my room likely any longer. Thank God they banned chloroquin.

"Derick, I would be coming to Lagos this Saturday. When are you going to send me my flight money"? Rasheeda asked with a naughty little girl tone on the phone.

Rasheeda and Derick had been online friends for just two weeks. Derick had sent her a friend request on a popular social networking site two weeks back, to which she accepted, and they had been chatting ever since.


Rasheeda Ogbonafe was a Public Administration graduate from the Oyo state university. Her somewhat shiny caramel skin left her almost unmasked in any gathering amidst fairly light skinned people. She was 26years of age and had an internet Cafe she managed just opposite her former school. She was stubborn but kindhearted, "A beauty meshed in a bowl with good intentions" her project supervisor would later add at the funeral while speaking about what it was like knowing and supervising Rasheeda's project.

That beautiful saturday the sky was grey, the smell of rain swooped through the streets and the breeze blew leathers, biscuit wraps and plastic water bottles away. Rasheeda had packed her clothes and every other thing she was going to need while spending the weekend in Dericks place in Lagos, Her cyber friend had sent her air fair. Rasheeda for the most part of her adult life had always been independent. Often times she would be gone weeks unending without her parents even bothering to ask where or how she was doing. And Rasheeda on the other hand never bothered to inform anyone.

Her mother had grown tired from scolding her movements at night and pleading with her to always bring her friends to the house just so she could know them personally and understand the kind of crowd she was moving with.

"One day monkey go go market and e no go come back" Mrs Ogbonafe, Rasheeda's mum often emphasized every friday night before Rasheeda would go out to party.

"Mummy, I'm a woman now, I can make sensible decisions on my own" Rasheeda would often retort, rolling her eyes like a spinning tennis ball.

At the Oyo State Local Airport, Rasheeda called Derrick. While Dericks' phone rang and the airports security agent scanned Rasheedas bags to weigh them, Rasheeda said to the female ticket agent:

"Its my first time in Lagos, I'm going to meet with my fiancé ," she lied.

"Oh really" the female agent smiled while replying to Rasheeda's youthful and exuberant talk.

"That's great, hope sey hin bride price rish dollars o, because you know sey you fine"!

Rasheeda smiled and later told the agent about how she and Derick met over the internet and later got talking via video calls and as time went by, they fell in love. Abruptly disrupting their conversation, came the boarding announcement -

"BOARDING ANNOUNCEMENT, FLIGHT 9:00am LEAVING FOR LAGOS, PLEASE PROCEED TO BOARDING IMMEDIATELY".

"Derick, I'm on my way already, just got my boarding pass. Wish me safe journey"!

"Safe journey, dear" Derrick replied.

The flight was swift with little turbulence. Rasheeda had finally made it to Lagos and awaited her luggage at the arrivals stand. She glanced about for Derick, surfing through the huge crowd when she saw some men on suits holding placards like sign posts. On those placards were the names of different people.

Finally her luggage had arrived and Rasheeda slanted her luggage tires out and dragged to get a taxi.

Derick had previously said over the phone that he'd send a driver to pick her up, and the moment she saw a tall man all suited up, holding a placard with her full name "Rasheeda Ogbonafe" boldly written on it, she knew that was her ride.

On her way to see Derick, Rasheeda began texting her best friend, Adaora, on the phone that she had landed safely and was on her way to Dericks house.

Rasheeda had never been to Lagos before, on previous talks with Derick, he had told her that he inherited his parents mansion at Lekki and that they were merchants who amassed a lot of wealth during the military regime from contracting to build barracks for the Armed Forces. Derick had told Rasheeda that his Parents were deceased and that they had been killed in a fire outbreak.

The drive through the Lagos traffic, up and down the bridge had left Rasheeda sleepy and exhausted. Her last words to her friend, Adaora, before waking up in a room thatched with black paint splintered all over the walls was -

"I don't know where he's taking me to, but I hope to get there soon".

Rasheeda's body would later be found in a hotel room, days after her arrival in Lagos, in a dismembered state. Her Head would be slashed off with missing limbs. Her body would be given to the states forensic investigators who would uncover a teeth gashing reality-

That she was rapped by not only one man but numerous men from the DNA samples found on her body, that she was stuffed with a bottle up her mouth and pressed down to the floor, And lastly, that she was beaten and tortured numerous times before having her head cut off with a certain axe that would subsequently be traced to have been constructed on the outskirts of Lagos near a certain kalaka filling station.

When Rasheeda died, people said she had a smile that could turn ice blocks to snow flakes, they said every time she would green, the trees would wave their branches because she made their leaves grow greener. Till date, Aunt Lolo still speaks about her thin laughter and how it sounded like a fallen canter that diced a trillion times on the cement floor before finally stopping.

"What a beauty, gone too soon" I later would hear a passer by say, who was walking pass her grave at the burial ceremony.

When we are first born, we are like new candles with a silver thread, by then our lives are fresh like the morning hew and would never have touched the flick of a fire. Our beauty is set on the saucer of mortality, waiting to be lit by the strike of a match stick. And when we finally breathe that first fire, our silver thread slowly but surely begins to deplete.

"The essence of life is to be happy, have a family that loves you and a God you always could look up to. Never put yourself in a position where you have to compromise your peace and stability for a crumb of bread. Bread would always come." My Father has always said.

My father is a military man, his own Father was a sergeant in the army who fought in the civil war. He often tells us about how our village shared borders with Enugu and how as a child he had to run barefooted out of his classroom because of the bombs that fell from the sky during the war on-top their class ceilings. He said -

"This woman you're seeing(referring to his mother) gave up her life just so I could have one".

He further narrates the cringing tale about his own father dying in boots and his mother strapping his little sister to her back while they fled the village for the rocks and bushes in the hope that they would find peace and refuge there.

"I sold pepper, garri and ground nut. Mama would set a tray on my head with so many items and ask me to go sell while she did the same". He says.

"I have traded, farmed and even washed and cleaned the boots of both officers and soldiers. I did it to get the little I could to sustain I,my mother and two kid sisters as a teenager"

Today, my dad is an Army General.

Well, my name is Michael and I am his son. On the contrary, you could say I was born with a coated silver spoon. Growing up I have always wondered why beggars had children. Often times I would wine my window down while Father drove pass certain parts of Lagos just so I could see these women with amputated limbs begging on the streets with babies strapped to their backs.

I always thought to myself-

"Maybe they were raped, maybe they got caught up in a massacre while pregnant or just maybe they wanted to have kids. ".

Or else,

"Why would you bring a child to the world to suffer"?

I used to see these little children and I barely saw them smile. They reminded me of the ants, always grappling for particles of sugar or biscuit to hoard for the rainy days, the only difference between them and the ants was- they were human.

I tried picturing what a day felt like in the lives of these kids aged 2,3,4,5 and more. The horror that plagued my overly zealous and creative mind was beyond words. The flaming sun blazing its rays on their fragile brains, the toxic fumes from motor vehicles, ritualists, rain, the noise, germs and so many other things that are as well traumatic.

Most nights I would quietly soliloquies a summary of the entire day. From catching my neighbor making out with her boy friend , to the stolen pants that were hung outside by Aunt Lolo which got stolen by an underwear thief, and finally to the paupers on the streets.

Unlike most kids who only knew how to play in the mud and build sand castles, I was introverted. I thought a lot. I thought about candles with silver threads and how they burnt out so quickly. I thought about the frailty of life.

I dreamed I went to heaven, and u were there with me. We walked upon the streets of gold, beside the crystal sea. We heard the Angels singing, then someone called ur name, We turned and saw dis young man, and he was smiling as he came.

And he said, Friend u may not know me now. Then he said, "But wait.." You used to teach my sunday school when I was only eight. Every week u would say a prayer before the class would start. And one day when u said that prayer, I asked Jesus in my heart.

Thank you for giving to the lord, I am that life that was changed. Thank you for giving to d lord, I am so glad you gave.

When things aren't going so well, and you're happy in that sweet pain; Does It feel like the sky is beating against your chest and your smile has taken a rest? If so, that's when best your pen pills its foreskin and sheds its emotions, its when you feel washed in confusion and sometimes frustration that you just want to bleach your existence away with the power of JIK.

Often times the problem exists only in our heads. Because truth is, at some point raging storms have to settle and when they do, we get to see the sun and perhaps even the rainbow. But people like me often scuffle in that choking and "turned down" moment when its easier to naturally scribble down and capture the pure undiluted raw feelings of being heartbroken by love, career, betrayal, abandonment and maybe that girl that promised you 'for richer for poorer' in that 'happily ever after' pick up line (not to say that there aren't good babes out there). So can we then say that "hurt is a muse"?

Because most times, Its in that moment that the rough drumming and thunderous sounds of a soft rock song suddenly resonates and awakens our inner melody. Its that moment when the world makes us crazy and we just want to cry out "laughter"! I think its the colors of life shining through in those moments.

Imagine your entire life flashing before your eyes like the slow motioned preview after the eviction of a contestant from say American idols or Big Brother Africa. Notice the touching memorable soundtracks echo through the screen and how that persons entire time spent on the show is captured- His laughs, his tumbles, her stumbles and her crumbles. Together these special moments make up a perfect story book( if its a big brother story book, you should expect nudity).

So, maybe life wouldn't have been perfect if we were always happy or maybe let's just say we weren't genetically constructed to be happy all the time(c'mon we're not robots or the power rangers). Truth is, life won't always be fair, we'd all have our ups and downs, our turn ups and turn downs, people saying yes to us and others saying No, we'd fail, we'd succeed. But in spite of it all, should we then throw curses at the wind and feel like dying? Should we ask why bad things happens to good people? YES! Its poetically ok and justified to question times when we don't feel happy and ecstatic. That's the beauty of life - Freedom of expression and being alive to express it.

In a nutshell, Life is a story book and we are the characters. So, pick an action figure and feel free to save the world, remember Storm in X men sometimes calmed the storms and at other times she sent it twirling into a big tornado( most especially when the Reptile dude pushed her buttons). Remember Samson had his Deliliah moments and then there was the bringing down of the pillars. Also remember that whenever you feel alone in this world, everyone at some point has been there to. And if we all are alone, then we are together in the experience of being alone. Doesn't really make sense? Yeah I know but I just want you to be happy in knowing, its not you ALONE, its us together, collectively alone in a lawn, popping champagne and saying "YES! We survived, we came, we saw and then we conquered".

Plus, always remember that while your life may seem auto tuned and "not so happening" , even the biggest stars had their demons to chase in their so called "happening lives". Ray Charles battled the sting of cocaine addiction, Whitney was on some highness "palava" and Fela had the sexually transmitted disease to battle. So, E don do, smile jare! Ah ah. O and remember clark kent(superman) also had his cryptonite "ish" going on( just in case you're a fan of the series- smallville).

When things aren't going so well, and you're happy in that sweet pain; Does It feel like the sky is beating against your chest and your smile has taken a rest? If so, that's when best your pen pills its foreskin and sheds its emotions, its when you feel washed in confusion and sometimes frustration that you just want to bleach your existence away with the power of JIK.

Often times the problem exists only in our heads. Because truth is, at some point raging storms have to settle and when they do, we get to see the sun and perhaps even the rainbow. But people like me often scuffle in that choking and "turned down" moment when its easier to naturally scribble down and capture the pure undiluted raw feelings of being heartbroken by love, career, betrayal, abandonment and maybe that girl that promised you 'for richer for poorer' in that 'happily ever after' pick up line (not to say that there aren't good babes out there). So can we then say that "hurt is a muse"?

Because most times, Its in that moment that the rough drumming and thunderous sounds of a soft rock song suddenly resonates and awakens our inner melody. Its that moment when the world makes us crazy and we just want to cry out "laughter"! I think its the colors of life shining through in those moments.

Imagine your entire life flashing before your eyes like the slow motioned preview after the eviction of a contestant from say American idols or Big Brother Africa. Notice the touching memorable soundtracks echo through the screen and how that persons entire time spent on the show is captured- His laughs, his tumbles, her stumbles and her crumbles. Together these special moments make up a perfect story book( if its a big brother story book, you should expect nudity).

So, maybe life wouldn't have been perfect if we were always happy or maybe let's just say we weren't genetically constructed to be happy all the time(c'mon we're not robots or the power rangers). Truth is, life won't always be fair, we'd all have our ups and downs, our turn ups and turn downs, people saying yes to us and others saying No, we'd fail, we'd succeed. But in spite of it all, should we then throw curses at the wind and feel like dying? Should we ask why bad things happens to good people? YES! Its poetically ok and justified to question times when we don't feel happy and ecstatic. That's the beauty of life - Freedom of expression and being alive to express it.

In a nutshell, Life is a story book and we are the characters. So, pick an action figure and feel free to save the world, remember Storm in X men sometimes calmed the storms and at other times she sent it twirling into a big tornado( most especially when the Reptile dude pushed her buttons). Remember Samson had his Deliliah moments and then there was the bringing down of the pillars. Also remember that whenever you feel alone in this world, everyone at some point has been there to. And if we all are alone, then we are together in the experience of being alone. Doesn't really make sense? Yeah I know but I just want you to be happy in knowing, its not you ALONE, its us together, collectively alone in a lawn, popping champagne and saying "YES! We survived, we came, we saw and then we conquered".

Plus, always remember that while your life may seem auto tuned and "not so happening" , even the biggest stars had their demons to chase in their so called "happening lives". Ray Charles battled the sting of cocaine addiction, Whitney was on some highness "palava" and Fela had the sexually transmitted disease to battle. So, E don do, smile jare! Ah ah. O and remember clark kent(superman) also had his cryptonite "ish" going on( just in case you're a fan of the series- smallville).