dare2differ:


Wicked mods!

very wicked, so wen is it gona expire?

Cutehector:
very wicked, so wen is it gona expire?

12th

dare2differ:
12th

aww still far.. I knw u must like have a lot of monikers by nw..

Cutehector:
aww still far.. I knw u must like have a lot of monikers by nw..

I do, lots of it

dare2differ:


I do, lots of it

loooooool, like just tell me few pleeeeeeeease..

Cutehector:
loooooool, like just tell me few pleeeeeeeease..

Not today

there is a reason for it

dare2differ:


Not today

there is a reason for it

alright... dis is d reason why I wished to hav dis chat wd u offline

All seems to be in a mess
The four cardinal point seems hopeless
The centre can no longer hold
Caused by a costly negligence by people of the colour;
Green, white, Green

I see a great multitude
Nothing compared to those of ancient five loaves and two fish
But this time,
Not all are humans

Crooked voices still yell
Gallons are being thrown up
Ready for the unpleasant gestures of an opponent
Cars bump into one another
All chanting the chorus ’’this is my space’’, ’’THIS IS MY SPACE!’’

Continuation and more @ [url]bectoyin.com[/url]

mkmyers45:
What do you think about us setting 28th of this month as deadline since we have willing contestants?

DEADLINE FOR WHAT?

check out my latest post www.nairaland.com/3042868/diary-desperate-lover-plea-updated

https://www.nairaland.com/3056749/passion-poetry

Great minds alike, please do checkout my thread... its going to be the collection of my personally composed poems and if otherwise, such poems will be well referenced. Other interested poets and writers are welcomed.

boyo123 is back, warming up for my new story

Hello people, pls I need you guys to check my friends article out and make comments if you can. Pls it will go a long way in encouraging him and it will also help his pocket in this time of need. Help a brother in need biko. Here is the link http://myefiko.com/blog/2016/04/28/starting-a-business/
Thanks

Whew!..Long time no saw!
I've really missed this section.What's up guyz,what's the latest we're working on..

I started this blog recently... http://www.rendezvousng.com ... I wonder if I'm gonna be good at writing. Check out my articles and render your criticisms.

[center]The Dead are the victors!
"we thought we are free, we thought the war was over not knowing there is a lot to die for...... " wydRead more...
[center]Let the earth tell the tales
of the men who gave their lives for the betterment of the society
and the Struggles and sufferings of the women
who through there death we all have freedom.
Different tales of the youth revolts and revolution for the cause they think is right.
All in the name of freedom,
so many people sacrificed their lives just to secure a better future.
Let their name forever remain in history,
let lips of the women sing of their bravery,
let the fetus kick to the tune of the song of their unselfish sacrifice.[/center]
Let a gourd be passed among the men,
let their swords be in their scabbard
and let them wear their guts to identify with the souls of their brothers lost in battle.[/center][center][/center]

touchmeder,

did you write the novel "the corpse on my couch" or a book with similar title. the writer writes just like you and used the name of the police officer you used in cul-de-sac as well as the location which was set in Benin as always.

if the author is you, then I must confess that you are a good writer and not once did I imagine you would be a female as your moniker portrayed you to be a male.

kudos.

Battered

Tied gele, all smiles, looking perfect in her iro and buba. Mum was so happy, smiling through her broken teeth, the sight brought painful memories.

Behind mama's smiles was a past, filled with pain, tears and anguish. With scars, broken teeth and visual impairment as its evidence.

image

Those days, wee hours and late nights, noises would filter into our rooms, then the arguments, then it gets louder. Then the voices become bangs, shattered glass, broken plates, curses and threats, then she screams, then we hear the punches land, the first, the second, third and we lose count. Then the belt, the screams increase, then whimpers, then the door bangs, and the car screechs out of the compound.

We would come out of our rooms, and go check on mama, scattered hair usually bleeding from a cut or bruise, she would look at us sniffing, stretching out her hands she would try to smile but the swollen lips and black eye wouldn't let. We would huddle together with mama, as tears fresh tears would flow from her eyes, sorry mama, we would chorus repeatedly as we cried along.

Baba wasn't scary, baba was a jovial man, simple, loving, baba would buy us gifts, take us on outings, we had a lot of fun, outsiders would can baba "nice man", "gentle man", "Baba jeje", but with mama.... He transforms, she never pleases him, quick to anger, quick to curse, we would sometimes question his love for her, but he did love her. Even though he hit her. Or so they both claimed.

I grew up in fear, as loving as Baba was we were scared of him, we would run inside our rooms and lock the door when he came back from the office, keep mum like we weren't home. He knew we were scared, as he would sometimes ask why we ran away from him.

Mama's bruises and wounds didn't go unnoticed, her brothers and sisters would beg her to leave Baba, but she would shut them out, asking them out of her business. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. Mama alienated everyone. Like a case of Stockholm syndrome, she stuck to him.

As we grew older and left home for school, mama or a neighbor would call, she would sometimes have to be hospitalized, I remeber when I went home from school and spoke to baba about it, he seemed to understand but he never stopped. I hated him for it.

I remeber when mama called me aside one day and said to me "I love you, son, and I stayed with your father and faced this pain for you and your siblings, but I'll curse you if you ever lay hands on your wife or any woman at all, only the dregs of men stoop that low". Only then did I realise she stopped loving him years ago, but put up with him to ensure we were not separated from family. Only then did I realise how much mama had been suffering, only then did I swear to myself to be successful and take her away from him.

My Dad is a woman batterer.

Wife battery is not African culture, it's bullying, it's oppression, it's wickedness, it's a crime and a sin.

Teach your boys how to respect women

Battered

Tied gele, all smiles, looking perfect in her iro and buba. Mum was so happy, smiling through her broken teeth, the sight brought painful memories.

Behind mama's smiles was a past, filled with pain, tears and anguish. With scars, broken teeth and visual impairment as its evidence.

image

Those days, wee hours and late nights, noises would filter into our rooms, then the arguments, then it gets louder. Then the voices become bangs, shattered glass, broken plates, curses and threats, then she screams, then we hear the punches land, the first, the second, third and we lose count. Then the belt, the screams increase, then whimpers, then the door bangs, and the car screechs out of the compound.

We would come out of our rooms, and go check on mama, scattered hair usually bleeding from a cut or bruise, she would look at us sniffing, stretching out her hands she would try to smile but the swollen lips and black eye wouldn't let. We would huddle together with mama, as tears fresh tears would flow from her eyes, sorry mama, we would chorus repeatedly as we cried along.

Baba wasn't scary, baba was a jovial man, simple, loving, baba would buy us gifts, take us on outings, we had a lot of fun, outsiders would can baba "nice man", "gentle man", "Baba jeje", but with mama.... He transforms, she never pleases him, quick to anger, quick to curse, we would sometimes question his love for her, but he did love her. Even though he hit her. Or so they both claimed.

I grew up in fear, as loving as Baba was we were scared of him, we would run inside our rooms and lock the door when he came back from the office, keep mum like we weren't home. He knew we were scared, as he would sometimes ask why we ran away from him.

Mama's bruises and wounds didn't go unnoticed, her brothers and sisters would beg her to leave Baba, but she would shut them out, asking them out of her business. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. Mama alienated everyone. Like a case of Stockholm syndrome, she stuck to him.

As we grew older and left home for school, mama or a neighbor would call, she would sometimes have to be hospitalized, I remeber when I went home from school and spoke to baba about it, he seemed to understand but he never stopped. I hated him for it.

I remeber when mama called me aside one day and said to me "I love you, son, and I stayed with your father and faced this pain for you and your siblings, but I'll curse you if you ever lay hands on your wife or any woman at all, only the dregs of men stoop that low". Only then did I realise she stopped loving him years ago, but put up with him to ensure we were not separated from family. Only then did I realise how much mama had been suffering, only then did I swear to myself to be successful and take her away from him.

My Dad is a woman batterer.

Wife battery is not African culture, it's bullying, it's oppression, it's wickedness, it's a crime and a sin.

Teach your boys how to respect women....
www.juggernautbnyusuf.

Generations

image

The plague had descended
Hovering around the town undescended
Ghosts; souls cursed
Curses unrescinded

Evils of ages past
Evils of generations passed
From father to son, passed
From mother to daughter passed

Looting and maiming
Killing and destroying
Oppressing and repressing

Voices of the weak
Tears of the widows
Cries of the oppressed
Curses chanted

Sins of the elders
Visited on the generations
Born and unborn
The plague will remain until the ways are changed

Dedicated to Nigerian leaders and the oppressed masses....

www.juggernautbnyusuf.

Two Kinds of Morality http://www.sujiandrewsblog.tk/2016/05/two-kinds-of-morality.html?m=1
What is the role of morality in our Christian walk?
This post will clarify your doubts about what the true morality is.
Be blessed in the name of our lord Jesus Christ.

Weirdo

image

I don't know what to think, neither do I understand, I keep wondering why I am like this. I don't understand myself neither do I understand others, worse, they don't even understand me.

I am a babel of emotions, worse than bipolar I can be happy and sad at the time, or switch from one to the other in splits. In love and hating, Anger and calmness. Everything is just muddled up.

I get confused, but I am brilliant, intelligence is a part of me as I am a part of it, I figure out things even before others do. But when I present my ideas they are too dull to get it, so they say its gibberish. Maybe in another fourty years they will find out. After am dead maybe, and probably erect a memorial for me.

As pawan the wind I am carefree, culture and societal values don't mean a hoot. Neither do annoying and nonconstructive opinions. I am very good at not giving fs. And shoving disses where the sun never comes up.

My dress sense is crazy, who cares about make up? Something that fully covers.. Yeah. I don't fit in but I stand out.

I have tried believe me, I have tried to be like you, to act like you do, to tame myself, to correct my weirdness and confusion. But I just can't, cos I am as abnormal as everyone.

But I am ME, and I careless what others think, point fingers and throw eggs, jeer and boo, insult and castigate.

I am a weirdo, am wired like that...
I am a weirdo, weirdo and proud

www.juggernautbnyusuf.

@segsbenks, why not come over here and tell me whatever?

Izyyblaze:
@segsbenks, why not come over here and tell me whatever?

haabaa! Izyyblaze, u sha want mak sister safari send me parkin frm dis thread, naa derailin dat go be naa, lets be mature sis..

segsbenks:

haabaa! Izyyblaze, u sha want mak sister safari send me parkin frm dis thread, naa derailin dat go be naa, lets be mature sis..

nao i can see clearly, so u av taken me to another ream, notwithstanding i think watever i wanna have wif u should be just U nd I, even though dis place is nt dat busy, ther is still sumone dere pifrin. cumon Izyyblaze just ur watsap contact in my mail, is nt dat much. is it? ..reason wit me sis!

sirjay:
Weirdo

image

I don't know what to think, neither do I understand, I keep wondering why I am like this. I don't understand myself neither do I understand others, worse, they don't even understand me.

I am a babel of emotions, worse than bipolar I can be happy and sad at the time, or switch from one to the other in splits. In love and hating, Anger and calmness. Everything is just muddled up.

I get confused, but I am brilliant, intelligence is a part of me as I am a part of it, I figure out things even before others do. But when I present my ideas they are too dull to get it, so they say its gibberish. Maybe in another fourty years they will find out. After am dead maybe, and probably erect a memorial for me.

As pawan the wind I am carefree, culture and societal values don't mean a hoot. Neither do annoying and nonconstructive opinions. I am very good at not giving fs. And shoving disses where the sun never comes up.

My dress sense is crazy, who cares about make up? Something that fully covers.. Yeah. I don't fit in but I stand out.

I have tried believe me, I have tried to be like you, to act like you do, to tame myself, to correct my weirdness and confusion. But I just can't, cos I am as abnormal as everyone.

But I am ME, and I careless what others think, point fingers and throw eggs, jeer and boo, insult and castigate.

I am a weirdo, am wired like that...
I am a weirdo, weirdo and proud

www.juggernautbnyusuf.

Hey.
Joined approx. 2 minutes ago, so I'm not exactly familiar with the way things are done around here, but I figure the essence of posting any piece of art/literature online is to get feedback, so...
What immediately sticks out, aside from the excessive angst, is the rather clumsy prose. Poetry is music, music has to have rhythm "point fingers and throw eggs, jeer and boo... " limps. it doesn't flow.
As a whole, the piece comes off as a bit incoherent and manic... I'd go into more detail but typing on mobile is a bitch.
Cheers.

segsbenks:

nao i can see clearly, so u av taken me to another ream, notwithstanding i think watever i wanna have wif u should be just U nd I, even though dis place is nt dat busy, ther is still sumone dere pifrin. Cumon Izy.yblaze just ur watsap contact in my mail, is nt dat much. is it? ..reason wit me sis!

I'm sorry kind sir, but I don't whatsapp, and I don't reply ALL pms, reason I suggested you tell me what you have here.

Hello, Mynd44, could you, please, lift the ban imposed on Izyyblaze who has been banned (from Literature section) by the anti-spambot since morning? Thank you.

JoeCutie:
Hello, Mynd44, could you, please, lift the ban imposed on Izyyblaze who has been banned (from Literature section) by the anti-spambot since morning? Thank you.

Okay

JoeCutie:
Hello, Mynd44, could you, please, lift the ban imposed on Izy.yblaze who has been banned (from Literature section) by the anti-spambot since morning? Thank you.

Thanks sweetheart.
Thanks to Obinnau and Mynd44 too,for coming to my rescue.

Izyyblaze:

Thanks sweetheart.
Thanks to Obin.nau and Myn.d44 too,for coming to my rescue.

Anytime, Zee.

JoeCutie:
Anytime, Zee.

JoeCutie:
Anytime, Zee.