Fiery Goddess Itanje

Just read again and reminisced penning down every single word.

The Masterpiece's Pen


itanje-3And so it happened that Attah had only a pen in his hands and in great fear he turned to the wall to write something. He wrote on a hard wall one airy evening, it seemed strange at first, and then something even stranger happened. He got some headway. Who would have called it headway? Itanje, the fiery goddess, appeared somewhere close to the wall where the boy stood. She looked at him sternly, for Itanje knew for sure that he was the only act of kindness that had gone out of her or the works of her hands. A witty smug filled her face as memories of her first son came to mind. But it was not her fault. She always had to do the needful.

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All that matters

We walk this lonely path of vanity

Everything is very clear except reality

We crack complex logic in a bid to explain humanity

We unravel everything except all that matters.


The earth is flat. No, it’s spherical. No, it’s unknown

It’s a product of flukes, strange evolutions; an energy-controlled zone

Exciting imaginations – seeds of Sophia fully grown

Yet, we are blinded and bereft of the All that matters.


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We could never know

Our regained hope was re-lost days before

Damnation was the plan from the onset?

We try to hope on hopes dashed to their core

Strength failing. Mind doubting. Before us – death.


He was our last hope, according to the books

The prophecies read He was the liberator –

The knight that smote the hand of the oppressor

Didn’t we watch Him die beside common crooks?


He died. Yes, He died. There’s no argument. He died.

What more is there to death but an end?

His body lies in the tomb. Can we pretend?

But He would rise again. What if He lied?

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The Battle

The battle is very real

It’s not all about the singing, the dance and the lights

We often forget about the eternal seal

The only reason the devil still fights.


Souls will and are perishing;

Destinies being traded for excitement;

Gatekeepers are in their titles relishing;

As purpose is being exchanged for embellishment.


Be sober! Be sober! The wise one cries –

The night of weeping draws nigh.

The cloak of darkness unfolds stealthily before our eyes;

As the earth passes away by and by.


Thou soul that sinneth please REPENT.

Repent now while it is still day.

For with every passing hour, our mortal life is spent;

And we draw nearer to our realities after clay.



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Life as I see it

I live my life by the day

Not minding whatsoever people think or say

Not everyone will surely stay

Some persons will always walk away.


I like to be naughty and happy – that’s how I play

I make my mistakes and learn – the price I pay

I’d fight every darkness till there’s a tiny light ray,

And every giant of fear in my heart I shall slay.


This life sometimes seems a wanton delay

We find ourselves in a constant fight to keep a lot at bay

Preacher after preacher describe it as a relay

We’ve all got to pass on some baton someday anyway.


So Lord Jesus, help me to my bed properly lay,

And while the sun shines make hay

So that when my hairs have all turned grey

Without fear or shame I shall return to clay.

To: Madmoiselle Joli Yeux

Miss Pretty eyes, I’m getting into you crazily

This doesn’t happen to me easily

Sometimes it seems like I’ve known you momentarily

Other times it seems we’ve known from eternity


Call it déjà vu or voodoo

But it’s no Hollywood series nor boo-boo

I can’t wait to gaze at you and say ‘I love you’

And hope and crave for an ‘I love you too’.


I want to be able to love you and not be scared

Should it be a no in the end, at least I dared

I give my fraidy heart away and now I feel bared

My safeguards are off but I have hope instead.

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Greatest Lover of All Time

Thou Ruler of the Heavens
Wonder and Splendour and Power
Thou Creator of living and non living
Authority, Dominion are yours forever.

My heart is forever yours
Not because I’m compelled to
I wouldn’t withhold one even if I had two
You won all of me on the cross.

Your blood, Your blood, Your pain
My ransom, my ransom, my gain
Your cross, Your cross, Your death
My life, my life, my birth

Your sovereignty respects my will
Your love is the source of my zeal
My manliness is lost in your presence
You drain me of ambition and fill me with essence.

Nations Cry

From the depth of emotions
For the dying visions
I set my eyes upon nations
So forgotten and in incarceration

How precious the gift of freedom
How determinant the power of decisions
How hardened the hearts that do not see
How insignificant the truth could be.

Is it not the truth that sets free?
How come it has done nothing for me?
I know it like the back of my palms.
I’ve sang it more than I’ve sang the Psalms.

I’m in chains of course I know
My life lies mortgaged, that’s for sure
My hands are clean, still I serve my term
I’m just a prisoner of a failed system.


Inspired by a visit to Ikoyi Prisons, Lagos.

Titled by Ayomide (a cool colleague).

The Fire Experience

‘Welcome to every one of you. It’s a pleasure to have you here. It’s a hectic…’


A firm voice from the Security department roused the building with ‘kindly evacuate the building immediately, there’s a fire outbreak. Leave whatever you’re doing and try to be calm.’

‘Try to stay calm?’ Tall Willie reiterated with his pupil clearly dilated. Obviously he hasn’t gotten this far to be charred in Stallion towers. Images of burnt robbers by street mobs along the streets of Surulere flashed through his mind at once. ‘Tufiakwa!’ he wished it away. Continue reading