Twilight

Something is wrong. I can feel it. It suddenly feels like my luck is going to run out soon enough. Last night, the ceiling fan fell off just as I stepped out to get a cup of coffee. And this morning, I was nearly knocked down by a crazy okada man. Rather than the mad man to apologise, he hurled insults at me instead. My kid sister believed I have been cursed. Usually,I don't believe in such nonsense but I am beginning to worry.  We both had a nasty encounter with a rude old woman on a visit to Abeokuta last week. Even though she had never met my sister, she criticized her mode of dressing and suggested men might take her for a prostitute. Naturally, I went mad. Sharing the same bus gives no one the right to make my sister feel like that and I didn't hesitate to share my feelings to the old woman.  And that was when the curses started. She didn't stop until we alighted from the bus.  No, it can't be. I'm sure it is just a coincidence. My mind is playing tricks on me....

 As the jeering crowd gathered, their stones at the ready, Ahmed closed his eyes and remembered the forbidden love that had brought him to this moment. He remebered the gentle touch, the gentle whispers and the stolen glances in a society that never understands. The extremists roared as one,condemning Ahmed to death for his sin. But Ahmed knew that love is beautiful and it cannot be sinful to love Francis. Their love shone brighter than the hatred that surrounded him.  As the first stone flew, Ahmed smiled. In his heart, he knew he would die free. Free, his spirit will soar far, far from a world so wicked.

Cocks are crowing Dawn is smiling I am singing You are dancing Dancing in the rain Sun is soaring Moon is moaning Sea is stirring Stirring the sorcery the sorcery in the flame Night is nibbling Passion is cackling Blues are balling Stars are chuckling I am falling You are gasping Hands are trembling Blood is boiling Fingers are loving Tongues are teasing Lips are longing Longing for the sweetness Of the flavored, flavored sky.

Nothing is as colourful as your smile I can hear your soul from a mile Nothing is as sweet as this wine Except your soft hand in mine

Sacred time stands Still, hearts flip flop To intricate soul-strings Pulls by cupid’s thumb A rush Of hot dolorous desire A rain of Golden bliss Falling as roses On prurient paths

We live, die Gloomy, cry We fall, rise Once or twice Joyful, we merry Our heart as a ferry On boisterous, boisterous sea   We taste, rain Spring here, again Giddy, we kiss The universe, bliss Joyful, we merry Our heart as a ferry On boisterous, boisterous sea   We love, bloom Sonorous as noon We drink the sun High on us Joyful, we merry Our heart as a ferry On boisterous, boisterous sea.

A frosty morning in Jos; it was still dark when Tolani Philips had alighted from the luxurious bus into the dark quiet terminus, the cold carving out a chilly welcome. It was 3am in the morning. As she dragged out her luggage, her teeth chattered with cold and something else: fear. Fear of the unknown. Nervous, she sat on one of her boxes and waited. When she received her NYSC posting letter few days earlier, she had panicked. Lots of gory tales had been told again and again about the old North and its violent tendencies; about Christians and settlers gulping the red every now and then.   Her mother had tried everything to make sure she served in Lagos but all in vain. “Tolani, I am scared,” her mother had said, finally putting words to her fears. “I don’t want you to go. It is dangerous.” “I thought so too, mum,” Tolani had replied. “But what can we possibly do? I have to go, otherwise I will never get a job. I need that NYSC certificate.” Her mother hesitated for ...

Though asleep, Pangshin was wide awake. The little village was agog with muffled voices and whispers in the wild dark. Squatting at the edge of a bully of a mountain and inhabited by five hundred simple-minded Biroms, most of them hardworking farmers and all of them Christians, the village was still miles away from civilization. People here lived simply, life was ordinary and quiet. Tonight, men snored loudly and their women, dangling between sleep and wakefulness, stirred gently. Wandering in familiar dreams, little children wet tattered mats, while older ones muttered senseless words. The moon was awoke too-hallowed goddess of the blue shrine. Surrounded by the stars, she toured the dark-infested land with her bright all-seeing eyes, giving the village a taste of her fertile goodness. She was still in her gushing element when she saw them and gasped. The gentle moon saw them, and became the first witness to the rage of men playing gods. But while the hyenas were still circling...

I saw it all.   I saw the frightened little girl dashed inside the room, pursued by darkness. She tried to lock the door but she wasn’t fast enough. The darkness crammed the room with his dread and the girl screamed, praying to the universe to help save her innocence. But the universe    was deaf that night and God was miles away. So she begged. ‘Please don’t. Please, don’t hurt me.’ ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ said the darkness. ‘Just want to have fun. Trust me, you will love it.’ ‘I don’t want to. Please go away.’ ‘No, not going anywhere.’ And so, she fought the darkness.   Alone, she fought.    She was a warrior, that girl was, biting and scratching, hell-bent on tasting dark blood. But she was just a little girl. And little girls are no match for a demon possessed. He punched her in the face, broke a rib or two, reducing her to a bloody mess. Then he dragged her on the bed, pinned her down and started working on her clothe...

Darkness deep, haunted dreams bastards bleeds treasury thin. Sugary lips, moisten pit trickers lick clitoris clean.

  At ten, Ajayi wanted to be a millionaire. At twenty, the richest man in Africa. Now at forty five and seriously jobless, he is about to jump down the bridge! Everywhere, the world is dark and cold; on the deserted bridge, he perches dangerously on the rusty rail, ready to be drunk in the chilling death below. Down, way down, the water is waiting, its hidden claws, sharp and ready. Hilarious enough, the man of the moment decides to count one to ten before taking the fatal dive. He is still counting when an eerie but majestic voice booms, cutting through the dark like a faceless dagger. ‘What do you think you are doing, you moron?’ Ajayi freezes! He surveys the environment. Nothing! ‘Are you deaf?’ the voice persists. ‘ I say what are you trying to do?’ ‘Who are you?’ Ajayi screams, his eyes searching. Silence. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Up here.’ ‘What is this about? There is nothing up there!’ ‘Look harder and you will se...

I will seduce the sun, mount the moon I will rape the rainbow right in her room I will silence the sea, bribe the blue I will rig the races freely for the flu I will burn the bridges, blast the bliss I will weary the waters with my fist I will tender terror for a tea I will bless the brothers with the bee I will flare the fear, feast on their feet I am the fury of Allah, I am Ghadafi