King Ifey's Blog

I have got an erected citadel  beneath two colonnades I, breezy, lust is just blowing pass the shores of emotion as sea creatures wave creatively the erotic sea these i see inside the pool of my eyes . What a breeze? Gathering fruit of fantasy in my mind in anticipation, Eloped fantasia and reality, Aspiration flames across my mind. Soon dreams will come true without a liquid of sleep. The bed and a damsel! Let's create love with innovative samples of love making; Cake baking, Ice breaking, Desires in the cup of amorousness; Furnace of ferocious ecstasy, Bed of roses and singing birds of orgasm. Hushed night doesn't moan, She drowns into eros. The citadel erects into dark abyss of bliss of the night sky, Stars and moon, Sensations and enthralling passions, One language tower of babel will reach into heaven... ALLELUIA!!!!!!! #Blueadonis ©adonis06

SAMBISA WE HAIL THEE Once you were forsaken and obscure As white chalk on a white board.  Legs walked through you Yet they took you  for granted. How could we have known that you  Are the beast that now plague our souls. You  open up your mouth and Dark warriors of doom pour into the city  Raining incendiaries like fire and brimstones On the city of Sodom and Gomorrah. As little as you are Your mighty roar awake the universe  And you bask in the Belief That we now stand in  awe of you. Your river  overflows its bank And its sharks swim into the city Bisecting through abdomens and Roasting us into crisps For the scavengers' culinary delight. We fold our arms and watch Not that we cannot war.  The good monsters at the coast fought a righteous war. They did enjoy the Victor they had. What cause do you fight for?  You that swallowed our girls into your marauding self....

Evening Rain Fleeing wind holds the glooming clouds Folding herself along the skyline light breezy bed sheet on their stormy noise No windvane to direct the ways of my emotion. The rain is here let me dance to the tune to the splattering tune of the ground and space in one.  Creating a rain dance from the melody of the rain gods. Listening to the roof as it wails droplets of tears. So the dews will find their way into me through  the window. Giving my heart to love and grooves in psalms They will sing their evensong in the nave of my heart And wash my eyes' heart to watch The angels creating wind tail of fairytale. Of rain that leaves the leaves dancing to wetness. I'll roam the street of muse in the sublime moment I'll station my cross on the hills of drenched despair I'll dance the pagan dance of love and rain And kneel in the mud with my knees knit  to the splashing waters amidst the cold breeze and shivering. Love must find her way into hall of ...

FOR BIAFRA Home, is here; Where twenty nine elders laid their heads on the pillows of clay, And gave up their ghosts as gifts of starry apparitions to the atmosphere. We share the spectre of their last breaths and feelings in the clouds, Through every mountains’ fog and dewy mist on some jocund green leaves. Home, is here; Where countless graves spit forth scarlet springs; Now, there is a red sea, At the backyard of our villages, Flowing from the broken pots of our damsels; A symbolism of lynched aspirations, Hacked hopes and marred futures in the embodiment of inspiration. Home, is here; Where we share our particles of smiles, Near graves decorated with genocide, Writing the names of countless bones, On the frame of our heart posts. With countless candles of smiles, Lit with stars of laughter. We will brighten our home, Found on the solace of death, As home is also life after tomorrow, So I come home; With love dedicated to the lost particles of smiles ...

A Whim to Lie! Ogun, hear my plea, I have a whim to lie. Oh, Venerated one! You boast a largeese of oceans Yet choose to bath in pools of blood.

I rest now I rest amidst the clouds With the daughters and sons of the wind Free to reach for the moon, Free to stare into the sun. Freedom unimaginable When being mortal felt like a cage, When mother had me and clothed me in dirt, Hoping opulence catches up with me And gives me the life she can’t give. When I ended up amidst the pack of poor lasses Catered for by vile nuns, When food was a luxury I couldn’t afford, When hard work made my soft hands tremble in pain. Mother, I know u did what u did Because father rejected you You couldn’t feed yourself, and you had me to feed. I know you cry every day that you did me wrong You wonder if I attend school with the rich Or I pick food from the gutter You curse my father and your life Rest now mother, rest now The nun who clothed me, starved me I looked gaunt and yellow I rebelled and left through a conduit that let water off the abbey I lived in the street and ate from the waste. I slept in empty stores and sometimes in the bush My hear...

Westernization is Evil Westernization is Evil. It is the Demon that Possessed our Land, Whirled us in a wind  Of subservience, Shackled our thoughts And extricated our Hunger for prosperity.

Do you not                 love                          a bed that floats? It carries you about And you dream of travelling in fluffy skies Lost in a hazy dreamland as Alice, You twist and turn happily on the bed Smiling and giggling from faraway wonderland You touch birds and wave at the heavens Which you can almost touch If you should stand.

Because I am a woman My rights have been violated My joy has been snatched from me I have lost my pride, I have been treated like garbage I have  been negatively portrayed I have been abused and regarded a nonentity. Yet without the tribe of Eve, none of you will be breathing!

A new poem that tells what most people who leave their villages to go search for better lives get to see when they must have changed beyond expectation.  Read and share your thoughts

Alone  As I drew near the forest,  To see the flyer seed And the old woman's creed With the spying of her crest.

I have got this beautiful poem for us... very beautiful; although the beauty in the poem is quite ironic and that makes it the funnest part of it all. Lagos—in its grand look of sophistication, after being turned to look the way it currently is — has left some people bereft of hope of survival. As a lot of us are jamming our hands at the good side of it all, a poet somewhere sees the very subtle disadvantages that can make a heart ache and suddenly feel somewhat guilty for partaking in the joy of a city refurbished at the expense of others.  Have a wonderful read below

Walking through this perfect night Sniffing this perfect breeze Feeling this perfect grass Illuminated by God's perfect stars I can’t but revered in the solitude The sway of the breeze brings serenity to my soul The peace of the night Which stitch my broken heart. In the splendor of these waters l forever breathe life Crystal clear it is Depicting my eternal awe ohhhh what's wonder of MY GOD Watching the flow of the sea Its source my eyes cannot the see Unrestricted by nothing The movement keeps drawing me Take off my cloth and swim away with the current Wonderfully made Beautifully carved Awesome in all creation Who can compare with d moon's beauty Who can claim fairer than the Sun Who? Who? Who? I gaze upon my garden Beautify by flowers Which brings smile upon my face The smell takes my breath away a wonderful creation of God O thou creation I plea this day Forever l be thy slave Till the cr...

I am in love with a church girl A heart so pure and pristine High in ethereal grace and drowned in meekness Voice melding with the chants of the congregation Yet standing out for my listening pleasure. I look on, gulping down her looks Till I stand and feel my feet no more. She is not an ordinary church girl In my state of ecstasy, I could see through her heart. A halo of stars graced her head. Angels surround her, raising her feet above the ground The air strong but mild on her skin I am in love with a church girl Eyes drawn to her while she prays Her creamy eyes beaming with sincerity and hope For a better tomorrow in a worse-off today. When she touches me, The anointing I feel is both sensual and spiritual. Then a heart attack and a massive fall ‘Oops! Did I just fall by the touch of an unarmed hand?’ Dead daisy and unconsciously unstable Stumbling on things li...

The Wonders of Nature Nature is man, and man is nature. She has used her fiery golden wings to entwine man in wonders. Her fingers appear in mystery that many a man goes unaware of her premodial code. Oh she is a perfect Lord to man! Her help, so going like some furious gale as to jab.   Nature oft paints man as though were chameleon. Nature,   so volatile like a singing moon. She rules man for unknown years. in worry, she kills man when kiss wrong. She gids dussy dussy like the Noah ship on run She knows man, man knows her less... by Samuel Chinweuba

  Street children Rummaging through rubbish piles For sellable and recyclable iron and aluminum wares They go about with trays on their heads Tattered clothes their clothing Girls and boys, wandering aimlessly School bells toll beckoning students to school But they run on the streets blocking traffic With rusted bowls, begging for ten naira Then, Others brought to school in tinted glassed cars Others travelled abroad, the children of Senators And Governor’s and Ministers, and Founders These children on the streets, abandoned These children sleeping under bridges, we don’t care These children without parents and families We left them to their fates, We sleep in tall fenced houses, they sleep in mosquito Infested shacks in the marketplace Our children go to school While they beg and steal to survive Their parents we all blame “Why do you born what you can’t breed?” The more they spill into the streets And garages, and gutters Begging and living on the coins we...

Sunset Soldiers At dusk you see them Armed to the teeth Like medieval soldiers at war field, ... Deploying all their scourges to areas; Waging war against blooded beings Soldiers of the sunset Send forth their millions To unleash discomfort to all and sundry. They erupt from the bush And make their way underneath my bed Singing as though they were a choir of deplorable coloraturas With their unwanted voices singing Devastating songs that assure insomnia. I smoke them with lethal poison They dismiss only to emerge again Wholly rebranded and now they bask Luxuriously in my prepared potent poison. I wear my pyjamas, thick gloves And double pair of stocks , Sit under the mango tree, Discussing with friends as we yet Keep clapping on our bodies As the sunset soldiers' arrows pierce Through our garments to waste Our life -filled substances Sunset soldiers make me blue, Fill my belly with elusive meals And make me satisfied yet weak to the bones. I b...

         The Fear at Twenty-five            Years come, years go Some days are sunny, Some days are rainy. ... Some flowers bloomed, Some flowers are doomed Years come, years go Trees keep growing, Moon keeps glowing. Some rivers brim over, Some rivers dry over. Years come, years go. I sit by myself and wonder Why I never thunder And quake the earth After years of my birth. Years come, years go. I look through clear water, I realise my sideburns, yet no daughter. I ride through the panic of growing older, Yet it has not made me bolder. Years come, years go. My roads are unclear My mind pensive and in fear Because after a score and half a ...

Lagos I Miss You   Far away in my true home I still miss my Lagos home Too early have I sequestered from this true home ... That even when I visit for the golden fleece I no longer feel a part of this home; For my heart is sold to Lagos. What do I not miss about Lagos? Is it the early morning husband and wife palavers? The Monday morn' tussle to get a molue at the bus-stop? The go-slow that magically turns a two minutes journey into two hours? The blessed roads with potholes as deep as the Niger? The 'sharp guys' duping and pickpocketing at Oshodi? The collosal noises of different trade groups and vehicles? Or is it the anthill activities of the great Oshodi market? I miss them all. What do I not love about my Lagos? Is it the glittering terrain of Ikeja Or the fading colour of Iyana Ipaja? Is it the "Three Wise Men" at Ojota Or the great Awolowo forever standing at Ikeja? Is it the clean gutters of Shonibare Or the mosquito-infested...

Men on High Horses They look down on people from their high horses Carried away by their peer's praises Viewing others as men with no thoughtful mien Boastful with their words Acting like they own the world They forget we are all human ... Born by a woman Greatness is a height Which many has fallen Their deeds forgotten One thing cometh before a fall which is pride Everyone is not a camel which you can ride There are a lot of birds in the sky Some fly while some soar But none can roar By Afolabi Kayode