don’t ‘duck’ with me

Lmho, this is my picture of the day. And a friend of mine used it wonderfully in a pun. 

Anyway, I get confused about where to classify the stuff I write. Like they are not poems, I’m well aware, write-ups?? Articles??? No ‘ducking’ idea. Lol 

So the content this time, I’d like to classify as a poem. I rarely write poems. I am yet to understand the whole literature terms and you know, all the complications that comes with being a modern day Alice Walker. So I rarely do. But this ‘poem’ I’d like to share. It’s pretty basic and simple but like they say it’s the feeling that counts. 

It’s titled “tonight” which is pretty cliché since the word “tonight” is in every stanza (ouu a literature word… Imma get the hang of this, lol!).


Tonight I lay, 
Alone engulfed by thoughts, 

Kept warm by my arms, 

In the company of sweet silence. 
Tonight I dream, 

With a mind with no fears, 

Of a mind with no fears, 

With no chains to limit my freedom. 
Tonight I dance, 

Under the rain, 

With my joys and sorrow, 

Unabashed and unashamed. 
…and most of all to my own music. 



Well, that’s it. Nothing serious. Besides I’ve taken it upon myself, to post more often than I used to. Have a lovely day and ‘ducking’ not let anyone ‘duck’ with you. 

P. S: I’m working on a ‘bonnie and clyde’ series, and a bunch of other lazy art/illustrative stuff, I’ll be posting here. And hidden figures is a really beautiful movie -just had to add that. 


My Email:

Feel free to leave constructive thoughts and topic I guess or ideas even. 

Originally titled ‘hmm’

Once upon a time, I came across a picture. It had this simple sentence “healing is not linear”. It really isn’t. Some nights are better than some, some mornings are almost bearable. 

I mean in between horrid ‘nightmares’ from an over imaginative compelling mind and actual despair leading to lack of sleep all which sums up to give really -what word to use- Fucked up sleeping patterns healing isn’t linear. 

11mI remember the picture. It had a pink background and flowers with the words written on top of the flowers. 

I could type that some days are great. I try to get by the ’24’ keeping my cool, trying to distract my mind and thoughts from replaying or repeating memories, sometimes even altering them. Other days, I become desperate searching for ‘happiness’, welcome ‘narcotics’, half insane ‘bitch’. 

One thing that cuts across my mind though is the pain is not entirely or exactly relatable. On my wordpress, I follow this blogger who recently lost her father a few months back. Most of her follow up blog posts have had memories and experiences of and with him splattered everywhere, like in most sentences. Now, I lost no one literally speaking not in that way anyway, it’s just ‘good old heartbreak’. People go through this shit everyday. And sadly, it feels bad, ‘sad mad’ that I have to admit to feeling this way but I do. 

I had no idea that it would take this huge chunk of my thinking and working faculty. Or a hint that it would even affect me one-third of the way I feel right now. No idea if I should be allowed to wail in sorrow like i actually lost someone. 

‘Ore-mi’ (which translates to ‘my friend’) suggested earlier that I write about how I felt. I dismissed the idea, now my pencil is on my paper and refusing to shut up. 

 “Healing is not linear”, but it does happen, lol, even after violent outbursts. Back to dealing with the ’24’ one situation at a time and avoiding some good music so I do not have a memory recall break-down moment and ‘relapse’. 



Lacey webs

I watched her dance, 

My eyes transfixed to the movement of her slim tiny waist, 

She embodied the whole features of a woman I would name ‘hot sauce’, 

That was before she kissed me… 

Before we exchanged those tiny chuckles

In between our uncertain kisses. 

Now she was drinking water from a glass, 

A gesture so pure, so simple, yet so sexy. 

I watched intensely as the glass reached her slim wide lips, 

The lips that filled my current fantasies. 

Her gulp, a simple swallow that would on every other day annoy me, 

But was right now pulling my inner strings. 

My mind flew to our past memories, 

Our secret letters, the eye gestures, our trysts. 

My insides got dancing. 

Before that kiss, we simply sang songs together, 

Mumbling lines we didn’t know, 

Not paying attention to lyrics, 

Not caring to understand. 

Before that kiss, we simply prepared meals because we needed to, 

Not because we love to explore the depths of our taste buds, 

Before that kiss, with our quarells, hell froze over. 

Now it was a series of volcanic erruptions, the type that wipes an island out. 

All was well and unwell before that kiss. 

Now, I was staring at her with my head hanging from my neck,

My shoulders braced up high, waiting patiently,

Ready to spring at any chance of her lips bumping into mine. 

Now, songs from ‘the weeknd’ made better sense to me. 

Now, my mind played recordings of slow streched moans. 

She whispered soft, confident words to my ear, 

“You want me”

And walked away. 

Leaving me there, sitting, wanting, hungry. 

I let my imaginations toy with me a little, 

Before standing up and walking away, 

The last thought on my mind; 

“How much I wanted her”. 

………………………………………. Eiphiee.


Emotional assholes…

So on my previous posts i stated that for my next series of post i will be posting ‘art’. This is my first post on the series and it is a collaboration. So i know this ’emotional asshole’ (and i mean that literally) that does this ‘sick’ drawings (some wicked stuff). I am a fan, a huge fan. His originality attracts my eye. I was so happy to get to do this collaboration with him. Do check him out. His ig handle : _cvrtello_shii (see i mentioned ’emo assholes’;))

It’s titled ‘webbed’

And the writeup that follows is mine, 

I was exhausted from running, my feet sore, my knees weak, why I felt this much terror, I could not identify, I could not understand.

I let myself fall on the grass. It felt soft, receiving, welcoming. Ready to accept me and my burdens…

I began to let myself go, shut my eyes, feel the breeze, letting it cool my sweaty skin, listening to nature taking it’s course 

From the swaying and snapping of tree banches in the wind, to the chipping sound of the crickets in a short distance…

I was starting to sleep when it hit me again,

Before I knew it, my eyes sprung open, my mind willed my exhausted body to stand, I started running again,

Running from you…

Running from the thought that you would capture me and I would fall, 

Hopelessly and helplessly, completely head over heels…

Fall with my sad truth,

That you’d never catch me…

I’d never be free from you

So that’s it for the first post on the “art series 1”. 


P.s: please drop works you feel i could check. From drawings to even food…#beopen…