The Enigmatic

FULL PROOF (Official) TRAILER

2016-09-06T04:51:00.001-07:00

RESTLESS LOVE

2015-10-06T03:36:00.002-07:00

My heart is a den of ions

With each sparkle their charge I breathe

No; your charge I mean

Like the twist in the name-Oliver

Never ever leaving this insatiable state

Though never stopping my eye-state prostitution

For you,

I will become the wind

Fly with you over the mountains

To land, and then land in the sea

I want to drown with you in the ocean

With me in you I am certain of wetness

We could become the water bodies

And make ourselves the man-made mermaids

Our aquatic supply shall become a source

To the aphrodisiac mammals, to make them gods

And back on land we will turn into fire

To soften the iron hearts; to make them love

Their eyes shall only see the million sparkles of our love-making

There and then their hormones will kiss hypnosis

I know this love is in desire for adventures

But every day I want to be buried in your earth

Another planet fills me with no satisfaction

Even the white lava of my volcano

Settles no better with the landing you give

Hence, the burden I bring I plead you carry

For this love can never rest in peace

Unless it is buried in the cave found in your earth

This love is a drug abuse

It will keep me high for a while

But I will come again for another dose

This love can never satisfy me

Yet this love is the only one that appeases me

© EnigmaTic Olumide

10-08-15 2:45-3:00PM

My Favourite Poetry Video, I COUNT, is Out

2015-09-01T02:52:00.000-07:00

The official was released on 1st September 2015 on EGC Tv YouTube page.

Probably first of its kind, the video went extra mile into dramatic display, making it seem like a short film/story, but then the message remains the same:

"To the many souls being lost everyday, the many soldiers we lose, the many hearts quaking, the many repetition of same mistakes that lead us backwards, and the many dead I count...

This Video is a wake up call, not only for all Nigerians, but all Africans. I Count... You need to Count too."

Watch the video, share with friends, and download it.
If you don't know how to download, mail egcmails@gmail.com

Cheers!

ODUDUWA

2015-05-11T02:22:00.000-07:00

Oduduwa

Thy son grand-mother called me

But sorry, I've never known thee

Let alone proclaim thee

The god called father - our ancestor

Tell me…

How come our land is such a mess?

We no longer fight the invaders

Now we fight our inner-man

Killing her completely

We live like the rich men in hell

How come Awolowo is not yet our president?

The politicians all claim to follow him

But as far as I see; they are jesters

Yet you lie in the grave hoping we'd keep cool

But now our patience lies on the extinct bed

Like the dinosaurs

Even our culture is becoming histories

But you do not care

How could you?

You were like these ‘polithiefians’

Where were you when even in our own land

The foreigners held sway and even kill our folks

Yet we bow in adoration

And eat their poos

Our leaders own not a mouth to speak

Let alone the daggers to fight

They were mere men

You were a man

We just could not see

III

They said you were a god

Can you stand the white man's god?

Your statue that we bow to

Have all been taken by his missionaries

Even a white slave now fiddle with thee

Little wonder, their god-Jesus- does a lot of miracles

Oduduwa

The blood passed onto our generation

I hail thee

I wish I could bow to thee

For the beauty of being black you passed on to me

But I'd rather be known as a follower of a white god

Him alone has not failed me

I cannot put my life in the hand of my ancestor

(c)17.04.12 6:20-6:30pm

GIVE US A KING!

2015-02-17T05:20:00.001-08:00

Jonathan was born

To become the King

We’ve never really had one

More deserving

To earn our yells so loud

Give us a king! Give us a King!

But our king will loot us

Rape us and enslave us

He will become a sly one

Wisdom of a snake; Gentle as a dove

His beauty will tempt our desires

And we will cry when he sits before us

Give us a king! Give us a king!

It was the cry we made

Not minding the doom we faced

If Jonathan does not become king

Perhaps, our David would have come

But he keeps wandering about

Running, for want of safety

While the king-makers made us see

Only Jonathan could be our song

Give us a king! Give us a king!

Now David may never ascend the throne

Our first king wants not a true king

So he fed on all our farmlands

Even sulking our lactating mothers

And when the sit be the only treasure left

He ate the treasure

So even if he dies on the battle field

The new king will never have a throne

He has ruled us on earth

He will rule us in heaven

09.02.15 1:45:2:00pm

DRAG ME TO HELL

2015-01-21T03:54:00.000-08:00

A woman’s heart is so fragile

Who knows what a man can do to it?

A man can either romance it

Make it bigger

Or eat it

And save other men from her pain

Love is like an apparition

Before we marry the woman rules

After we marry the man rules

But a woman is more powerful than a man

Little wonder

She can break or mar

A man without his chisel

But in fury the man is a danger

Of other men and the women at large

He must be a beast to have beaten a woman

Everybody knows the woman is weaker

Wait, what about the crime of the woman?

Maybe you don’t know some women beat their men

In that instance, the man is a fool

He’ll be a monkey in the sight of all

That was my tale, when I married Anita

III

I never said I courted a demon

To me, she was the saint

And I, the demon

Little wonder

When the prophets came

I willingly declared; I was the devil

I'd gladly give my life for her

Even if the truth we all see

Yet she’ll overcome me with her weakness

She’d drag me to hell

She’ll say I’m even the devil

After all, no man will believe me

© Enigmatic Olumide

21.05.14. 11:30-11:40am

To The Fattened goddess

2014-05-06T14:42:00.005-07:00

I danced

Forgetting my nakedness

In this time I hear no sound

The frenzy of the moment I’d rather glue

Wishing my sight never lost her place

The boobs

The cocks

The lustful sight of demons

All beautiful

With their blurs

Confusion

I pour libations

To the fattened goddess

She who sucks our manhood dry

Giving no honour to the blood we shed

Labour of our heroes past

She sweeps, everyday

Yet asking us for more

With promises

She would need no more

So some-more she asked

But now we’ve got no more

And then we died

Yet she woke us

Only to kill us

again

We bow in worship

To the goddess

Who rocks a nation

We kiss the dirt

Satisfied

More than we long for fresh air

For the air itself is polluted

The monkeys now rule in the temple

Guerillas have renovated our walls

Killing our future

While the children

Just complain

Till the tower of babel

Fell on we all

© 1.05.14. 9:00-9:20pm

#BringBackOurGirls #NigerianRevolution

TALES OF A NAIJA BOY

2014-04-16T04:23:00.000-07:00

He once dreamt of giving other lads- peace

Now he wishes to carry the gun

Like his brethren in Somali, Liberia, et al

But he dare not step out of the shadows

The melanin figments in his body insufficient

The sun blinds his eyes to nowadays realities

All he's got are the blurry visions of the night

Give me one word for a young Nigerian

Whose mother no longer has a heart for care

Her glands so dry-he got no milk to suck

And I'll show you legions

Of watchmen who snore away in daylight

Even when their farmlands no longer grow seeds

Yet their sisters have been taken by the raiders

Ever since the mermaids kissed their soil

They no longer know the word-abomination

See? These fishes even swim on dry land

Having sex with their grandmothers at the village square

While they cheer and make merry with wine

Dancing to the tunes of a neighbouring village

Even when their buildings have been set on fire

Various, the tribes they claim

But of one language- they build no tower of babel

Cowardice. Yet brawlers. Their origin of praise singers

Always available where banana will fall

Fuming at the passersby- they drop no daily meal

Shaking like a jelly fish at the times of action

Yet never ever ready for the day of revolution

(c) 15.04.14. 10-11pm

... a dedication to the many lives sacrificed on the altar of Nigeria.

THROUGH THE EYES OF A WOMAN

2014-03-24T14:32:00.000-07:00

The sun was so hot on that day that I felt like not leaving her office. Worse case, because there was no space in her office premises we had to make do with a commercial parking lot some distance away. That day I didn’t worry about our driver who must have been burning away in the hot car; well, the car had A/C but we do not expect him to put it on since he knew our meeting with the client may take some time.

The way I relaxed in lady Mercy’s office was beyond the ordinary. But I didn’t beat myself for it, sake of the torture I had in the sun for trekking to her office from the car park. We’ve had a business relationship for over a year and with the way we relate I hoped she would understand. The A/C in her office was almost freezing and it really relieved me. A young man hustling to make ends meet, whose business requires him to tie some ropes around his neck (tie) and be in suit for an official meeting with clients. It was however easier for my female colleague, Halima, she was not the sales lead in this case; she only came as a support, wearing a simple corporate gown. Lady Mercy on the other hand was also corporate, wearing a black suit on a sky-blue top, a high heel, and her usual recommended eye glasses just hung on her nose beautifully. From the way she cuddled herself and relaxed on her executive seat I assumed she was cold too.

At least that was my thought until Halima voiced out when we were leaving her office premises, “Olumide, I’m warning you, be careful with this woman o!”

“How do you mean be careful?” Indeed I was lost.

“You mean you can’t see the way she was looking at you? See, I am a woman and I know the way women think and react. From the way she looked at you I can tell she wants to have something to do with you…”

And so she went on trying to convince me she was right because she is a woman like the lady. Well, I still say with due respect that I disagree with her. I mean, if a lady likes me, one way or the other I often get to decode from her body language (Yeah. Reading too much of James Hadley Chase in my earlier days gave me that bad idea). But with lady Mercy I saw nothing. Moreover, she was older than me (if that matters), though I’m not sure if she was married I often hear her talk about her baby girl of about eight years in age. Now, at this point I just got married and I fear tampering with my marriage would be the least anybody would expect from me…

But that is by the way; anyway, just few weeks ago I encountered a female friend in a poetic gathering. We got talking. And we talked to the point where I invited her for a poetry event I host quarterly in Ibadan. When she told me she is no longer based in Ibadan and would find it difficult to come because she doesn’t have anybody she could spend the night with a day before the event - because she doesn’t like coming to Ibadan and leaving the same day, I told her she could come and spend the night in my house. The next thing she said was, “Ha! You are a married man. I don’t want wahala o!”

I was like “Wahala ke?”

She said, “See, I am a woman, and I know how women think: if your wife sees me she may think that there is something between us…”

Much as I explained to her that other ladies who are members of organizing team for the event also come from outside Ibadan and sleep at my place she was still jittery, stating my wife may not react in my presence but may react when I am not there. Of course, because she is also a woman she said she would see what my own eyes cannot see.

Now I get weary of the way women see things: What’s with the way women see women?

Yes. I know women are deeper and get better understanding of things in much more ways than men. But, what is it with the way they see? What about we leave fiction and face facts? … What worries me in these two arguments, with two different people, at two different locations, was that they based their judgments only with the way women see.

AMARACHI

2014-02-25T02:57:00.000-08:00

It was about 16 years ago and I still remember her vividly. Blue eyes. Figure eight. Clean. Very well endowed, both in front and at the back. Not too tall, though, but a very good girl from a humble background. She was also not that brilliant, though she uses recommended glasses like the brilliant ones amidst us; I guess the problem was that we tend to associate brilliance with recommended glasses. Like we used to say then, the ones who used glasses were the ones who have read to the extent that they couldn’t see well anymore. But I give her credit for intelligence: she surrounded herself with six other girls who were more brilliant than herself.

We were in final year in then, I remember we were only allowed to use trouser when we got to final year in my secondary school. It was nicker from JSS1 to SS2. The girls too would use pinafore till they got to final year before they changed to shirt and skirt. They looked more beautiful with the change. Like most of the seniour boys, I enjoyed strolling home in the midst of girls after school, instead of taking a bus to my home, which was quite a distance. The incentive was that Amarachi and her six other friends used to be my company, till we all part just before I get to my street.

Our friendship began when on a quiet day like that I walked up to her and told her “Happy Birthday.” She was stunned! What she did not know was that we shared the same birthday, though I am a year older, and I incidentally got to know when we were filling one of our final year forms. We enjoyed a very close rapport to the extent that my other male friends were jealous. You know guys; they began to call us boyfriend and girlfriend… Even I didn’t know why I didn’t woo her, because it was obvious to a James-Hardley-Chase-reading mind like me that she was giving me green lights. Maybe I overplayed hard to get. Or maybe I was not so sure of my wooing muse at that time.

But our relationship suddenly got worse. Beyond sufficient repairs. Till we finished school and now we see no more.

It was a simple incident that we both didn’t allow enough caution on. I was the president of Photo Club. A club I joined solely because of business gains, if not I would have stuck to Jet Club like her. Well, it was not uncommon for guys to take free photographs for their female friends then (even now), but sometimes we adhere to business strictly and take our money even if the girl was the prettiest in school. Worse still, it was the time of analogue photography. You would count the stress of cutting the film in a dark room if you didn’t finish your 36 exposures on time, going to the laboratory to convert to negative, and then you print on photo paper… I took a shot for Amarachi. And she was supposed to pay. She told me she paid. I argued she has not paid. The argument got hot. And in the process… She slapped me!

I didn’t know I had already retaliated with five more slaps until I heard the roars, and screams from our classmates. Boys cheering me. Girls cheering her. My white shirt roughened and dirtied. She, well, her glasses flew away and she could no longer see well. That day, our hitherto quiet science class changed to the extent that the Vice Principal had to punish the two of us for disrupting order in school.

For me, it was a blow on what I preach to my male colleagues who beat their girls, “They are fragile. A man should not beat a woman.” Little wonder, most of them were laughing while cheering during the brawl. I could remember Morgan came to me afterwards to mock, “You see now? Boys shouldn’t beat girls? What if they beat you first? What if you got provoked to the extent that you lose control in split seconds?” And it taught me a lesson; that you preach something does mean you can’t be tempted or fall into doing same. On the other hand, I felt the justification to react the way I did… I was the gentle type in school. And I was prone to being taken for granted at times. Worse still, unlike now that I have grown enough flesh, I was skinny. Even one of Amarachi’s six other friends had once threatened to break my bones while we were watching an intra-school football match. If these girls saw Amarachi slap me without retaliating; I bet the six of them would eventually break my bones, one after the other.

We eventually apologized to each other, though we were not that close anymore. The surprise that we gave each other on that day was too strong for the bond that kept us together. We said it was the devil, but I wonder why we stooped so low to allow the devil to tear the good thing we had apart. Now 16 years, I still remember her. I remembered her when a similar situation was about to happen…

THIS JOURNEY

2014-02-18T03:54:00.001-08:00

‘twas an illusion

How we live

Then we die

This journey

Like a movie

Isn’t reality

For the pain

The gain

The wastes

All vain

This journey

Isn’t pleasing

All succeed

Only awhile

We seek more

And more

Till no more

Then we die

& wake no more

This journey

Is annoying

Efforts

Dreaming

Schooling

In years

Then death

Young

Gory

How you left

Your parents

Loved ones

Dumbfounded

In your death

I see life

Way it goes

So obscure

If only we meet

In damnation

Or the nation

We dreamt

We might see

It’s a thriller

This journey

Is my last

I’ve trailed

I’ve wailed

Harder

I tried

But travails

Still the same

One wonders

I still live

Not death

Yet tired

For stress

Nothing we see

Really makes sense

In the end!

27.01.14. 10:00-10:18pm

WE FIGHT...

2014-01-15T01:55:00.000-08:00

They called a press conference

Even. pressing charges

For the many times we were felled

The Jabs we could not curtail

The minors who reclaimed our belts

Faster. we sank deeper

We cried. We lied

‘till we ran out of reason

The mystery we dread now draining we away

Our fans

Like thin smoke vanish at the sight of air

Flew away as if they got wings

Some associations now became denunciations

Me. My wife. she left me

Even when she’s with me

The helps we back upon now disdain we

Our sights smell foul

We’ve drowned too deep to come afloat

They failed us

But we’ve already failed our lots

They wail. Make blames

Saying we dead lions live amidst live dogs

Ache. Was a mild word to describe my mind

We’ve never made gain

We’ve only made way

Now the way to Canaan seem an illusion

The red sea of voices never hurt like a shotgun

Yet quitting will be our purgatory

Survival. Will be the greatest revenge

Not to conquer or make more enemies

But to strike a chord on the guitar of fulfillment

Sometimes it seems like we all dream

When in reality situations speak to our faculty

All we’ve seen however looked so real

Reverse was the case

We fear not!

Maybe we cared too much for image

But Image means nothing when the chips are down

A little ‘well done’ could have rendered our wall

For me. my keypad seemed to tell me to stop

And the mong’ers themselves never left my wall

Yet. Like a boxer

A writer must be prepared to stand alone

Train. Rehearse or re-write

Till this ‘block’ is finally knocked out

(c) 02.01.14. 10:45-11:10pm

First poem in the year 2014

MY LETTER TO YOU

2013-12-30T01:20:00.000-08:00

Dear you...

Just like yesterday, we said ‘Happy 2013’ to one another. Now year 2013 is unto the exit and 2014 comes in. For me I’d say I couldn’t achieve more than 10% of my set goals this year like I did about 99% last year, but I got reasons to thank God- especially because you and I are able to witness this moment.

When I came into this year it was just my wife and I, now we have a boy whose energy alone marvels me. I also have a business that has been my livelihood; a dream I dreamt since graduating from high school. For my land, my car, my Talents, & family, I’m grateful to God. To say I’m counting my blessings would be appropriate for this piece. This year I was able to do many things I dropped years ago, learn new skills, and make new friends. But the biggest joys were the friends whose love and encouragement charged me up to do more. I may not be able to share/tag/mention all of you here but am sure you know I appreciate you.

To say I didn’t have my down times would be ‘inhuman’. I’ve had times I got mad at myself, my friends, family, and few fans. Like when I was hit and my car spanned under a moving trailer only to come out with just a scratch. Or when I wanted to do some stuffs but because of family I changed my mind. And when a few times some colleagues/friends/fans mis-understood my actions and I got furious in my disappointment... they should have known me better. :(

Some of you have encouraged me. Some have discouraged me. Yet some others have done things that made me want to do better. Nevertheless, I want to let you all know you are the reason why I’m moving on. Without friends, colleagues, associates, family, fans, etc, I don’t know if you will even hear anything about me today. So for all your support on EGC blog, EGC Media, EGC Properties, Be Blessed, 31 Days of Poetry, Order sms, my write-ups, performances, little films I featured in, The Enigmatic brand, and every detail of my life I want to say ‘Thank you’ to you all... My family, My Mentors, My ETM crew, My Clients, fellow Poets, Critics, CFAAN, and the lists I could not mention here.

Thank you.
Yours in creativity,

Enigmatic Olumide.

I QUIT

2013-10-31T03:41:00.001-07:00

Today I quit

No longer to be slowly killed

I’d have wanted it to be quicker

But my quota was not yet filled

Though I linger on the queue

I’m proud I finally came clean

Now I can face my own quadrant

It’s cold outside-they quake

Thinking their thoughts ever form a quorum

Quick-hearted they failed

Never thinking me quick-witted

Pushing the Qur’an in front of the Pope

Fakers! Also feign religion

Even to colonised bigots

No caution, I’m forever gone

No longer interested in playing their quiz

Though I’m not afraid of their queries

For to me it’s a quantum leap

That my voice finally came up

And I’m proud I no longer quaver

(w) 30.10.13 5:00-5:20Pm

WATER RUNS DRY

2013-09-16T08:56:00.001-07:00

Just like the sun set

The dew disappears

We might run to the mountains

Even deny the pains in our heart

Seared, our hearts bleed

But who will protect us from the falling lava?

Another year has passed

Slowly, but gradually

We stretch for the grave

Where the springs change to the valley

Winters turn to summer

And the water runs dry

Who will protect us from our own?

Our legacies without an heir

No mother to walk junior home

Our fathers play on the street

Our brothers stab another in the chest

Dirty linens we no longer wash in the closet

Our monument we mock

We’ve dug the well

We’ve played the tune

We’ve even prayed in the synagogue

But our own heart we dig

Who will dare go against the wind?

Who will rescue us from our own mind?

(w) 07.07.13. 9:50-10:00Am

ON EGC’S NOMINATION IN OYAA AWARDS

2013-09-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

Usually, I’m not the kind of person who gets excited at any opportunity to compete for anything. I’d rather let someone else take it, even if undeserving, and wait till the subject of contention comes to me itself. But ever since this creativity in me got discovered my hitherto way of closing two eyes to anything called ‘contend’ has been modified to closing one and opening the other. That may be because it is widely believed that writers who win competitions are more reckoned with than those who don’t. Nevertheless, till date, the only two areas where I found myself contending for anything are in Nigerian Blog Awards (is that really to contend? Ok, let’s take it that way) and Common Wealth Short Story prize. Well, I have been nominated twice in Nigerian Blog Awards, but ‘no show yet’ in the latter.

Just few days ago, I was told by organizers of Online Youths Achievement Awards (OYAA) that my other blog, EGC, made it to final stage and has been nominated in Best Online Media on Literature Category. God knows, I’ve never even heard of the awards before that day. One would think I’d be excited; well, I was initially until I remembered a statement made online and directed to Melvin, a Nigerian who got to the finals of Big Brother Africa (BBA, The Chase) and didn’t win the 1^st Prize. It goes thus:

“Melvin: runner up ultimate search, runner up Mr Nigeria, Now runner up BBA, somebody is chasing your destiny just keep running.”

Remembering how I have been nominated to the final selection twice in Nigerian Blog Awards and not clinching the prize, I felt a little like doubting Thomas for my blog. But because the organizers mailed me to inform my friends and fans to vote me to win, I decided to give it a shot anyway. When I told the first friend to Vote me she said,

“That’s how you will be getting nominations for different awards but not winning! Me, I am tired of voting you o! I’m not voting!”

My morale was murdered instantly!

Even up till now, I’m not sure if my moral has been resurrected or I will tell people to vote my blog anymore... but, well, I get this too could do sha. If you would like to resurrect my moral, please vote EGC in OYAA awards ‘Best Online Media on Literature' category. Thanks and here is the link: http://oya-awards.com/vote

EGC: 31 DAYS OF POETRY- DAY 16- DREAM- by Enigmatic Olumide

2013-08-30T03:15:00.001-07:00

EGC: 31 DAYS OF POETRY- DAY 16- DREAM- by Enigmatic Olumide:

In my dreams I saw you

In the morning, even at dawn

You were the prayer I said at bed times

Any other dream would make my furious times

How I longed to see you again

After you looked back and winked a goodbye

Yes, we met at the club in Ikeja

But your demeanor makes you a Church girl

Like the girl I dated while in school

You treat me so nice I kept asking for more

Any other girl never came so close

If only I see them, I hate them when you come

Had I hesitated when I saw you again

Maybe I’d write this poem for a stage play

With me as the director or sitting as a guest

Now though I sit here I see me in this play

The beautiful moments were never mine to taste

Even at night you give me no way

Cuddling the pillow and screaming in your dream

Now I’ve found out he was the man in your dream

He came by last night to drop you a note

I couldn’t wait for him to leave so I could see it all

It was a DNA test and my son was his

I couldn’t believe my eyes but I had to act fast

When I woke up in the hospital my body ached

I guess that man must have beaten me so bad

But then I thought back and recalled the dream

My wife was right there relaying what the doctor said

Enigmatic Olumide Bisiriyu is a multi-gifted fellow who discovered his love for Poetry/writing early enough. He writes Poetry, Fiction, Songs, Acts stage drama, and has been featured in some films. Though he has been writing since he was in Primary school (just for fun), he started keeping record of his poems in 1999. He started Spoken word/performance poetry while in school, at a Redeemed Christian Fellowship conference, in year 2004. Little wonder he has performed more of Christian/faith based/inspirational poetry than secular poetry. He has performed at events such as Celebrity Read, Chill n Relax, Word Up, Artmosphere, book presentation of ‘If Yu Hie Se A De Prizin’, ‘Epistle of Sex’, ‘Echoes in the Web’, Poetry of love, etc. His performances cut across various states in Northern and Western Nigeria, in Creative gatherings, book presentations, and Churches. In 2011, he was a founding member of a poetry group who performs in churches under an umbrella called CODE. He also goes on an annual Poetry Tour of Churches; an event organized by Order- a network he coordinates.

Olumide was the first NYSC member to publish a book in north-west Nigeria and the second member in entire northern Nigeria (according to National Library of Nigeria). His blog, The Enigmatic, was nominated twice in the Nigerian Blog Awards as Most Inspirational and Best Personal in year 2011 and 2012 respectively. He is the CEO of EGC, a company he formed to participate in the promotion of fellow creative people. Aside creativity, he works as a Real Estate Professional. To find more about him please visit The Enigmatic Website.

WHAT DOES BALOTELLI HAVE IN COMMON WITH TUPAC?

2013-07-10T04:47:00.002-07:00

This is not a poem

Verily I’d say it is

Not a state of confusion

A state of wondering

Of two men we love to hate

Nay, for dexterity we praise

Yea we cheer to mock some acts

But for these we dare

To join the confusing lot

What does Balotelli have in common with Tupac?

We love them, we hate them

Yet their prowess we praise

In conformity with sage

This gift of a man really makes a way

(w) 27.06.13. 9:05-9:15pm

Join us for Poetry and sundry Talents celebration @ BE BLESSED (Season 3)

holding at UI ZOO Ibadan on 13th July 2013. Start time is 1:00Pm.

FRIENDS BY ELIMINATION

2013-07-03T01:44:00.004-07:00

If I were the wheat

And you were the shaft

I’d stick to you like glue

To let you know I’m immune

To the banters of men

Who separate boys from men

In their worlds they are sane

Yet they dwindle in delusions

Of things they’re not sure

If boys become men

How then could they be separated?

I see you are gone

With the winds though you smile

At me, you fail in my instincts

You said you’d be gone in November

We’re not even in October

But you’ve gone

Your brothers you’ve forgone

To frolic with your new found friends

In a new state

With those you’ve only known tonight

Leaving us, only to mourn your leaving

If you were dead it’d be no gain

I’d rather see you leave in betrayal

Now we’re even

I wasn’t there but I heard

What you said about my friends

You dislike them but I understand

Birds of a feather flock together

Noting your kind was a good start

Being you is another task

But by the time you understand this

I’d be gone

May be at the place we’ve all prayed

Sharing bread with the folks you rejected

Yet ready

With open arms to welcome you home

(w) 07.06.13. 11:00-11:20pm

Join us for Poetry and sundry Talents celebration @ BE BLESSED (Season 3)

holding at UI ZOO Ibadan on 13th July 2013. Start time is 1:00Pm.

ABORTED DREAMS

2013-06-11T05:08:00.000-07:00

Should I say it came as a surprise when a colleague almost ran down the battery of my phone some weeks ago just because she wanted to tell me she saw me in a film? She eventually saw me facially and expressed her surprise in seeing me in the film. Lol. Trust me, being a stage actress herself I used the opportunity to charge her to take her acting to the next level.

Aborted Dreams was a film whose cast were mostly students/alumni of Christoline film Academy. It was written/produced/directed by Kolade Segun Okeowo, a veteran Christian actor whose vision with the academy is to bring to limelight as many Christian actors as possible.

The story is about Bimpe, a Christian lady who was supposed to become a great prophet but found herself sleeping with an unbeliever named Laja. Despite warning from God and pleas from her friend to quit the relationship, she refused to yield. Her excuse was that she was getting too old for any other man to consider as a potential wife. Laja on the other hand, though carefree, didn’t know somebody was after his life because of this relationship until he was almost killed by assassins.

The Enigmatic played the role of a very decent DPO who works with a “common” Nigerian police officer on Laja’s attempted assassination case. I’d say it wasn’t the best of role interpretation from Enigmatic Olumide so far though (comparing his other screen and stage roles), and I know the best is yet to come.

You can grab a copy of the film at ZionStones Media, movie makers’ village, behind RCCG Redemption camp; World Bible Sales centre Alaka Lagos; Remdel Optimum communications Akure; Vineyard Business Ventures, Dikat House, Ring Road Ibadan; and other Christian film stores.

The next total practical class (training) of Christoline Film Academy holds 25-31 August 2013. If interested, call 08034539934, 08028876236, 08057894920.

BEAUTIFUL NONSENSE

2013-06-05T04:32:00.002-07:00

Fine.Tall.Delectable.

With my crown added to her collection

Religion could not even bear her pose

She turns

And I see a backside as in movies

Such that could make me delete my girls

Even if I format my skull

I’m sure it’d make no effect on my addiction

Soothing.Refreshing.

Was the joy I derive in her arms

Like Delilah

I knew I’ve slept with the killer of my dreams

Yet on her breasts I lay my head

Hoping never to find a better pillow

Tried as they may

Friends fail to make me awake

Leaving me to snore away my grace

Alarmed.Aggrieved.

I wake on the other side of life

Facing the doom of my folly

Not wanting out of my confusion

Though I’d pray for a last minute grace

I wouldn’t mind to die in this state

Bereaved. I cried.

At the replay of my days

Knowing this could have been a better play

But the love of the world became my fate

Now I see me in folly

The riches.The fame.The nonsense.

All beautiful without a gain

(w) 30.05.13. 10:55-11:05Am

GOD OF ACTIVITY

2013-05-07T08:18:00.000-07:00

Whilst not claiming to be better

I fear I might do you a favour

Not the one u’d appreciate though

And that is the reason why I fear

You may doubt my instinct

You may even loose me

But your sanity will agree

You are fine

Intelligent

But what are those?

When it comes to a home

You see many potential men

But your heart their action piece

Drawing nigh until the dark

Only to be gone in the morning

Hope shattered, you hope for another day

When all seem not to come

You resort not to be bored

Activities

Was all that you cared

Camouflaging religion for behaviour

The days of your youth you wasted away

Now claiming to be a saint for the weak ones

Yet I dare to say the weak are no longer amidst us

For the days are gone when men look for women in church

Rude as a pig

Your inner-man is like the mud

But your foundation-face we kiss

Until we light the darkened spot

Then, our heels we took

You remind me of my childhood

When I had no close pal

I’d go to the kitchen with my mum

Even when my sisters were all gone

Cooking and listening to tales from church

Was the only company I had

But all was activity

If I had a close friend

The real me would have been out

Playing on the field like I never cared

Not claiming to be a working kid

(w) 30.04.13. 5:15-5:30pm

FIRST TIME I WOOED A GIRL

2013-04-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

I could still remember

The first time I wooed her

Though it was the only time

It was a year after my high school

In a period when I was idle

I sat by the gate of my place in Ikeja

Looking idly at the passing flashy cars

Till my sight began to long for her

In the midst of her friends

While returning from school

She looked like an angel

I bet she was, though she was black

But her complexion was like black gold in my site

She was a rich girl, I was a poor boy

Maybe living with my rich cousins proved otherwise

But I guess my slum demeanour sold me out

After watching her movement for days

Noting where her friends depart after their long stroll

I approached her with boldness to state my intention

Only to hear a cliché found in the then teens

“Sorry, I don’t talk to strangers.”

Now I have grown and wooed many girls

Some richer, some poorer, but mostly finer

Some, of which I knocked off on the same day

Till I retired my wooing skills

And I settled for the woman of my dreams

After gaining understanding from the vanity

But I still remember her and I mock my little folly

Come on, boy…

“How could you ever expect to woo a girl like that?”

(w) 11.04.13. 11:35-11:50Am

EGC: BE BLESSED 2 is POETRY IN THE ZOO

2013-04-16T08:13:00.001-07:00

EGC: BE BLESSED 2 is POETRY IN THE ZOO: EGC in partnership with Eternal Order presents a Poetry and Sundry Talent event tagged BE BLESSED! Season 2

click the link above for more details.

ANGRY WORSHIPER

2013-04-09T04:37:00.001-07:00

Dear God,

It's me again and I must confess that boys are not smiling.

It's been a month since I last talked to you, and I wonder, you’re not asking of me shows you don't really care about me. If you don't see me can't you at least look for me?

I know you will want to claim the oga at the top; hence I should be the one looking for you. But really I'm tired of seeking your face every now and then without ever seeing your glimpse. You said we should talk to you in prayer, but I have loads of request I made of you that you have refused to answer. Worse still, when I thought you have answered, I realize moments later that you had nothing to do with it. An example was when I went to Katsina state thinking you were leading me not to change my NYSC posting... How come I spent a whole year without having a good job there? Your word says what you give you add no sorrow to it, but why is it that I had a mass of sorrow in that place? Why is it that even when I was made executive in a Christian fellowship I realised most of us do not understand one another and we kept having discord like the set before us?

Now you will say again that we can't question you, but really there are questions in my head that even you can't answer: like why you allowed my elder brother to die even when all my family fasted and prayed for him to live; and why you stand aloof allowing corrupt politicians to eat the wealth of my nation like gluttons even when the church pray against them. Now I think the reason you don't want us to ask you question is because you don't know the answer!

I may not be able to say somethings here, because I don't trust the postmaster. My friends have talked about the earlier letters I wrote to you, that they’ve read them. And I don’t want them to see the things I would have said here. But I'm tired of seeing unfortunate things happening to me. Like the situation in my job, my ministry, and my family; the temptations I face and the struggle to survive. If indeed you are God, let there be answers to my requests like you do to pastor Adeboye, Oyedepo, and other people who follow you. Let my life be so sweet that bitterness will not be found in me.

Thank you for your anticipated reply.

With regards,

Your angry worshipper