FIREFLY

It is very hard to capture. Like a firefly, it moves, you can see it shining bright in the darkness, it is illuminated, yet it is hard to capture.

I’ve been waiting patiently by the river in my ever-present darkness. Even now that the Sun rises, my darkness remains.

All this shit in my life; shit shit shit. All this shit that constantly brings me to my fucking knees. All this shit that I don’t need. All this shit that doesn’t make a difference. All this shit that never brings an iota of light to my darkness. All this shit that makes more darkness.

Here I lie on my own in a separate sky.

Here I lie on my own in a separate sky.

I don’t wanna die on my own here tonight.

But here I lie on my own in a separate sky. [Prospekt’s March/Poppy Fields by Coldplay]

So I search for my firefly; waiting here patiently by the river in a separate sky. Blinded by the river blindness; fucked up by the shit in my life.

God knows that I am so fucking high right now and God also knows that I don’t want to be.

Swimming in Poppy fields trying to escape from the darkness.

God knows that when I have my firefly in my jar, I don’t fucking need the Poppy fields. I don’t need their temporary warmth.

But she has to breathe. She has to go away to breathe. I can’t keep her in my jar for too long or she will die.

I have to wait here by this river, in my darkness, everyday, just to capture the firefly again.

Oh but when. Oh but when. This little light of mine, it shines far more intensely than the fucking Sun. The Sun for all its warmth, and its far reaching rays, and its fucking destructive power that fucking killed the god Icarus, retreats behind the moon when my firefly shines.

It does; it runs away from all that power. It fears the power of my firefly; it fears it more than God, its creator.

This is the power that I hide behind; this is the power that I am comfortable with. This is the power that I control.

BUT

It is very hard to capture. Like a firefly, it moves, you can see it shining bright in the darkness, it is illuminated, yet it is hard to capture.

Do you envy me?

Do you?

You should.

There is nothing else that matters in this life but your happiness. There is no life without happiness. Without it, you are but a spectre; a figment of God’s imagination. You are a ghost, moving around the earth without purpose.

I have all that you lack; I have all that will give you physical presence. I have all that you lack in my jar; my firefly in my jar. You are not my equal. We do not stand on equal footing because you cannot stand. You are a ghost.

This is why you should envy me.

Envy me, bitch. Envy me. Without envy, you will lack the drive to catch your own firefly. You think that you are content? You think you are content because your mind is cloudy; you are a ghost.

Envy me for your own good.

Catch your own fucking firefly; gain your humanity. Become a human being; become a mortal. Your immortality is paid for by your ghostliness. Gain this short mortal life for that light that comes from the firefly.

Immortal ghost to short-lived human being.

It is not a deposition, it is an improvement.

It is very hard to capture. Like a firefly, it moves, you can see it shining bright in the darkness, it is illuminated, yet it is hard to capture.

This happiness, it is very hard to capture.

SOUL LEAVES BODY

Do you know what I need right now? I need a fucking cigarette.

Fuck, I need a fucking cigarette.

I just heard some great news about Nneka. She’s thriving, she’s blooming, she’s going places, and she was born here.

I was born here.

Where the fuck am I going?

Where the fuck am I going?

I can’t handle this shit on my own; I need a fucking cigarette.

These thoughts leave me as the smoke leaves my lungs.

I can’t handle this shit; I just can’t.

These might pass for suicidal thoughts but I can’t handle that either.

Suicide?

The thought of further suffering in hell stays my fucking hand.

I can’t do it.

But I’ll still die; I’ll still die if I can’t have what I want.

What I need.

My soul will just fucking leave my fucking body.

GOD. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Notice the ratio? One God, several fucks.

I don’t even know what the fuck that means. All I know is that I said it.

Fuck.

I need a cigarette; or I need you.

But I don’t want to drag you into this; I don’t want to be baggage to you.

I don’t want to be a burden.

Please don’t tell me I’m not a burden for I am a burden even unto myself.

Where the fuck am I going?

Fuck. Why do I always fuck everything up?

I can’t fuck this up.

She’s one in 7 billion.

You are one in 7 billion.

I can’t push you away.

Then there’ll be nothing left in my body except my black lungs.

My soul will just leave my fucking body.

Please stay.

You said you’ll be there for me...

That’s how the Nneka song goes.

My heart is beating.

For what?

What the fuck for?

For you.

But that’s not all.

It is not enough for my heart to just beat even if it is only for you.

There has to be something more.

I have to have something to give.

I have to be somebody.

Or you’ll go away.

Away.

And my soul will just leave my fucking body.

It’s still suicide in that case, because I killed myself. I made you go away.

My heart is beating and I have to make it count.

No arrhythmia; got to keep going. Make the heartbeats count.

Fuck.

Cigarettes are the first step.

First step is the hardest; especially if you’re wearing knee-high boots made of adamantium.

I have to do it. For me and for you.

I have to be an Nneka.

I have to be able to make music; to do what I love for the people that I love.

For me and for you.

No matter the cost; it is something worth fighting for.

Or else, my soul will just fucking leave my fucking body.

I hope I wake up in the morning.

I hope my soul hasn’t left before then.

They say everything is better in the morning.

But it’ll still be dark in my morning.

It’ll still be dark.

Fuck.

I need you.

Einstein Moment

You know, I’m having this little depression problem as regards what happens after I graduate.

Not liking the working life much.

Yep.

But this is not a high thought.

Or is it?

(Stewie cocking his head)

Or is it?

Hmmm?

Nope. Didn’t think it was.

So away with you, vile thought!

Away!

For today we tell the story of how I got to temp site.

I’m walking back from the coffee shop yeah?

And it occurs to me, why don’t you just have that morning glory that you’ve been planning for a week here?

What, here?

Ha!

Here?!

Along the basketball court road thingy, here?

Ha!

What genius!

So I proceed with this Einstein moment.

Walking along the basketball court road thingy, I realise that I have come to the basketball court.

Alas!

The basketball court-the basketball court road thingy.

WHAT GENIUS!

So I walk towards the basketball court, where “sittable” objects have been placed conveniently by whom I know not, and I think about the genius of this Einstein moment.

Then I start smoking.

First I get desperate like “is this going to be enough to get me high?”

Please let it be enough to make me high.

A bird walks by.

But it is more than enough to get me high as I discover a few minutes later.

And then I don’t see the bird any longer because I am backing the football pitch beside the basketball court.

And that’s where the bird’s walking around; being stupid.

(Football pitch beside the basketball court? That kinda irks me right now, you know?)

The bird is a longish flamingo-looking bird.

Big enough to attack!

So I look left, look right, can’t see it in my peripheral vision.

So it has to be right in the line of vision that constitutes only the back of my head.

And behind it.

In other words, my blind spot!

God, am I good or what?

So I turn around 180 degrees.

But the bird isn’t there.

Then I start to feel like it’s behind me.

It was behind me before but then it turned around as I turned around cus it knew I was going to turn around and by knowing this he turned around in a fashion that placed him right back behind me after I had turned around because he knew the reason why I was turning around was because he was behind me, and as any human being would notice, I noticed, and I had to turn around to see what was there, and because he knew this and had been doing this weird creep-behind-the-human stupid predator attack that he didn’t understand why he did his creepy-fucking-self for a while, he turned around so when I turned around he became in my blind spot, behind me.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

Feels like rolling out a tangled wire.

You understand though, don’t you?

Moving on, as Olowodagba would say, I turn around again.

And the fucking bird isn’t there. Again.

What the fuck is it with high people and birds? Robert Downey Junior, that Bode dude, you know? What the fuck is it with high (famous) people and birds?

Fuck!

So I shake off this stupid feigned predator attack attempt and resume my traverse to temp site.

Oh fuck.

My feet are heavy.

And I’m getting to the clinic and I’m listening to Last Summer by the Lostprophets.

(And now, as I’m writing this, I’m listening to some stupid cliché thing on Spartacus from my roommate’s laptop:

Kryksus: The Dominus would do anything for his own Champion of Capua

Dotore: Spartacus holds the title. To regain that title...

A very stupidly long cymbal routine accompanied by a stupid screech from a violin occurs emphasizing a stupid unrealistic pause occurs at this point. I mean, who pauses their speech for that long when they’re talking in real life?

Dotore: ...you must defeat him)

So I’m listening to Lostprophets and I’m doing stupid stuff.

Like playing air guitar and finding out that I’m pretty good at that shit, thank you very much.

And lip-synching the song so it seems like the video is me walking back to temp site and singing as I’m walking.

By the way the Spartacus dude kinda looks like that Aragorn dude from the Lord of the Rings; they even speak alike. But it’s not the same dude. Of this I am positive.

And I’m getting to the gate.

Can I stop my high antics before I get there?

Can I?

Please?

I kinda do. The guards can still see my reddened eyes though.

Fuck them. I’m high.

And those fucking bees have moved. I think I still see one though. So I walk by pretty quickly. I’m not getting stung; fuck that. Imagine being stung in this state; I’ll just fucking blank out and probably share the same fate as the bee.

Fuck that shit; didn’t get stung.

Trying to cross the road now; there’s a herd of goats on the other side. They look menacing.

I cross so that when I get to the other side of the road, I am ahead of them.

Genius. This Einstein moment is something else.

Really. Standing ovation.

Anyway, the goats start moving towards me and fast.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

They’re coming, they’re coming and.... FUCK!

They cross the road and they’re on the other side.

What the fuck is it with high people and animals? Really. You know, Robert Downey Junior, that Bode dude; what is it with high (famous) people and animals? Fuck.

I am saved. I am saved.

I am hungry. I am hungry.

Einstein moment didn’t think about that; seems nothing is perfect after all.

I am hungry.

Battle of the Tits

This is a little something one of my friends wrote to describe the Oedipus complex. There are a few inside jokes but the general jokes outweigh the inside jokes. So here we go, untouched and untarnished by me. I love this.

Once upon a time in a place called Ebute-metta, there lived an aburoy couple with their grandfather Bode (holds the record for the oldest living cigarette smoker) and uncle joker Sirra. The man’s name was Laolu (man with sandy pussy), while his wife’s name was Koinsola (meaning women with big boobs). They got married and had a very happy sexual life; she gave him a lot of attention and allowed him in every time he wanted it. They enjoyed each others as they were both allowed to fulfill their sexual dreams; she liked his licking and he loved sucking boobs. That’s that about their sexual lives now to the main story.

Long period of happy married life and there came a problem, Koinsola became pregnant. At first this was very exciting; lots of preparations were done in expectation of a new aburoy member.

Nine months went past and the day for the baby to be born came. Koinsola was rushed to the hospital and after three hours in the labor room, new baby Laju (the trouble maker baby) was born. Baby Laju was a very restless boy. He slept a lot during the day and stays awake all night; uncle joker even nicknamed him black vampire. But with all these happy experiences, daddy sandy pussy started getting pissed. He wasn’t getting as much attention from mummy big boobs, he was feeling a sense of loneliness as mum was spending most of her time taking care of baby laju. What annoyed daddy the most was that mum would no longer allow him suck boobs coz because they were now meant for the baby. On the other hand, mummy was enjoying this experience because she could get the feel of newer, fresher lips on her nipples; it was like she had a new partner. This went on for a while and daddy decided he needed to seek vengeance.

He said since he couldn’t convince mum to change he was going to teach his new boobs competitor a lesson. He planned that when baby Laju was not sucking he would beat the hell out of him anytime he messed up slightly; if he missed an answer in a quiz or he doesn’t go to bed when it’s his bedtime and wouldn’t have a casual discussion with him. Mummy after hearing of this plan set out to protect her new lover. She knew she had to stay very close to him so she encouraged daddy to get a good paying job while she stays at home and enjoy the company of her new found love.

Very funny and idiotic but this is the reason why fathers are very harsh and mothers are very caring and also why fathers are the bread winners of the home and mothers are the caretakers, your father is mad you have taken over his lover while your mum is still in love with you. Lmao……………………..

He will be back to reclaim what originally belonged to him.

By Ehis Okpamen (aka e-b@llz but my friends call moi the commando)

Better than this

You can do so much better than this.

I can do so much better than this.

And that’s why I feel like ending my life sometimes.

We only have one life to live, and if I’m not doing my best, if I’m not all I can be, then life is not worth living.

It is fucked up; fucked up to read shit I wrote before and realize it’s better than this shit I’m writing.

It’s fucked up.

It means I am not evolving; it means I am going backwards. It means that I can never be the best that I should be.

I hate “buts”

“Hey I can sing but...”

“Hey I write but...”

There should be no fucking buts. There should be a period or an “and.”

“I can sing and here, listen to my album”

“I write and I just got published”

That’s what I want to hear myself saying.

There is no point living life if you’re going to be mediocre; if you’re going to be thinking that you had the potential to do this or do that and oh what a shame it is that you didn’t.

What kind of fucked up life is that?

You have to maximise your potential; you have to do all you can do. Only then can you be happy; only then can you have no regrets.

Only then can you say that you have lived life.

I know I can do so much better than this and that is what depresses me.

I can but I am not doing.

I am fucked up.

There are people worth living life for; people that you know will accept you for whatever you are. They will accept you even if you are the shittiest person on earth.

These people are remarkable and I think I have one or two in my life.

Lucky me; unlucky them.

It is not fair on them that I have to be this shitty human being.

I feel like I should sever these ties, because they don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve them.

Because I can do so much better than this.

I know it and this knowledge can either kill me or set me free.

They say the human being is insatiable; that there is no end to his wants.

Perhaps there is no end to his wants, but there is an end to his potential.

Most of us never get there and that’s why we think we always want more.

We never get to the end so we think that there’s no end.

There is an end and it is attainable.

Don’t be a fucking bitch.

Maximise your fucking potential.

I can’t look in her face knowing that I am not the man that I know I can be; that she knows I can be.

I can do so much better than this.

I know it and that is why I have to do it.

I will never rest until I am the best I can be.

You should not rest too; to be content is a trick of the devil.

You should never be content until you get to the end.

You can always do better than this.

These Three Kings

These three kings of orient are,

Bearing gifts to traverse afar,

Fucking with me and probably fucking themselves,

Dumbasses saying they’re following a star,

When they’re following the sun,

These three kings of orient are,

Fucking with me and probably fucking themselves.

These fucking three kings. Their stupid Christmas song has been playing in my head all fucking day.

Walking with a certain bosom friend, I complained about the three gay kings. And then the epiphany came to us.

There’s no fucking star in the world that can shine in the daytime. Or is there?

The sun, my friends. The sun.

There was no fucking act of God in their fucked up gay story (Gold, frankincense and myrrh. Really! So fucking gay), it was just the fucking sun.

Three kings of the orient (probably some stupid communist Chinese people. You know them fucking Chinese people; always wanting to be the first on any new shit that comes up) moving to look for the saviour who was conveniently born in Jerusalem in the Roman Empire.

What other fucking star could they be following? The sun; moving from east (orient) to the west (Jerusalem).

These fucking three kings piss me off because of their fucking low Intelligence Quotient.

Or perhaps it’s not their fault. This is the problem I have with the bible. Why does it have to be so fucking cryptic? For fuck’s sake, how can we discern what bible passages to take at face value and which ones we shouldn’t? I swear I’m not the only one who until today thought that the three kings were following some super-fucking-bright and powerful star.

The sun shines by day and shines by night through the moon. So fucking ingenious.

The ingeniousness is the most annoying part of this shit.

A God so cryptic making me dedicate my whole fucking life just to understand some fucking bible passage when He could have just fucking said the three kings were moving from the east to the west. So many generations dedicated their lives and they still don’t know this. PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF!

Did He fear the bible being a short book? Is that it? I still wouldn’t meditate on it day and night if there were only 66 chapters, so what the fuck.

I don’t think you see my problem. What if Jesus saying “I am the way, the truth, and the life” was saying some cryptic bullshit and we’re doing the wrong thing? What if, after all your giving on Sunday, philanthropy, prayer wars and evangelism, you are going to hell? Just because YOUR God thought He should play around with you a little bit. Behaving like a fucking sphinx and authoring a whole 66 books of cryptic bullshit.

I mean, for fuck’s sake look at the book of Revelations. Nobody knows what is going to happen in the afterlife. It certainly can’t be all that Harry Potter bullshit. Nobody knows. So why did He fucking bother to try telling us? What the fuck did He tell us? That Jesus was going to come back to earth on a white horse and shit? That’s so fucking far-fetched. If you want to do something, do it right. If you want to tell me something, Dear God, PLEASE JUST FUCKING TELL ME ALREADY! Stop playing with my head. Unlike the three gay kings, I have shit to do.

Maybe God is a sphinx. It would certainly abate my anger. It would just make sense.

A star that shines by day and night.

Fucking ingenious.

Fucking pisses me off.

These fucking fucked up three kings.