Muse Guide

The Dark Regret..

A Dark Regret...<br />
 <br />
Sick and dying, in my nonagenarian years.<br />
"How did you come to have your right leg amputated Dad?" My son asked, as he stared at my leg.<br />
I knew my days are numbered already, its time to let out the truth I have kept in all this while as to how I lost a leg.<br />
"I'll tell you of that story. It was a regretful one." I said, as I gave a long sigh.<br />
<br />
I had two years of rigorous training in Black Shadow's Camp,  about fourty two years ago was just like yesterday.<br />
Twenty five of us were admitted, only six qualified to be called modern killers; Assassins.<br />
<br />
 On my induction day, El-Jeffe- our commander called me, "Hawkin Dawkin" (as that was my code name), he stretched his hand to give me a portrait.<br />
"That's your first assignment", I was shocked on seeing the picture. "Yes, it's the newly elected president, he defuncted from the party that helped him in and he's now a thorn in their throat, they want him dead", though there is dareness and desperation in my eyes, yet I felt pity for the man, i stand to loose nothing, death is imminent for all, so we're never afraid but the whole nation will mourn.<br />
"There would be a conference tomorrow at 'Hawk's Square', seize the opportunity and do it".<br />
...<br />
 I was at Hawk's Square so early, to study well the environment and the reasonable perimeter. I was sure I got it all covered.<br />
<br />
 At exactly 1200hr, the President arrived, he was a man of integrity, he took to time but my job is a must do. At quarter past 1200hr, two bullets pierced his chest and head, there is hullabaloo, everyone run in anarchy. I quickly switched my position as was planned for my escape, and as I was getting away, trying to scale through a gate, I got shot on the leg. Immediately, I slewed around in pain and shot the guy. Two other securities charged at me but I somehow escaped, don't ask me how, it's my profession.<br />
<br />
The President died.<br />
I assassinated him.<br />
<br />
I couldn't leave the uncompleted building somewhere in a bushy hide out. Police were all over searching for me. Did first aid as was taught, but could not get the bullet out on my own; I needed the hospital. I stopped the blood, use all the tranquilizers with me to drug myself to sleep. My dream was full of nightmares, I kept on seeing the dead president face, I still see him atimes in my dream till now, always staring at me.<br />
<br />
Two days after hiding, I manage to find my way out without been spotted. I traveled a long deal to this country, and then at the hospital, it was told me my leg needed amputating, its been infected.<br />
Had no choice, I was dying. I lost my leg, but I gained my conscience.<br />
<br />
I quitted after my first assignment, I never return home; no Black Shadow, just regret... Thick dark regret.<br />
#wizardcalidad<br />
#Talesmen<br />
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The Dark Regret..

A Dark Regret... Sick and dying, in my nonagenarian years. "How did you come to have your right leg amputated Dad?" My son as...

Ripped..

Ripped...<br />
.<br />
A price tag on my heart,<br />
who'll buy a torn apart?<br />
the bell of this my part<br />
again won't warn of attack<br />
and summon my form to arm<br />
if war screeches a pitched alarm.<br />
.<br />
Already, itself is ripped apart<br />
be it self-destruct or evil cast<br />
as terrific-love approaches skillfully aghast<br />
should've block'd my way, as it nimbly alert,<br />
mend the gate, heaped protection amass,<br />
or it spoil the day; t'was made of glass.<br />
.<br />
Seems so near; very afar,<br />
splitted into pieces, several parts<br />
in need of someone so nice and pleasant<br />
to gather my heart that was shattered<br />
like some veals are brought from meats of calf.<br />
It's me, my Lion's heart was ripped apart.<br />
.<br />
This time around,<br />
happiness bowed at sadness feet;<br />
psychological attack,<br />
it struggled out of insanity world;<br />
sanity on errands,<br />
inhumane's that love, one given but ne'er earned.<br />
.<br />
Wizard Calidad<br />
#BIS<br />
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Ripped..

Ripped... . A price tag on my heart, who'll buy a torn apart? the bell of this my part again won't warn of attack and summon m...

The natural order 2

<p dir="ltr">The natural order 2</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is the second installment to the series of three. The first installment was about cause and effect and the reference story was a "bam bam" story written by John Jako, and here same story would be referenced but won't be in full text to avoid repetition, kindly re read the first installment in case you missed it, so you can tag along this essay well. <br>
Today we will be talking about action and reaction. In creative writing the natural order of action and reaction, is unlike cause and effect, because it is based on the choice of actions of the story characters rather than events or motives of the characters. The truth is, the best order is action first before reaction. <br>
Now back to John Jako story titled "bam bam" John story climax was a perfect example of action and reaction. In the climax, the lady Anwulika who so much believed in her wit took the decision of acting first -the action-backed by attempting to shoot Don, however she had miscalculated and hence she fired an unloaded gun. However John who witnessed such gruesome attempt had to respond -the reaction- and bam bam, he pulled the trigger that killed Amwulika.<br>
Actions and reactions sometimes could not always be  turn by turn issues in certain stories, in other stories, they run so concurrently that you won't even be sure which is the action or which is the reaction. However the most rational thing is to keep the order and avoid placing an obvious reaction first before action. That way the clumsy way of trying to justify a reaction afterwards will not only be clumsy but will drive your story writing more towards telling than showing.<br>
In the next installment we will discuss how to exploit the natural order as a tool to write amazing stories, natural order not only smoothen your stories but also strengthen your plots. The next installment will extensively tell on how to exploit the entirety of cause and effect, and action and reaction to ensure the composure of magical stories always, as these tools are the magical ingredients essential for an outstanding build up in stories. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Abd-afeez Abd-hamid for the museguide team.</p>
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The natural order 2

The natural order 2 This is the second installment to the series of three. The first installment was about cause and effect and the referen...

POLIHISS

It is sad that the polihiss claim to be our friend<div>
But to what end?</div>
<div>
Heartbreaking, is that they daily trade us with a kiss while we hiss.</div>
<div>
In a crime scene they runaway and takeoff their uniforms for criminals to perform</div>
<div>
They extort the masses and brutally assault us like their riffles</div>
<div>
They break the laws with no warrant and even sell their conscience to the highest bidder.</div>
<div>
Who says bail is free then I will hail.</div>
<div>
Who says you can go and complain about a matter without pay?</div>
<div>
Who says the polihiss are intelligent in their ignorance? </div>
<div>
What kind of friend will bring you to this sad end?</div>
<div>
Akobadaba Olorun Majari o!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Specially dedicated to Victor Silas of Q & Q Services, Port Harcourt who have been missing for the past 7months during an official duty and the Polihiss are at it as usual.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬</div>
<div>
#‎SundaySpecial‬ #‎Polihiss‬ #‎InJustihiss‬ #‎LawyersBeHumanEnoughToTheTruthNotJustThePay‬ #‎NoToVictimizationAtWork‬ #‎Nigeria‬</div>
<div>
#‎OurLabourLawsAreToothless‬ #‎Lawlessness‬ #‎NigerianPoliceForce‬ #‎Zone6Calabar‬ #‎VictorSilas‬ #‎QandQServices‬ #‎PortHarcourt‬ #‎NigeriaInfoPH‬ #‎EqualRightsandJustice‬</div>

POLIHISS

It is sad that the polihiss claim to be our friend But to what end? Heartbreaking, is that they daily trade us with a kiss while we hiss....

Eleyele, My hood 2

Eleyele, My hood...<br />
(the good, the bad, the weird)<br />
.<br />
Vol 2.<br />
.<br />
 The street is old, longlife to the street but i grew up to meet up with the street around 1998, then i was 10 years of age. My first memorable experience on the street was the day i was sent on an errand by my grandma, she sent me 'kulikuli' to battle her cassava flakes 'garri' for the afternoon. It was a #20 note and I'm to buy #5 kulikuli, seriously, #5 kulikuli is almost in fifteen pieces, it's a lot for an old woman, probably she's going to share it amongst my siblings and I. Infact, then, #20 can cook an okra soup 'Ila alasepo'. On my way there, two older guys approached me as if they were friends of my unborn elder brother,<br />
"how far now? What's your name? ",they greeted and I responded, one was patting and rubbing my back while the other shaking me vigorously,<br />
"how nice of them" i thought to myself. They left shortly after. On getting to the kulikuli seller, i quickly pick one for testing as i know she will surely remove it from the quantity I'm buying, picked another and another, making three that i picked, she tied the remaining into a small polythene bag for me, i eagerly extended my hand into my embracing pocket, and money was like, "check here, i'm here" i roamed around my multi-pocket short with no avail,<br />
"Where is the money? "a question for an empty answer. The woman skimmed through me head to toe like I'm a standing dumping site, she thought i was pulling tricks, she drew her cane, pulled my sleeves, i shouted and fought to get loose, she's  more powerful then(come on, not now again).<br />
She flogged me like 5 times and collect the already wrapped one with me, i cried home.<br />
 On my way back, i saw those two guys again, they were smiling, i knew what they did and i still could recognize them perfectly even up till date as many of them were still tussling with such an unworthy style of living.<br />
Bitterly i wept on my way home, probably because i was cheated by those goons or being beaten by the kulikuli seller or the awaiting punishment i might received from grandma. On that very day, only Judas could narrate a more sour experience.<br />
 I grow wiser than the day inorder to live up to the street, there are special lessons we learnt from the street, no matter the condition, the street preaches loyalty, mind you, being loyal doesn't necessarily meant you're truthful, you can be loyal to an evil wills, bad habits and weird ideologies.<br />
It thought us to be so steadfast, no condition as ever being permanent.<br />
 Up till our JSS2 days, during Ramadan(muslims' fasting month), after a playfully contented day, we felt so exhausted and the fact that God is never wicked, especially to children, we drunk or let me say sup some reasonable amount of water to hydrate our dehydrated immune. Since food wasn't involved, God can still overlook water, what a believe?. Then a day came, the street gave us an alternative, Sega came around, not many of us are fans of nitendo, Sega entered into our hood and became our food as it captive our minds.<br />
 That was when we substituted our childish sin for Sega, without even knowing that the love of Sega is the root of punishment. The game vendor became our new apostle and his crusade is where you'll see all youths.<br />
 The nemesis that came around with Sega Interactive Superstar Deluxe shall be emphasized in the next episode.<br />
Thanks for following<br />
.<br />
Wizard Calidad<br />
©2016<br />
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Eleyele, My hood 2

Eleyele, My hood... (the good, the bad, the weird) . Vol 2. . The street is old, longlife to the street but i grew up to meet up with ...

The Assist King...

Assist King...<br />
 Yes, they say when things actually fall apart, centres would no more hold, my heart already has fallen and it's not occupying it's former centroid.<br />
 When I say assist King people would think of Mesut Özil of Real Madrid who assisted Cristiano Ronaldo to Ballon D'or with 45goals, so when you're doing similar greater things for someone else who only take the credits like Ronaldo and you Özil with no recognition.<br />
 I have a lot of money, I bought her ferrari while I'm driving Camry LE, she's using BB Porche while I'm using Techo Android, if people should talk about me being a fool, I would say it's love. The last I did and regretted, she said she loves me and want marriage, I said 'okay', and asked to see her parents. We chose a date but she insisted on buying a diamond ring at first, in preparing ahead of our event.<br />
  Believe me. Last Saturday, a faithful brother rushed to my house showing me an invitation card with direction of venue, to my utmost amazement it was my beloved spouse having a wedding with another man. I helplessly rushed down to the venue. I entered and shouted, "Stop this right now, she's my spouse", everyone set their gaze on me surprisingly, and my supposed spouse commented, "Pastor don't mind him, he's only an 'Assist King', my heaven-sent Ozil, everyone bursted into laughter as I fainted. I'm still on my sickbed.<br />
.<br />
wizard calidad<br />
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The Assist King...

Assist King... Yes, they say when things actually fall apart, centres would no more hold, my heart already has fallen and it's not occ...

El Chapo, the legendary druglord 3

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3.<br />
 Conflict with the Tijuana Cartel: 1989–1993<br />
 When Félix Gallardo was arrested, the Tijuana corridor was handed over to the Arellano Félix brothers, Jesús Labra Áviles (alias "El Chuy"), and Javier Caro Payán (alias "El Doctor"), cousin of the former Guadalajara Cartel leader Rafael Caro Quintero. In fears of a coup, however, Caro Payán fled to Canada and was later arrested. Guzmán and the rest of the Sinaloa Cartel leaders consequently grew angry at the Arellano Félix clan about this. In 1989, Guzmán sent Armando López (alias "El Rayo"), one of his most trusted men, to speak with the Arellano Félix clan in Tijuana. Before he had a chance to speak face-to-face with them, López was<br />
killed by Ramón Arellano Félix. The corpse was disposed in the outskirts of the city and the Tijuana Cartel ordered a hit on the remaining members of the López family to prevent future reprisals. That same year, the Arellano Félix brothers sent the Venezuelan drug trafficker Enrique Rafael Clavel Moreno to infiltrate Palma's family and seduce his wife Guadalupe Leija Serrano. After convincing her to withdraw US$7 million from one of Palma's bank accounts in San Diego, California, Clavel beheaded her and sent her head to Palma in a box. It was known as the first beheading linked to the drug trade in Mexico. Two weeks later, Clavel killed Palma's children, Héctor (aged 5) and Nataly (aged 4), by throwing them off a bridge in Venezuela. Palma retaliated by sending his men to kill Clavel while he was in prison. In 1991, Ramón killed another Sinaloa Cartel associate, Rigoberto Campos Salcido (alias "El Rigo"), prompting bigger conflicts with Guzmán. In early 1992, a Tijuana Cartel-affiliated and San Diego-based gang known as Calle Treinta kidnapped six of Guzmán’s men in Tijuana, tortured them to attain information, and then shot them execution-style in the backs of their heads. Their bodies were dumped on the outskirts of the city. Shortly after the attack, a car bomb exploded outside one of Guzmán’s properties in Culiacán. No injuries were reported, but the drug lord became fully aware of the intended message.<br />
Guzmán and Palma struck back against the Arellano Félix brothers (Tijuana Cartel) with nine killings on 3 September 1992 in Iguala; among the dead were lawyers and family members of Félix Gallardo, who was also believed to have orchestrated the attack against Palma's family.<br />
Mexico's Attorney General formed a special unit to look into the killings, but the investigation was called off after the unit found that Guzmán had paid off some of the top police officials in Mexico with $10 million, according to police reports and confessions of former police officers.  In November 1992, gunmen of Arellano Félix attempted to kill Guzmán as he was traveling in a vehicle through the streets of Guadalajara. Ramón and at least four of his henchmen shot at the moving vehicle with AK-47 rifles, but the drug lord managed to escape unharmed. The attack forced Guzmán to leave Guadalajara and live under a false name under fears of future attacks.<br />
He and Palma, however, responded to the assassination attempt in a similar fashion; several days later, on 8 November 1992, a large commando of the Sinaloa Cartel posing as policemen stormed the Christine discothèque in Puerto Vallarta, spotted Ramón and Francisco Javier Arellano Félix, and opened fire at them. The shooting lasted for at least eight minutes, and more than 1,000 rounds were fired by both Guzmán's and Arellano Félix's gunmen. Six people were killed in the shootout, but the Arellano Félix brothers were in the restroom when the raid started and reportedly escaped through an air-conditioning duct before leaving the scene in one of their vehicles. On 9 and 10 December 1992, four alleged associates of Félix<br />
Gallardo were killed. The antagonism between Guzmán's Sinaloa Cartel and the Arellano Félix clan left several more dead and was accompanied by violent acts in the states of Baja California, Sonora, Sinaloa, Durango, Jalisco, Guerrero, Michoacán and Oaxaca.<br />
The war between both groups continued for six more months, yet none of their respective leaders was killed. In mid-1993, the Arellano Félix clan sent their top gunmen on a final mission to<br />
kill Guzmán in Guadalajara, where he moved around frequently to avoid any possible attacks. Having no success, the Tijuana Cartel hitmen decided to return to Baja California on 24 May<br />
1993. As Francisco Javier was at the Guadalajara International Airport booking his flight to Tijuana, informant tips notified him<br />
that Guzmán was at the airport parking lot awaiting a flight to Puerto Vallarta. Having spotted the white Mercury Grand Marquis car where Guzmán was thought to be hiding, about 20 gunmen of the Tijuana Cartel descended from three Jeep-like vehicles and opened fire at around 4:10 p.m. However, the drug lord was inside a green Buick sedan a short distance from the target. Inside the Mercury Grand Marquis was the Cardinal and Archbishop of Guadalajara Juan Jesús Posadas Ocampo, who died at the scene from fourteen gunshot wounds. Six other people, including the cardinal's chauffeur, were caught in the crossfire and killed. Amidst the shootout and confusion, Guzmán escaped in a taxi and headed to one of his safe houses in Bugambilias, a neighborhood 20 minutes away from the airport. News of the death of the cardinal quickly circulated across Mexico and the rest of the world.

El Chapo, the legendary druglord 3

3. Conflict with the Tijuana Cartel: 1989–1993 When Félix Gallardo was arrested, the Tijuana corridor was handed over to the Arellano...

A SMILE LIE LISA'S

A smile like Lisa's Is an expensive jewel seen on many few Running tumbling down Hot liquid balls behind every smile Poison is somew...

Ajé...

Ajé...<br />
....................<br />
With a bleary eye<br />
you can see a weary mile<br />
evil may thread on wisdom aisle,<br />
Who cares? Not me, myself and I.<br />
Ill-wills only distressed me and give me bile<br />
borrow me wisdom for my morrow to smile<br />
my yester-banes still are on the pile<br />
imbibed, revived, revised, in a file.<br />
Money they say makes the globe whirl,<br />
tell it to come my way more than awhile,<br />
in fold at my feet flows like Egypt and Nile,<br />
one that any coherent sewage of life won't defiles,<br />
but now in my path it's departing, not coming, why?<br />
Apart from a walk-through in my apartment, it hasn't arrived.<br />
Let it shine, let it rain, let it come into my life.<br />
Then Devil visited, pledged to raise my height,<br />
with an earsplitting voice, his gob reeks vile.<br />
If it should pull me in; fire is nigh,<br />
if I let go this chance; I may go senile,<br />
how to feed my hunger?; A litany to be wise,<br />
I plan to woo on, till 'Ajé' chooses me as wife,<br />
Evil and down line wager, they cast a die,<br />
I'll fail has the largest stake, funeral in pyre,<br />
they'd suspire sadly, reproach while they sigh,<br />
As I stitch once and save nine.<br />
...<br />
Wizard Calidad<br />
#BIS<br />
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Ajé...

Ajé... .................... With a bleary eye you can see a weary mile evil may thread on wisdom aisle, Who cares? Not me, myself and I...

BREAD WINNERS

Littering the streets are bread winners Sent out like Jehovah witness preachers To win our pockets for their thirst. Some of them are l...

It's my life....

<div>
It's my life...</div>
<div>
...</div>
<div>
The reasons </div>
<div>
why so many </div>
<div>
gave up on me </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The feelings </div>
<div>
that gathers aplenty</div>
<div>
have manifested in me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Their meetings</div>
<div>
seems like they worry</div>
<div>
but none understood me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My biddings</div>
<div>
like tides against ferry,</div>
<div>
makes them thought it's nil</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I'm chilling,</div>
<div>
in disguise I merry</div>
<div>
in dreams I'm served meals</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He said I'm dicing </div>
<div>
celebrating in mediocrity</div>
<div>
'a nuisance', were I mealed</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They keep slaying</div>
<div>
on my neck like Jerry</div>
<div>
Hey Tom!, unknowingly you're killing me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Devil smiling </div>
<div>
for you to biff my gaze, make it bleary</div>
<div>
Are you rich enough for my ill-bill?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So start giving </div>
<div>
in cash, kinds, provide abundantly,</div>
<div>
please provide for all my needs</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or start ignoring </div>
<div>
If you can't make me happy </div>
<div>
Atleast, you can't give what you lack for real</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
God willing</div>
<div>
a must to be wealthy </div>
<div>
It's never a multi choice for me </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But towards achieving </div>
<div>
Is all this effort I pull'd, seems weary?</div>
<div>
It's still a means, though so mean.</div>
<div>
.</div>
<div>
wizard calidad™</div>
<div>
#BIS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>

It's my life....

It's my life... ... The reasons why so many gave up on me The feelings that gathers aplenty have manifested in me ...

Mosquitoes; Dear Rats

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">He's an Iron man indeed as our proboscis couldn't pierce his leader-like skin, I</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">'ve severally used my diamond studded proboscis</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvxr0hDBTYArS-RvsgHwMDJou3FA7TDFALRUm3-wVhyphenhyphenwF0sH4G0uhyQLbkM9OfeT1UV9heywrm8JTHZHeUj7LfW2AHzX_V6Zq09W60JGrU9yDYzV1T13RTOuyheKtmMgpg3uoDj0TqNEd/s1600/mosquito-illustration_360x286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvxr0hDBTYArS-RvsgHwMDJou3FA7TDFALRUm3-wVhyphenhyphenwF0sH4G0uhyQLbkM9OfeT1UV9heywrm8JTHZHeUj7LfW2AHzX_V6Zq09W60JGrU9yDYzV1T13RTOuyheKtmMgpg3uoDj0TqNEd/s320/mosquito-illustration_360x286.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
yet his body won't tear, "he's of iron claddings I think", a senior mosquito will say, well I never gave up, i am the leader of the mosquitoes vanguard, I called my executives, yes, 'executives',  we're those that sucks without whining, so it will be difficult for anyone to applaud our lives out of our body, to us, 'applause' is never a compliment, it's a term we used for death colleagues.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">"I have a way of sucking out blood out of that Man's Vein, I have a plan", many hissed in 'mosquitian', "mtchewwwnnn", it's like they saw no wayforward in my supposed plan, without a bit of discouragement, i progressed, "I plan to sought for the king of Parasitic World's help, the big Rat, that's the name we call him, he lives in a cranny below the man's kitchen-store wall with his family, he would be eager to help because of the recent loss of three of his sons to the man's trap". I remember that day, i almost laughed seeing someone in anguish because of the funny scene, it's like a gum on a thick paper, a rat stuck to it, a brother quickly rushed to help, he tried to pull the brother out of the sticky paper till himself fell on the same paper and also got stucked. Another brother that always claim to be very strong tried out of stupidity to pull both out of trap at the same time, that was the funniest of the scene as he got his chest stucked and cried out like a baby chick, we laughed and the blood we managed to suck overnight spilled out of our bellies only to disperse inside a cup of water, that was when our happiness got transformed to sadness like a shit in breakfast as we dispatched with frowned countenances.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">Three days later, we were in front of 'Big Rat', he was eager to help, the plan was to eat the man's foot while sleeping, to make it easy, the job on our part is to suck oil and honey from the kitchen's cabinet and smeared it over the man's foot so as to make it easier for the rat to eat the skin and expose his blood cells for us to suck. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">On our mission, unfortunately, three of us were applauded (you remember I said to applause is to die) but we succeeded in the mission. We retreated for hours in agog for good news from the 'Big Rat'. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">Three hours passed with no news so we set out to check out ourselves only to find the 'Big Rat's' dead body lying helplessly. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">..Wizard Calidad™..</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: DroidSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 18px;">©2015</span>

Mosquitoes; Dear Rats

He's an Iron man indeed as our proboscis couldn't pierce his leader-like skin, I 've severally used my diamond studded probosc...

THE FIRE IN ME

For Soweto<div>
My blood spilled and splashed</div>
<div>
Littering our streets and its curves.</div>
<div>
Thousands of my kind stood up</div>
<div>
Radically against these devilish kind,</div>
<div>
Whose claws were certified to scratch</div>
<div>
Every pigment called black off our flesh.</div>
<div>
In their dungeon, our dwellings</div>
<div>
And they wouldn't let go</div>
<div>
Unless I accept their evil mark.</div>
<div>
But for freedom, sweet freedom</div>
<div>
Many years looked like few days</div>
<div>
Until the waters were freely drawn</div>
<div>
Then, I drank from freedom streams.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Specially Dedicated to Late Dr. Nelson Mandela "Mandiba", Freedom fighter and Ex-President of South Africa.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬</div>
<div>
#‎GOAL‬ #‎FridaySpecial‬ #‎NelsonMandela‬ #‎Mandiba‬ #‎Soweto‬ #‎SouthAfrica‬ #‎Africa‬</div>
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THE FIRE IN ME

For Soweto My blood spilled and splashed Littering our streets and its curves. Thousands of my kind stood up Radically against these ...

On The Deadly Ground......

On The Deadly Ground...<br />
...<br />
 So damaged, shouldn't we retreat?<br />
With conjoint'd blood of kiths and I, let's ink it,<br />
I wont rest, still with little touch of life in me,<br />
let's wield our quill before their spiking hilts,<br />
their Persian shant subdue all of our greece.<br />
Against their steel troops our striking blades were so weak,<br />
their fleets would smear our blood on their feets,<br />
some might drink from it, as they've won our grits,<br />
it's too many injured men, we succumb to defeat.<br />
You've won! The victory is yours, we can see,<br />
you welled up well our folks blood, out of deceit,<br />
rearguard we shall safeguard our retreat,<br />
as out of life, many a kith and kin had been dismissed.<br />
....<br />
Out of our throats they got blood spilled,<br />
with brazen swords from sinful coats they killed,<br />
left our kins in cold blood, they spare not our childe,<br />
reds over land, reds on wound'd parts, we're so drilled,<br />
many bleeds, chilly bloods flowing down our street,<br />
the fort with which we multiply forces was levelled to a field,<br />
our very own blood had our sand to fill-<br />
and trails of its sorrowful path accompanied we that lived-<br />
as we trampled on formed bleeds back to our siege.<br />
Dearest home keepers' griev'd on seeing the evil treaty,<br />
they fear'd as it haul'd their fold to thrill,<br />
their habitual faith wont duly oblige to the ill deal.<br />
Staying hither, their ilks envisaged not what we strifed with<br />
when our brethens gore rugged the soil as it sinked so deep.<br />
..<br />
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wizard calidad<br />
#BIS

On The Deadly Ground......

On The Deadly Ground... ... So damaged, shouldn't we retreat? With conjoint'd blood of kiths and I, let's ink it, I wont re...

El Chapo, the villain2

El Chapo; The Villain 2<br />
..<br />
El Chapo Initial stages in organized crime....<br />
..<br />
During the 1980s, the leading crime syndicate in Mexico was the Guadalajara Cartel, which was headed by Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo (alias "El Padrino" ["the Godfather"]), Rafael Caro Quintero, Ernesto Fonseca Carrillo (alias "Don Neto"), Juan José Esparragoza Moreno ( alias "El Azul" ["the Blue One"]) and others. In the 1970s, Guzmán first worked for the drug lord Héctor "El Güero" Palma by transporting drugs and overseeing their shipments from the Sierra Madre region to urban areas near the U.S.-Mexico border by aircraft. Since his initial steps in organized crime, Guzmán was ambitious and regularly pressed on his superiors to allow him to increase the share of narcotics that were smuggled across the border. The drug lord also favored a pragmatic and serious approach when doing business; if any of his drug shipments were not on time, Guzmán would simply kill the smuggler himself by shooting him in the head. Those around<br />
him learned that cheating him or going with other competitors even if they offered better prices was inconvenient. The leaders of the Guadalajara Cartel liked Guzmán's business acumen, and in the early 1980s, they introduced him to Félix Gallardo, one<br />
of the major drug lords in Mexico at that time. Guzmán first worked as a chauffeur for Félix Gallardo before he put him in charge of logistics, where Guzmán coordinated drug shipments from Colombia to Mexico by land, air, and sea.<br />
Palma, on the other hand, made sure the deliveries arrived to consumers in the United States. Guzmán soon earned enough standing and began working for Félix Gallardo directly.<br />
Throughout most of the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Mexican drug traffickers were middlemen for the Colombian drug trafficking groups, and would simply move the drugs through<br />
the U.S.-Mexico border and receive a fee for each kilogram.<br />
Mexico, however, remained a secondary route for the Colombians, given that most of the drugs trafficked by their cartels were smuggled through the Caribbean and the Florida corridor. Félix Gallardo was the leading drug baron in Mexico and friend of Juan Ramón Matta-Ballesteros, but his operations were still limited by his counterparts in South America. In the mid-1980s, however, the U.S. government increased law enforcement surveillance and put pressure on the<br />
Medellín and Cali Cartels by effectively reducing the drug trafficking operations in the Caribbean corridor. Realizing it was more profitable to hand over the operations to their Mexican counterparts, the Colombian cartels gave Félix Gallardo more<br />
control over their drug shipments. This power shift<br />
gave the Mexican organized crime groups more leverage over their Central American and South American counterparts.<br />
During the 1980s, however, the Drug Enforcement<br />
Administration (DEA) was conducting undercover groundwork in Mexico, where several of its agents worked as informants.<br />
One DEA agent, Enrique Camarena Salazar, was working as an informant and grew close to many top drug barons, including<br />
Félix Gallardo. In November 1984, the Mexican military acting on the intelligence information provided by Camarena raided a large marijuana plantation owned by the Guadalajara Cartel and known as "Rancho Búfalo". Angered by the suspected betrayal, Félix Gallardo and his men sought revenge by kidnapping, torturing, and killing the DEA agent in February 1985. Guzmán's life changed that day, according to federal agents of the DEA; the drug lord took advantage of the internal crisis to gain ground within the cartel and take over more drug trafficking operations. The death of Camarena outraged Washington, and Mexico responded by carrying out a massive manhunt to arrest those involved in the incident. In 1989, Félix Gallardo was arrested; while in prison and through a number of envoys, the drug lord called for a summit in Acapulco, Guerrero. In the conclave, Guzmán and others discussed the future of Mexico's drug trafficking and agreed to<br />
divide the territories previously owned by the Guadalajara Cartel.<br />
The Arellano Félix brothers formed the Tijuana Cartel, which controlled the Tijuana corridor and parts of Baja California; in Chihuahua state, a group controlled by Carrillo Fuentes family formed the Juárez Cartel; and the remaining faction left to Sinaloa and the Pacific Coast and formed the Sinaloa Cartel under the traffickers Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada, Palma, and Guzmán.     Guzmán was specifically incharge of the drug corridors of Tecate, Baja California,and Mexicali and San Luis Río Colorado, two border crossings<br />
that connect the states of Sonora and Baja California with the U.S. states of Arizona and California. When Félix Gallardo was arrested, Guzmán reportedly lived in Guadalajara , Jalisco for some time. One of his other centers of operation, however, was in the border city of Agua Prieta, Sonora, where he coordinated drug trafficking activities more closely. The drug lord had dozens of properties in various parts of the country. People he trusted purchased the properties for him and registered them under false names. Most of them were located in residential neighborhoods and served as stash houses for drugs, weapons, and cash. Guzmán also owned several ranches across Mexico, but most of them were located in the states of Sinaloa, Durango, Chihuahua, and Sonora, where locals working for the drug lord grew opium and marijuana.<br />
The first time Guzmán was detected by U.S. authorities for his involvement in organized crime was in 1987, when several protected witnesses testified in a U.S. court that the drug lord was in fact heading the Sinaloa Cartel. An indictment issued in the state of Arizona alleged that Guzmán had coordinated the shipment of 4,600 pounds (roughly 2 085 kg) of cannabis and 10,504 pounds (roughly 4 765 kg) of cocaine from 19 October 1987 to 18 May 1990, and had received roughly US $1.5 million in drug proceeds that were shipped back to his home state. Another indictment alleged that Guzmán earned US $100,000 for trafficking 35 tons (roughly 31.8 t) of cocaine and an unspecified amount of marijuana in a period of three years. In the border areas between Tecate and San Luis Río Colorado, Guzmán ordered his men to traffic most of the drugs overland, but also through a few aircraft. By using the so-called piecemeal strategy, in which traffickers kept drug quantities relatively low, risks were reduced. The drug lord also pioneered the use of sophisticated underground tunnels to move drugs across the border and into the United States. Aside from pioneering the tunnels, Palma and Guzmán packed cocaine into chili pepper cans under the brand Comadre before they were shipped to the U.S. by train. In return, the drug lords were paid through large suitcases filled with millions of dollars in cash. These suitcases were flown from the U.S. to Mexico City, where corrupt customs agents at the airport made sure the deliveries were not inspected. Large sums of that money were reportedly used as bribes for members of the Attorney General's Office.<br />
....<br />
wizard calidad's research<br />
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El Chapo, the villain2

El Chapo; The Villain 2 .. El Chapo Initial stages in organized crime.... .. During the 1980s, the leading crime syndicate in Mexico was...

MAN OF SORROW

MAN OF SORROW<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Man of sorrow</div>
<div>
Look through the window</div>
<div>
There is a brighter tomorrow</div>
<div>
Even though the harshness of this life gets to your marrow</div>
<div>
Tomorrows joy always wipes out today's sorrow</div>
<div>
Though the forces of impossibility may hover and rover like a sparrow</div>
<div>
Look through the window</div>
<div>
There is a brighter tomorrow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬</div>
<div>
#‎GOAL‬ #‎ThursdaySpecial‬ #‎ManOfSorrow‬ #‎DontGiveUp‬ #‎Poetry‬</div>
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MAN OF SORROW

MAN OF SORROW Man of sorrow Look through the window There is a brighter tomorrow Even though the harshness of this life gets to you...

Good and Right.... Are you still having a conflicting mind about what is good and what's right....

Good and Right<br />
...<br />
 It's good and so right<br />
I feel good as I always feel right<br />
do you feel bad that I'm good<br />
or you think I'm wrong saying I'm right.<br />
Many a time,<br />
the good we know are somehow bad<br />
and what we think are right<br />
were actually the wrong things<br />
but it's not always confusing<br />
the confused one is the direct mixing<br />
between what is good and what is right.<br />
If it's not so good it's not rightful<br />
or if it's not okay it's not so good.<br />
<br />
 Mamy Suah was an activist<br />
a lady warrior, an amazon<br />
when sun was bright in the day<br />
she worked as a contract maid<br />
likewise at night, her skills were amazing<br />
she go for the rich and loot their riches<br />
and gift to the poor, the downtroded lot.<br />
The poor praises her as their lord<br />
and the rich will at all cost subject her to law wrath.<br />
They're dying to see the face<br />
being concealed under the evil's veil<br />
but nay, they wouldn't dare, they failed<br />
consistently until a day,<br />
when a bullet on her shoulder grazed.<br />
Morning came,<br />
they had expected a wounded gay<br />
overlooking the power of a gal as frail.<br />
<br />
Therefore,<br />
her service was strifing for the right<br />
of the poor all in a bad way<br />
in the process of the fight<br />
she would've wounded many a saint<br />
seeming innocent and the guilty<br />
as it got all bad in war<br />
what if a knife dashed her way<br />
thrown by a kid striving for longer days<br />
she'll absolutely defends her prowess<br />
or what you might call martial integrity.<br />
Many will call her bad,<br />
she stole, she fought, bad habits<br />
eventually, we can say<br />
she was right but not good<br />
a mentee of Robin Hood.<br />
<br />
 Senator John Bull third tenure in the house<br />
our dry constituency will grow no more senators<br />
as we continue watering SJB for another term<br />
his seed were pure, they yielded nutrients and not shaft<br />
we're satisfied, we want no more plants.<br />
SJB was a largeese they'll say<br />
as if no more generous people in our days<br />
he do come once in a month, and money he shall spray<br />
elegantly out of his compressor engined car<br />
arise always above the roof to sit on the panel<br />
and in bales sprayed currencies, in dollars and heavy nairas.<br />
<br />
 Everyone would hail him<br />
fighting our way to grab some money<br />
roads he wont do, electricity is scary<br />
water supply has been a shortage too<br />
faculties of facilities lack working tools<br />
how in life would our constituency move<br />
if your money would feed our day hunger<br />
will it survived we and our offsprings to come by?.<br />
A charity by you today<br />
can't even last tomorrow's wake<br />
you did nice and fine; they say<br />
but your attitude may mar our way<br />
trying to make a day, when so early we braced.<br />
<br />
SJB did slaughtered our rights<br />
wittingly with power, he sanded our rice<br />
many blindly won't see, they're still in their nights<br />
we all own the dough for our helm to rise<br />
our certificate are worthless as future seems blight<br />
yet with potential we struggle to see the light<br />
oh! A must my life be painted in bright<br />
SJB deceives us with white flashes of lies<br />
though to many he was good but was never right.<br />
...<br />
wizard calidad<br />
#BIS<br />
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Good and Right.... Are you still having a conflicting mind about what is good and what's right....

Good and Right ... It's good and so right I feel good as I always feel right do you feel bad that I'm good or you think I'...

Writers' muse entry: The natural order in stories 1

<p dir="ltr">The natural order in stories </p>
<p dir="ltr">The natural order, is the expected course and order of events in your story. Defining natural order might seem unwarranted as the words in it are self explanatory enough, however its depth and essence in our stories need further analysis as it is an essential tool needed to forge the best of creative pieces. This article will be in series of 3. Today,  I'll be touching cause and effect as an element of natural order. <br>
The words cause and effect are self explanatory enough, and hence explain that the best order of events is for causes to occur before their effects or causes and effects to alternate in successions. To be more precise I will take us into a true story world. In our various stories, we build up our stories from various events that eventually lead to a supreme after event, often manifested in the story climax, in such cases a simple natural order is observed and often readers finds this very appealing to their tastes.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I will be using a flash story from the on going blackout7 as a reference. The story is titled "bam bam". I will be using this story as it is a very good example of how natural order can be exploited perfectly as will later be discussed in the third part of this series. Here is John Jako flash:</p>
<p dir="ltr">"Anwulika Chukwu was a magnet. A thing that attracts things. From the moment she entered Sobi Barracks, all the soldiers gravitated towards her. But she was a north pole and they were all north poles too. There wasonly one south pole in Sobi. He was the man she had come for. The man she had been sent to kill. His name was Don.</p>
<p dir="ltr">***</p>
<p dir="ltr">Don was a watchman. A man who looked out for danger to protect others. But when a fair lady in army uniform walked through the door of the officers’ mess, he saw no danger, only full pink lips and supple breasts. His phallus sent a message to his heart. His heart relayed it to his brain. His brain buzzed like an alarm. He stood up from his chair and started towards her. Pure animal instinct. By the time he got to where she was seated alone, he was breathing heavily. The rate of his heart beat had tripled. He had never believed in love, only in iron and pain. But here he was, his heart melting like jelly. My name is Don, he said.</p>
<p dir="ltr">***</p>
<p dir="ltr">She played him for weeks, like a soccer ball. It had to be that way, even though he had confessed his love within the first week. She had to wait for the perfect moment. The perfect moment came on the fifth week, when he invited her for a date outside the barracks. He said they were going to see a movie. She knew they would end up in a motel. She was right. As always.</p>
<p dir="ltr">***</p>
<p dir="ltr">At the cinema, she bought a hotdog. He bought bars of candy. While they ate in front of the big screen, her head dropped on his shoulder. Her hair was under his nose. She smelt good. He put his hands around her. She leaned closer. He was in heaven. He felt the love, the chemistry. They ended up in a motel.</p>
<p dir="ltr">***</p>
<p dir="ltr">She didn’t bring a gun. It was too risky. But she didn’t have to. Inside the rented room, he brought out a gun and loaded it. He was quick, but she saw the rectangular magazine slipping into the base of the gun. Never be taken by surprise, he said. She smiled. He dropped the gun on the table and returned to her. They started to kiss and his erection started to probe her thighs. She took control and pushed him on the bed. He fell flat and easy, with a smile of ecstasy etched on his face. Then she turned around, picked up the gun, and pointed it straight to his head. No epilogues. Click. Click. But there was no report.</p>
<p dir="ltr">***</p>
<p dir="ltr">The rectangular magazine was not a magazine, but one of the candy bars he had picked up at the cinema. From behind his waist, he produced his pistol. No epilogues. No Never-Be-Taken-By-Surprise speech. With great grief clotting his heart, he aimed for her goddamn forehead. Bam Bam."</p>
<p dir="ltr">The highlight events of this story are:<br>
1) The visit to Don in the Barack.<br>
2) The relationship that ensued the meeting<br>
3) The visit to the motel<br>
4)  The romance in the motel<br>
5)  The disappointing attempt by Chukwu<br>
6)   Chukwu's death. <br>
The climax of the story is the death of Chukwu, this also happened to be the main effect. Chukwu died because she missed her attempt to kill Don. Though right from the onset, event 5 was also the cause of the events 1-4. However event 5 was not an initial event but a motive. So motive is not an event based cause but an intention based one. Intermittently, events 1-4 are the minor effects of the motive cause (5), however events 1-4 is a progression of cause and effect on themselves. <br>
I don't intend confusion here, however motive cause which is a master effect will have an influence as a drive on whatever other events happen in the story. However the individual events driven by the motive would have their own individual cause and effect. Though Chukwu's cause motive was to kill Don, which was what led to the visit and hence sparked love, however the advent of love was a progression from the main effect of the motive which is the visit. Hence the visit is the main cause of the event of the affair between the two pair. The relationship is the event that caused the visit to the motel which is it's direct effect. Then the visit to the motel caused it's direct effect which is the motive event, which later caused  the final event of Chukwu's death. However if we are to summarize the story in one cause and event. <br>
The motive cause is the main cause and the climax event is the main effect. In as much as events are very vital to the natural order of stories, emotions and motives are as much important as well. A motive/emotion could change the status of an initial cause event to effect because it has been altered by emotion and might not stand without such emotional drive, this set a difference between an ambitious business man and a non-ambitious one as one ambition might be the cause of his sucess and the other's success would have other cause events, emotions or factors. <br>
However a writer should avoid the unnatural order of  placing effects before cause and then going through the clumsy premise of stating the cause, though sometimes this might create a special effect of lingering mystery, especially in crimes however too much of such unnatural order will get your story too confusing to be appealing to reader's taste. <br>
Until I share the next installment.<br>
Thank you for reading.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Abd-afeez Abd-hamid for the museguide team.</p>
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Writers' muse entry: The natural order in stories 1

The natural order in stories The natural order, is the expected course and order of events in your story. Defining natural order might seem...

Poets corner entry: BRIDGE

There is a space in my heart<div>
Void and cold</div>
<div>
It needs a hand to hold </div>
<div>
And not a time to scold</div>
<div>
With your love so sweet</div>
<div>
Keeping me warm from cold feet</div>
<div>
What else can I ask for?</div>
<div>
Hugs and kisses, </div>
<div>
A loving-forgiving heart</div>
<div>
Maybe sexual healing,</div>
<div>
A way to deal with this feeling</div>
<div>
The space is all yours to bridge.</div>
<div>
If I ever told a lie</div>
<div>
That lie was meant to hold you so close</div>
<div>
Never to loose you now that I've found you.</div>
<div>
And if I tell all the truth it is to know</div>
<div>
I'll loose you and no bridge will ever bridge this space between.</div>
<div>
Bridge this space, a hole in my heart</div>
<div>
An imperfect me, falling in love with you </div>
<div>
I seek you with my heart, the door to my soul</div>
<div>
And that's all that matters to bridge this space between.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature</div>
<div>
#GOAL #WednesdaySpecial #Bridge #ILoveYouBridge #Poetry</div>
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Poets corner entry: BRIDGE

There is a space in my heart Void and cold It needs a hand to hold And not a time to scold With your love so sweet Keeping me warm...

my love story

My love story.<br />
.<br />
 When your dear's goalpost is on fire<br />
you won't dare be a brother's keeper<br />
a feeling atimes could lift your soul higher<br />
when happiness would outscale the joy metre<br />
love; the only thing that can develop the heart shire<br />
and make sweet the pain that seems sore and sour<br />
evade; love might escape you, hang you on wire<br />
abandoned you as Jesus was denied by Peter.<br />
yet don't on love gave up, don't retire<br />
pick yourself up, never put your heart asunder.<br />
Let's rekindle the lost love, let's raised on a pier<br />
let's before our gaze see love radiates together<br />
.<br />
 I have a story to tell<br />
of how well I never on love relent<br />
uphold it like the nation's anthem pledged<br />
and protect it like sweats in birds fledge<br />
I really swallowed a big morsel of my pride<br />
as i only see her in India Sari, as my bride<br />
but love is neither stupid nor blind<br />
just only cupid decided to wear a bind<br />
her wings soared above her perfect shoulder<br />
the soaring ego in mountain, i need a boulder<br />
to deflate what's left of her esteem<br />
and from their get her priding soul redeemed.<br />
..<br />
 Would she learn?, this lesson?<br />
if she would.; it's purely a blessing<br />
but her demeanor iterates that boring tone<br />
as it screeches my ears, it's going out of my playlist alone.<br />
Atimes I wonder why,<br />
so many of their ilk promises and off they shy<br />
one that pledged to appear all day in my dream<br />
is the same person who wouldn't allow me sleep.<br />
You're out of my playlist<br />
your music now seems gaulish<br />
as I'm not gonna wander again in your heart<br />
it consists no more lovely rats that could feed my cat<br />
I drank and persevered with droplets of time,<br />
already it has formed ocean of patience in me<br />
constipated my tommy as my immune didst grieved<br />
The sour salt might even immure my belief.<br />
...<br />
wizard calidad<br />
#BIS<br />
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my love story

My love story. . When your dear's goalpost is on fire you won't dare be a brother's keeper a feeling atimes could lift your...

Eleyele, My hood

Eleyele, My hood...<br />
(the good, the bad, the weird)<br />
.<br />
Vol 1.<br />
....<br />
 Eleyele, a direct translation means oni-eyele, the owners of pidgeon, it's a renowned geographical location in the city of Ibadan, Oyo State. Why the name? Let's leave that particular story for the archaelogist, many a bloke like me just one day wake up to our senses and find ourselves dwelling in this community. Well, I'll describe that blessed place for you in brief.<br />
 It's a geographical area that subtend towards the outskirt of Ibadan, it is somhow circular and embedded with a handful of wonders. Eleyele is bigger than many towns, not only in Oyo but in Nigeria and if it wont be an overstatement i would've said it's worthy to be a state on her own. Ask me why? There are four federal institutions in Eleyele, one state polythecnic and over hundred secondary and primary schools, both private and government owned. Now, talking about localization of industry, Eleyele can promised you many things which I'm only going to mention few, the first headquarters of Fan Milk plc Nigeria is in Eleyele, the headquarters of Nigermatch Nigeria is there.<br />
 If you're all about tourist attraction, I'll tell you that the historic Oke Ibadan during the reign of our first forefather, Lagelu, was situated here in Eleyele and there is enough room for sightseeing by the riverside.<br />
 Eleyele river is enough to supply both electricity and water for the whole town in abundance, which can actually serve well as a means of attraction for foreign investors. Our land had gone elastic as they expanded in length, breadth and width to give birth to a new geographical area called Ologuneru, which is still expanding fast. To cut the accolades short, Eleyele is nothing but blessed.<br />
 It's all well and good until your potential boss heard you hail from Eleyele, he must redo a background check on you because the good reputation of our condo had dashed into thin air to give room for street orientation. Now, the street had forced on our tongue its anthem, of guys gone gaga as gals gone wild, here, when nothing seems to go right, even right will turn left. As we all know, the first orientation we received was go to school and study hard, so that we can live a secured life, but the street taught us otherwise as it had many examples to show unlike our parents who would talk and leave the rest to God. So many great brothers are leading by examples. Brothers are ammasing affluence, many cool dough majorly through street means even our parents can't spend as much as they do. Big brothers in the hood were riding on big cars and many responsible Dads' wouldn't change the same car in a decade.<br />
Then who should we mentor?. The question will be answered right in your mind after the whole episode, why the hood is good, bad and equally weird.<br />
..<br />
Thanks<br />
Watch out for episode 2 next week<br />
wizard calidad<br />
museguide<br />
©2016<br />
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Eleyele, My hood

Eleyele, My hood... (the good, the bad, the weird) . Vol 1. .... Eleyele, a direct translation means oni-eyele, the owners of pidgeon,...

RISE AND FALL

They once laughed at my fall<br />
And the hope to rise again was...hmm!<br />
Be not envious of my rise<br />
I have fallen too many times to rise again, the flowery me!<br />
The rise of a man should make him small<br />
Small before all, that they say nothing but small.<br />
Women, I love them all<br />
Tall, short, fat, skinny, white, black and brown.<br />
They watch you rise and fall, till your labors of pleasurable sweat on them is gone!<br />
Hearts are not toys, be careful how you play!<br />
The day you play with a broken heart<br />
Your rise will surely fall to rise no more, the friend of the dust!<br />
<br />
#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature<br />
#GOAL #TuesdaySpecial #RiseandFall #DoNotUnderestimateTheStrengthOfAWoman #MayGodNeverAllowUsToSeeOurBacksWithoutAMirror #HumanBees #HumanBeast #Poetry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGK4Kuy-iWaIK9FUDrUZMC4riSv6k2qJPJbAmDJufJPtyDBJFnmsLAUoz-4LgjF-uEhzrDmb6fAPBvGBYS78BNonzbnkiddCgGBBy8vV_Xkng8Y4xLAlhYAryzrUMwimozjNxf_3brl2c/s1600/20160121024108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGK4Kuy-iWaIK9FUDrUZMC4riSv6k2qJPJbAmDJufJPtyDBJFnmsLAUoz-4LgjF-uEhzrDmb6fAPBvGBYS78BNonzbnkiddCgGBBy8vV_Xkng8Y4xLAlhYAryzrUMwimozjNxf_3brl2c/s640/20160121024108.jpg"> </a> </div>

RISE AND FALL

They once laughed at my fall And the hope to rise again was...hmm! Be not envious of my rise I have fallen too many times to rise again, ...

El Chapo, the masterminder

.<br />
"I know the Villain, El Chapo"<br />
Series 1<br />
.<br />
 Such a statement can get you arrested and detained under maximum security at DEA. El Chapo is a man an innocent-you wont like to relate with, a pious-you wont like to be fathered by though he had atleast eleven children, a father you might consider disowning or untagging his name from your good name, though, a rebellious-you, a drugaddicted-you, an illmannered-you will so much fall inlove with (a mentor for you criminals). A man of ill-integrity, yes, he has escaped prison twice. Hero or Villain?.<br />
<br />
Joaquín Archivaldo Guzmán Loera was born into a poor family in the rural community of La Tuna, Badiraguato, Sinaloa, Mexico. Sources disagree on the date of his birth, with some stating he was born on 25 December 1954, while others report he was born on 4 April 1957. His parents were Emilio Guzmán Bustillos and María Consuelo Loera Pérez. His paternal grandparents were Juan Guzmán and Otilia Bustillos, and his maternal grandparents were Ovidio Loera Cobret and Pomposa Pérez Uriarte. For many generations, his family lived and died at La Tuna. His father was officially a cattle rancher, as were most in the area where Guzmán grew up; according to some sources, however, he may have possibly also been a gomero, a Sinaloan word for opium poppy<br />
farmer. Guzmán has two younger sisters, Armida and Bernarda, and four younger brothers: Miguel Ángel, Aureliano, Arturo and Emilio. He had three unnamed older brothers who reportedly died of natural causes when he was very young.<br />
Few details are known of Guzmán's upbringing. As a child, Guzmán sold oranges, and dropped out of school in third grade to work with his father. Guzmán was regularly beaten and sometimes fled to his maternal grandmother's house to escape such treatment. However, when he was home, Guzmán stood up to his father to protect his younger siblings from being beaten.<br />
 It is possible that Guzmán incurred his father’s wrath for trying to stop him from beating them. His mother, however, was the "foundation of [his] emotional support". As the nearest school to his home was about 60 mi (100 km) away, Guzmán was taught by traveling teachers during his early years, just like the rest of his brothers. The teachers stayed for a few months before moving to other areas. With few opportunities for employment in his hometown, he turned to the cultivation of opium poppy, a common practice among local residents. During harvest season, Guzmán and his brothers hiked the hills of Badiraguato to cut the bud of the poppy.<br />
 Once the plant was stacked in kilos, his father sold the harvest to other suppliers in Culiacán and Guamúchil. He sold marijuana at commercial centers near the area while accompanied by Guzmán. His father spent most of the profits on liquor and women and often returned home with no money. Tired of his mismanagement, Guzmán, at the age of 15, cultivated his own marijuana plantation with four distant cousins (Arturo, Alfredo, Carlos, and Héctor), who lived nearby. With his first marijuana productions, Guzmán supported his family financially.<br />
When he was a teenager, however, his father kicked him out of his house, and he went to live with his grandfather. It was during his adolescence that Guzmán earned the nickname El Chapo, Mexican slang for "Shorty", because he's short with height 1.68m 5ft 6in stature.<br />
Though most people in Badiraguato worked in the poppy fields of the Sierra Madre Occidental throughout most of their lives, Guzmán left his hometown in search of greater opportunities; through his uncle Pedro Avilés Pérez, one of the pioneers of Mexican drug trafficking, he left Badiraguato in his 20s and joined organized crime.<br />
 He was the Mexican drug lord who heads the Sinaloa Cartel, a criminal organization named after the Mexican Pacific coast state of Sinaloa.<br />
 He became Mexico's top drug kingpin in 2003 after the arrest of his rival Osiel Cárdenas of the Gulf Cartel, and is considered the "most powerful drug trafficker in the world" by the United States Department of the Treasury.<br />
Each year from 2009 to 2011 Forbes magazine ranked Guzmán as one of the most powerful people in the world, ranking 41st, 60th and 55th respectively. He was thus the second most powerful man in Mexico, after Carlos Slim.<br />
He was named as the 10th richest man in Mexico (1,140th in the world) in 2011, with a net worth of roughly US$ 1 billion.<br />
 The magazine also calls him the "biggest drug lord of all time", and the US Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) estimates he has surpassed the influence and reach of Pablo Escobar, and now considers him "the godfather of the drug world". In 2013, the Chicago Crime Commission<br />
named Guzmán "Public Enemy Number One" for the influence of his criminal network in Chicago, though there is no evidence that Guzmán has ever been in that city. The last person to receive such notoriety was Al Capone in 1930.<br />
 Guzmán's Sinaloa Cartel transports multi-ton cocaine shipments from Colombia through Mexico to the United States, the world's top consumer, and has distribution cells throughout the U.S.<br />
The organization has also been involved in the production, smuggling and distribution of Mexican methamphetamine, marijuana, ecstasy and heroin across both North America and Europe.<br />
At the time of his 2014 arrest, Guzmán exported more drugs to the United States than anyone else, more than 500 tons of cocaine in the USA alone.<br />
Guzmán was captured in 1993 in Guatemala, extradited and sentenced to 20 years in prison in Mexico for murder and drug trafficking. After bribing prison guards, he was able to escape from a federal maximum-security prison in 2001.  He was wanted by the governments of Mexico and the United States, and by INTERPOL.<br />
The U.S. offered a US$5 million reward for information leading to his capture, and the Mexican government offered a reward of 60 million pesos (approximately US$3.8 million) for information on Guzmán.<br />
 Guzmán was arrested by Mexican authorities in Mexico on 22 February 2014. He was found inside his fourth-floor condominium in Mazatlán, Sinaloa, and was captured without a gunshot being fired. Guzmán escaped from prison again on 11 July 2015 by exiting through a tunnel that<br />
led to a nearby construction site. He was recaptured by Mexican marines following a gun battle on 8 January 2016.<br />
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wizard calidad<br />
curled from google.<br />
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El Chapo, the masterminder

. "I know the Villain, El Chapo" Series 1 . Such a statement can get you arrested and detained under maximum security at DEA....

ORGANIZATION OF LOOTING ELDERS - (OLE)

A youth thief in Nigeria can only steal in thousands; the highest any have ever stolen were in few millions. However, when caught, the justice system grew big horns or better still, they were televised to an open shame, shot dead without due process, never to see the light of yet another day.<br />
<br />
Things are not the same as they were before; At old age, a time to reflect on past activities and carefully close any gap for posterity sake, this was the usual. Unfortunately, many of our so-called elders have refuse to do the needful instead they have betrayed us and stolen our commonwealth for self alone: they (elders) have so buried their conscience in the graves where they were suppose to rest in peace and have refused to die because of the alarming wealth in possession.<br />
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Sadly, even when they are arrested for a crime, they are always tried in a stage-managed Court Of Law where they are sentenced to serve a jail term in a home away from home; and on their release they are celebrated like Kings, a true Role Model.<br />
<br />
It is a shame, a big shame that the monies meant for the procurement of arms to fight the insurgency that has suddenly plagued our dear nation like cancer, was so graciously shared by some shameless idiots called elders under the watchful eye of the so-called "Hero of Peace".<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, they (Organization of Looting Elders - OLE) watched a vibrant Army loose their moral while others met their untimely waterloo and the vast majority termed "Cowards" for fleeing the front-lines. Nevertheless, these old fools lived in exotic luxury, daily dividing the nation into factions of political genocide.<br />
<br />
Our infrastructures are in total decay. All sectors of the nation have nothing to write home about. I could go on and on to tell of these fools and their evil deeds. My earnest prayer is for them all to pay for the gruesome sins they committed against the good people of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.<br />
So I pray, Amen!<br />
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#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature<br />
#GOAL #MondaySpecial #OLE #ShameToThePastAdministration #BuildMoreJails #ReturnOurMoney #SomeAPCLeadersNeedtheWipeOfJustice #Justice #NigeriaLooters #Nigeria<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLHB_tgJkiMaM428YxjAfOSLwwsE7HrsdgyhlzPba-YmisYmZfgCQd3tB6klSG910xzShomSeNHhlFaSk3GHi-6O4ydPMLJSvMFXDhzwmLzmhMoIo0LSdTs6juH-FRWWY464Ld7ftI0j0/s1600/20151218075059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLHB_tgJkiMaM428YxjAfOSLwwsE7HrsdgyhlzPba-YmisYmZfgCQd3tB6klSG910xzShomSeNHhlFaSk3GHi-6O4ydPMLJSvMFXDhzwmLzmhMoIo0LSdTs6juH-FRWWY464Ld7ftI0j0/s640/20151218075059.jpg"> </a> </div>

ORGANIZATION OF LOOTING ELDERS - (OLE)

A youth thief in Nigeria can only steal in thousands; the highest any have ever stolen were in few millions. However, when caught, the justi...

Poets corner entry; THE BOOK OF LOVE

Gently, I opened the soft pages of this magical book<div>
It swept me off my feet while I read of no defeats.</div>
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The first pages I flipped for a good read made my brave heart skip like a disc.</div>
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Like rain drops, I fell</div>
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But the spell in the written words revived my rise and shine</div>
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And like the written words so was I.</div>
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Reading through the leading lines, I walked not in blindness but in happiness and kindness to all.</div>
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The warmth of love filled my ever thirsty soul to peace</div>
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Could this be love?</div>
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So much of it showered on me that I became so wet in glorious splendor.</div>
<div>
The last pages of this special book of mine,</div>
<div>
Made me understand that love lives forever no matter how hurt I may have been,</div>
<div>
So continued and started to read all over again! </div>
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#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature</div>
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#GOAL #SundaySpecial #TheBookOfLove #Bible #ILoveTheBible #ReadItandBeWise</div>
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Poets corner entry; THE BOOK OF LOVE

Gently, I opened the soft pages of this magical book It swept me off my feet while I read of no defeats. The first pages I flipped for a ...

poets corner entry; LAMENTATIONS

Big cars no fuel<div>
People trekking</div>
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No food, no roofs, no jobs!</div>
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Smiles on only a few</div>
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And the vast multitude, no smiles at all!</div>
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The Naira is voiceless, daily lacking erection to perform.</div>
<div>
Where do we go from here?</div>
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Is this the change we sought?</div>
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For the liquid gold we queue to be cheated</div>
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How long shall we continue in chains of promises?</div>
<div>
The doctor that doctored was a quack.</div>
<div>
Tell me, how a goat who ate our yams suddenly becomes our hero?</div>
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No, not the Police alone should go, all of us should!</div>
<div>
I hope this change will change the change?</div>
<div>
Quite confused, I am fused with deceit, so are all of you!</div>
<div>
Where is the rule of law, the hope for our tomorrow?</div>
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I search to find under the boots of the old soldier!</div>
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#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature</div>
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#GOAL #SaturdaySpecial #Lamentations #StateOfTheNation #Frustration #Agitation #Corruption #CelebratingMediocrity #RuleOfLaw #EqualRightsandJustice #Nigeria #Poetry</div>
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poets corner entry; LAMENTATIONS

Big cars no fuel People trekking No food, no roofs, no jobs! Smiles on only a few And the vast multitude, no smiles at all! The Nai...

Poets corner entry; In my youngest childhood by Godson osarenhen

In my youngest childhood<div>
How my mum for a suck was my best friend!</div>
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In her absence did I play with sand and even ate them like rice.</div>
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In my youngest childhood</div>
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Did I act as Papa and my neighbor, "my dearly beloved"; Mama!</div>
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How we had children and stole our first kisses from hiding and seeking.</div>
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In my youngest childhood</div>
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How my bed always rained wet drops!</div>
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And my right finger like Mama's breast, I sucked!</div>
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The wipe was not my friend and to her woes my mouth opened out loud to weep.</div>
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In my youngest childhood</div>
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Listening to the tales by moonlight was fun</div>
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How reading and writing was such a bore!</div>
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Christmas brought in new clothes to wear and a special kind of rice to chew</div>
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Father Christmas was better than Santa, how I never wanted to see him alone!</div>
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<br></div>
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In my youngest childhood</div>
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I told no lie, as my innocence always unveiled with no secrets.</div>
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How I wished for adulthood!</div>
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How my wish came true!</div>
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How I wish no more in my youngest old age!  </div><div><br></div>
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#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature</div>
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#GOAL #FridaySpecial #InMyYoungestChildhood #ChildhoodExperience #HowIwishIWasAChildAgain #Poetry</div>
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Poets corner entry; In my youngest childhood by Godson osarenhen

In my youngest childhood How my mum for a suck was my best friend! In her absence did I play with sand and even ate them like rice. I...

AFTER A CONTAMINATED HANDSHAKE, WHAT IS POETRY?

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I will never cease to say that poetry is an emotional outburst of deep lingering emotions carefully painted with words that never ends. These esthetic words often used by a poet shows the beauty, the wealth and the depth of the mind; an astonishing reality of our society. </div>
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It is no news that we Africans are products of our emotions; this is so evident in our thought process and mannerism, just like the colour of our skin- BLACK. Thus, I am not wrong to say, Africa is the home of poetry.</div>
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These unreserved emotional expressions are richly interpreted by our cultures and traditions- "the teacher far greater than that of the classroom system". It is the awakening of the conscious mind, the identification of self and the expression of an inner golden thought familiar to many but garnished and rendered in poetic forms.</div>
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This form of art culturally mastered in the home of poetry (Africa) brings out the rhythm, the flavour, the tears, the joy, the fighting spirit, the hope for survival, the morals, the spirituality and the search for the unknown.</div>
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However, the reverend lifestyle of the African continent was rudely interrupted by the advent of the Europeans into our tribes, kingdoms and empires in the early 1500's. The contaminated handshake gripping firmly the hands of the African continent was a systematic transmission of a strange lifestyle forced down our throat from the days of slavery up until the colonial era in the 20th Century.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The contaminated handshake, a disease from the West was a total replacement of our norms and beliefs, language, religion, politics, education and socio-economic lifestyle; this disease of over-familiarity abruptly influenced and watered the depth of the African mind.</div>
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"THE INTRUDERS!</div>
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We are the children of noble birth, </div>
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Offspring's an ancestral carriage, ageless pearls!</div>
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Once upon a time, we lived in towns that later grew into an elephantine empire.</div>
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The Oba remains Oba</div>
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Spiritual, philosophical and a sole administrator of all, </div>
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With a well organized hierarchy of warlords, councilors, diviners, chiefs and town criers.</div>
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Ogiso gha to kpere,</div>
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Ise!</div>
<div>
Oba gha to kpere,</div>
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Ise!</div>
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<br /></div>
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In the said "Dark Continent"</div>
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Was a light</div>
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The beginning of creation.</div>
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Great civilization blessed with precious stones and cultural ethics.</div>
<div>
How they marveled at the realization of our peculiar existence, a civilized nation.</div>
<div>
They wanted to see, they wanted to see!</div>
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Soon came colonial expansion, a meeting held right in the German parlor.</div>
<div>
Exploration began!</div>
<div>
With die-hard miners mining! </div>
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Mining the essence of our pride, our manhood.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Oba gha to kpere,</div>
<div>
Ise!</div>
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Our gracious existence was first sniffed at by the Portuguese, the dogs from the West;</div>
<div>
These gods had no toes but deceit as a skill to trade. </div>
<div>
Oh yes! Business is good when there are returns and turn overs.</div>
<div>
So were my fathers for so long a tool, their fool.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Coming and Going </div>
<div>
The intruders march past our tribes, kingdoms and empires,</div>
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With several gadgets of multiple deception:</div>
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Through the missionaries, the opium, the brain wash!</div>
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Educating our minds with "JUNKS NO LOGIC" (Technology).</div>
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Enslaving our true existence, </div>
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Sadly a bleak existence our present tenses.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Coming and Going</div>
<div>
More from us and more virus in us,</div>
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An injection of white blood cells; A.S! S.S!</div>
<div>
How our immune for survival is totally dependent on them, The New Age!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Finally in 1897,</div>
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The beast in them out ran our moats and warriors,</div>
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With a different kind of arrow unknown to us, they unleashed.</div>
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Ewo!</div>
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Unheard abomination!</div>
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My sacred Oba was exiled to Calabar to eat Afang soup with the Effiong's,</div>
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While the white oppressor crowned himself, The Oba of Benin!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Oba gha to kpere, </div>
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Ise!</div>
<div>
The Oba remains Oba;</div>
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Though a diluted juice, more or less a punctured tyre of our ancestral carriage.</div>
<div>
Yes, we remain proud in the nobility of our Oba!</div>
<div>
Where is Queen Idia, the mother of our city? </div>
<div>
She is still starched up with the Queen who lives in "Bulky Harm"</div>
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When shall I see my home, her endless cry out loud!</div>
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But the Queen is too deaf listen in Edo.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The new age is our robotic future </div>
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A colonial vulture feeding on our decayed culture,</div>
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An era were ogun and other wise gods are seen as dirt, motionless and speechless.</div>
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And the Holy Church, a holy matrimony of the same; pro-creating test-tube babies!</div>
<div>
Tufiakwa! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Children of Erediawa, Shine your eyes!</div>
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The intruders are rude perverts exposing our private parts to a naked shame, </div>
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Sweetest Taboo!</div>
<div>
And they won't give up not until the Ivory continent is an exact photocopy of their wet dreams.</div>
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I guess those days so brainwashed as blind were better of to see,</div>
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An era of wise gods, hard work and a good moral standing.</div>
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Take me back!</div>
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I want to go back!"  </div>
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<br /></div>
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I know many might disagree with these claims that the contaminated handshake was rather a light to the African continent. Tell me, how will you feel when I claim to give you what you already have?</div>
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As African poets and writers, we are the most fortunate in the globe. First, we have the tool of an enforced language due to colonialism and that our cultural tongue, our mother tongue. These languages (foreign and local), a tool for the expression of our thoughts increases the depth and wealth of our literary works and these literary prowess have been noticed in the past decades.</div>
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<div>
"MY WHITE PRIVILEGES.</div>
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<br /></div>
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By birth I was privileged to be human like any other</div>
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And of the African sunshine I daily rise at dawn.</div>
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My colour for so long have been looked down upon and classed;</div>
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Meanwhile, we all are students of vanity,</div>
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With the supreme being; our teacher, our maker!</div>
<div>
The privileges of supremacy are deceitfully wrong, unfollow!</div>
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Fashioned to make me less than I am,</div>
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In a world that I was born into like any other.</div>
<div>
Animals claim superiority and domination over others; the lifestyle in the jungle.</div>
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And of the struggle to survive this inhuman act is the black cross;</div>
<div>
Carried from generations to generation with such complex.</div>
<div>
Will this white lie ever stop?</div>
<div>
However, times have changed like the climate!</div>
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Most of all of us could pass for the West</div>
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Except for our skin that is as dark as their heart.</div>
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Now, I have my white privileges even though I am this black in their list.</div>
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It is the language they speak and of it I hear so well,</div>
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With an untamed tongue to tell these wrongs as long as I live."</div>
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<br /></div>
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Oral literature or Spoken Word Poetry have always been an African art for expressing deep lingering unreserved emotions; however, it was stolen from Africa and re-branded in America and sold back to us as a new form of art (L.I.E.S).</div>
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<br /></div>
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I get really sick when I read poems done by African poets painting Africa like the West using dictions more sophisticated than that of William Shakespeare; Yes it is poetry but I tell you most frankly, you can’t beat the West in the expression of their mother tongue, it is their art. </div>
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At this point what should be most paramount in our hearts is the local research of our historic facts and the preservation of those cultural heritage that we can still find after a contaminated handshake through poetry.</div>
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Poetry is a veritable tool for expression, so let's speak! We should be seen as 'repping' Africa and not raping Africa- a direct photocopy of the west. We should come up with works that bring back that nostalgic feeling and pride as true Africans.</div>
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"THE AFRICAN FEVER.</div>
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I love the African fever</div>
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And of this I don't want my healing.</div>
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It flows in my veins</div>
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It rains down on me</div>
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Dripping, dropping until I am so cold.</div>
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Even when I catch a cold</div>
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The sun smiles down on me</div>
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To shake off every alien fever.</div>
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At crow up until the moon shows,</div>
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A taboo I dare not break</div>
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As the god's, in wisdom their ever saying mouth.</div>
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The African fever, my endless fever.</div>
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On her stretcher I daily find myself</div>
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As only her oxygen revives me time after time.</div>
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I can no longer hide the her in me and the me in her.</div>
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As we are forever one.</div>
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Her cry in my dreams is deeply heard</div>
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As all of my immortal being cries out MAMA!</div>
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And from her ebony breast I daily suck a higher fever; The Required Immune Conscious Syndrome.</div>
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I know my brothers outside the distant shores do miss, </div>
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Her soup and her song</div>
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Her rights and her wrongs</div>
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Her rise and her fall</div>
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Her fall like the Victoria it falls</div>
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And for her rise the sun will stand.</div>
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The greenness of her green, Herbal!</div>
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The mountains, the valleys and the hills, Spiritual!</div>
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The people and the will, The Fever!</div>
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The rulers and their greed, The rebellion!</div>
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The hunger and the endless waste, Our Failure!</div>
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And on our skin the fever really shows,</div>
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And in our hearts the drum beats survival.</div>
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And with the drums rolling and rumbling in a resounding force</div>
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Another African child just caught the fever at birth."</div>
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I tell you again, the West can never give up their lifestyle to accept our's. Most of all us have ceded over and this has affected our style of writing. Just imagine Ogun eating salad or baked beans, the feeling is Tufiakwa!</div>
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This is a clarion call to all African poets and writers, a call to depth, a call to our cultures and traditions that binds; Africa might go into extinction by 2050 that is to say a direct photocopy of the West if we do not change our ways and do a soul searching. "Be African in thought but global in views and expressions."</div>
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Examples of what I mean;</div>
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“The Calabash, the immortal drunkard</div>
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The only friend to the palm wine</div>
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My ancestors know you as he who drinks sweet wine</div>
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But how much can I tell of you”</div>
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“Gone are those days across the clouds beyond</div>
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When Sango the son of Orayan, the terrible one</div>
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Is called upon and he replies with thunder”</div>
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“The iroko tree my dwelling place no longer stands on her feet</div>
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On her sacred secret peaceful place is planted a big shrine</div>
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Where large smelling mouths shout, Hallelujah</div>
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What a slap on my face!”</div>
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“The reddish muddy sandy land that grows green herbal vegetation.</div>
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The cultural temple of the world second to none</div>
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The children of great warriors whose descent can be traced to the nobility of the Oba</div>
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Oba gha to kpere,</div>
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Ise!”</div>
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In addition, the wealth of our literary works which affects our thought process and writing in general can be resurrected from a foreseen decay, if only we can pride in our culture and relate with the locals- visit our home towns and villages.  </div>
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For more revelations on the Africanism after a contaminated handshake and need to save our continent from extinction through poetry read works done by Leopold Sedar Senghor (The father of Negritude), Davip Diop, Walter Rodney, J.P Clark, Oswald Mitshali, Wole Soyinka; Peter Tosh (Music), Tracy Chapman (Music), The Root (Movie), Twelve Years A Slave etc.</div>
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A lost African child who will find you? Poetry is an oath to depth and we African Poets should find this depth in the relics from a contaminated handshake. </div>
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Thank you for your time!</div>
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Much Love Like Rain. PEACE!</div>
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#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬</div>
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#GOAL #FridaySpecial #Poetry #Africa #Europe #FOS #UnitedNations #AU #Nigeria</div>
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AFTER A CONTAMINATED HANDSHAKE, WHAT IS POETRY?

I will never cease to say that poetry is an emotional outburst of deep lingering emotions carefully painted with words that never ends. Th...

Poets corner entry: journey-continuum by Abd-afeez Abd-hamid

<p dir="ltr">Journey-continuum</p>
<p dir="ltr">The beginning was a skewed existence, <br>
Whose certainty adheres to a divine pledge. <br>
Life is a journey of mysterious transcend,<br>
Whose lanky soul vibrates an expanse of perplexity. <br>
We've been birthed as a progeny of a supreme purpose. <br>
Our ethos bathed irony in ego's rigours, <br>
And we live in random courses, yet united by strange divine curses. </p>
<p dir="ltr">A cascade into our very consciences, <br>
glimpse irony there in. <br>
Our jaundiced hope lacks rhythm, <br>
As season upon season our luck dances, <br>
Indicative of our very wavery sense of consistency.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Yet, our ignorance whispers to us a faltering confidence,<br>
Hence soars pride, spreading its virulent root across our conscience.<br>
We've been infected with an infestation of overconfidence.<br>
Such weakness that filled us with uncautioned  pretence. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Yet we mount our hopelessness to its very peak, <br>
Only to leap and dive into its eerie atmosphere of redundancy, <br>
Our senses lies milked, a stripped continuum of our wisdom-leprosy. <br>
Virtues light goes bleak, fading slowly into a thinly abyss. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Yet, nothing changes in reality, <br>
Men, plants, animals or things, <br>
It doesn't matter which exists.<br>
Life remains a journey-continuum,<br>
As generations come and go, <br>
They live and they die still, <br>
Nothing changes, life continues,<br>
However, their every legacies, <br>
Every bit of its expanses, <br>
Remains a component of nature's continuum matrix. <br>
And forever their memories<br>
shall exists in the very root of earth's fabrics.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Dedicated to our gone; families, friends, warriors and heroes.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLC_EyK3xmdDPI9iToVzSZhlR2fMNYbVV8CsWBXT-Muc0LDbAkgRLLCPG5tPdXih2UDvtE8rcRtYF1fC58P3vxBFxFBGr7SQoT4SEskLZrXI-Kc32l8vGb-PNaXejzzFLSMyYzY17j3I/s1600/20160112183021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLC_EyK3xmdDPI9iToVzSZhlR2fMNYbVV8CsWBXT-Muc0LDbAkgRLLCPG5tPdXih2UDvtE8rcRtYF1fC58P3vxBFxFBGr7SQoT4SEskLZrXI-Kc32l8vGb-PNaXejzzFLSMyYzY17j3I/s640/20160112183021.jpg"> </a> </div>

Poets corner entry: journey-continuum by Abd-afeez Abd-hamid

Journey-continuum The beginning was a skewed existence, Whose certainty adheres to a divine pledge. Life is a journey of mysterious trans...

Poets corner entry: liability company by Bolaji Akinwande

<p dir="ltr">Liability Company</p>
<p dir="ltr">i<br>
On your birthday<br>
I will not laugh<br>
No chocolate<br>
For you!</p>
<p dir="ltr">ii<br>
I will frown my face<br>
Like someone killed<br>
With the stench of fart<br>
Your age I count, <br>
nothing, nothing!!</p>
<p dir="ltr">iii<br>
On your sick-bed I longed for<br>
Die! I will spend my last naira<br>
To entomb you and dance<br>
They kiss the shroud like that!</p>
<p dir="ltr">Bolaji Akintola</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIeU28Vb95t_USAzyHWy6pYe2LRhpa8EVumIMylCXaJwbwjix_enrNWeed4xCWVVD_aCZUMR5JrORIES8W6NWFzGBNEha1gy1W_Jd1a72dOMRxX_N9jib_8Qe7RogU7MuWn5_wzCyxw0/s1600/20160114161709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIeU28Vb95t_USAzyHWy6pYe2LRhpa8EVumIMylCXaJwbwjix_enrNWeed4xCWVVD_aCZUMR5JrORIES8W6NWFzGBNEha1gy1W_Jd1a72dOMRxX_N9jib_8Qe7RogU7MuWn5_wzCyxw0/s640/20160114161709.jpg"> </a> </div>

Poets corner entry: liability company by Bolaji Akinwande

Liability Company i On your birthday I will not laugh No chocolate For you! ii I will frown my face Like someone killed With the st...