Poem: The Secret

wish i wrote this myself, but alas someone beat me to it. i still like it a great deal though. i can't remember the poet but here it is... it's called -

The Secret

we dance around in circles and suppose
but the Secret sits in the middle - and knows.

Enuka

i haven't done this yet and this is as good a time as any. Want to say Enuka was the person who got me to start this blog. she didn't force me to do it, mind, she didn't even tell me to, all she did was constantly tell me about her blog, and recommend i read it, which i did, and the rest, as they say...
so here's three happy cheers for Enuka (one for the inadvertant prod, one for her birthday which i responded late to, and one for her finally agreeing to date me to the exclusion of all others - she wishes!)
by the way enuka is one of the few friends i made in nysc orientation camp. she's a pretty nice girl, screwed up in her head and mostly honest about it that's why i like her, and she's about the world's worst flirt. she, incidently, happens to know my big sister, which put a stop to the initial sparks that had flown between us. i had had harboured this secret desire of an illicit affair with her till i realized if we did have an affair there was no factor to make it illicit. but then i'm digressing. anyway, enuka got me involved in more things than i thought i'd be. she had me cooking beans for my platoon, giving the girl who eventually won ms. nysc lessons on catwalking ( i got her number so i can't complain), she gave me this nickname that still gives me goosebumps all over my body whenever i hear it, and then i got to meet her whole crew (she had this clan made up of females fanatic to her Cause - don't ask me WHAT her Cause was though it seemed to include dissing guys, using guys and fooling guys, in that order). now i'm digressing again. the point is enuka is a wonderful personality and i'm not just saying that because i'm expecting something from her for my birthday on the 22ND of APRIL. she has a loving heart, wonderful, if volatile spirit and distinct perspective on every imaginable topic. whatever she does, whether conducting the beans- making team at camp (which she did very well) to parrying amorous advances from our instructors at the FRSC club (which she did very rudely) she's about the sweetest most sincere person you're likely to meet. she even helped me sign my name in when i was late for community development. oh sh**, i hope the Z.I doesn't read this...

Poem: On Success

Poem for the Day
(to all the harried go-getters in the corporate world of the Lagos Metropolis; a development of the saying by Oscar Wilde)

It is not enough that I succeed,
my friends also must fail
for Success, once shared by more than one
is then to no avail
the true measure of Success
is not who does it best
but how far the difference is
between the winner and the rest.

MY BED

The trouble with my bed is the size. Yeah, I know, most girls in magazines will tell you size doesn’t matter, but they’re wrong. Mine is big. Way too big. I mean football field kinda large. Maybe I should be happy for having such a large one. I know a guy whose been managing this really little one for a while. He complains every day in class. He’s too ashamed to bring girls over to his room. I mean, it’s really embarrassing. They get there and wham! - it’s this little limp piece of ___. Anyway back to mine. Every morning I wake up and guess what I see? All huge and ready in all it’s glory. I’ve long ago given up the idea of pounding it to a smaller size. Or even my hare brained scheme of getting it smaller through over use. I did that for three semesters but it still looks none the worse for it. I know I shouldn’t complain but let me explain to you the exact nature of my grouse. The thing with having one as big as mine is that there’s so much to do with it that you never get around to doing it. Let me use a not-so hypothetical situation. You have a girl in your room (yeah, I know, girls again. The world began with girls and guys) so you have a girl in your room and she, of course sees it. With an excited whoop she launches on it, bouncing around and all, trying all the while, to keep you somehow detached from the entire proceedings. That is theoretically and bodily impossible. So you join in the fray. Then comes the problem with size. I mean, it’s simply so large that there’s plenty of space for meandering. Even you, the owner, haven’t gotten complete mastery of the equipment. By the time all the running around has been done, lots of energy has been expended with no result. You collapse in a weary heap. She does too. And there’s strength left only for the perfunctory kiss, which you do between taking large gasps of breath. Invariably, you fall asleep and she lets herself out. You wake up late into the night. You’re too tired of sleeping to sleep again, and it’s too late to go anywhere. You go over the room sniffing places she touched, held, thinking of how unfair it all is...
I probably do complain too much. Life, after all, is not a bed of roses.

The Real Genesis

many people (assuming of course, that many people are goin to get to see this) are goin to want to know why i'm giving my blog this name (for those of you who don't get the pun, well, thats just too bad) So i thought of starting out with an introduction. it's a bit like what rap artists do - at least one song in the their debut album features an explanation about themselves (check out snoop dogg- "whats my name?" eminem- "the real slim shady" kano- "typical me" etc)

Just because I have a name like this don’t mean I have to contain profane stuff. I could very well be used for normal every day, witty sh**. Like what has four wheels and flies? A garbage truck. Of course that joke’s a bit over used and under rated and it’s the perfect example of what I intend to do with this column. School the public on the art of words. Reminds me on a reading I gave at my secondary school titled “Let Not Schooling Affect Your Education”. I virtually schooled the school on my school of thought in the comic genre. I was eventually told to school it down. Ok. Weak joke. Any way this reminds me (again) of something I heard a little recently. A sophomore asked her male colleague. “so why’d you decide to come to astrology class?” and the guy replies, “’cos I wanted to get to ur anus”. Now that sh** ain’t dirty. It’s just words man…

begin at the beginning...

well, let's see how this goes. I'm no catholic but decided to open this blog on the first day of lenten season (i'm into gestures that way). don't have anything exact to say but i guess i'll be seeing you folks pretty much soon (or the other way round, i forget which)