jeyKAD

O boy, you never give me my bread o!" One of the almost sounding-like-chorus sentences an ex-corps member gets days and even weeks after P.O.P.  In a good mood one could simply return the favour by saying, "bros I no dey work for bakery Na." But then they begin to emphasize on the 'my bread' thing like they sent you to serve in a bakery far away in the East. Well, it is only normal that one buys bread for 'the homies' Na. Abi how them go take know say you travel or don come from travel ni? But for some reasons you can't afford not to let the warm rush of blood swirl through your grey matter when the bread-collectors storm your private quarters. Others be like, "you don finish so o" and no matter how innocent they sound, your mind begin to sink in the shallow depth of  'what does that mean!?  You begin to think there's more to whats been said. That's just the beginning o. Trust me, your personal person has a sledgehammer question

The classes we took, the inks on books, Was so we’d be good to go and serve. Preparing the pen for that which we read, Was so we’d be good to go and serve. The call was made that we must obey, Both fragile and strong we found our way. Fit and picked to the city of coal, To live in and serve and fulfill our goal. The drills, the whistle. The meals, the bugle. And though no day was simple, We served our fatherland and her people. Some days were rosy, others like thorns. We came, we saw, we served! But then we toiled through rain and sun. We came, we saw, we served.

I rammed into his privacy though he chose to stay in the quiet of our shared corner. It was a place where he chose from which to ponder or reflect on what he may have seen or rather something I may not have been able to fathom as at that moment. Whatever it was, was not of immediate concern to me as the pressure that had formed therein my bladder had almost driven urine down my lower chamber. So I cared less for as long as the elating relief derived from emptying my turgid bladder ensued. Done, I intuitively took a cursory look at the valley behind the corpers’ lodge. Though not unfamiliar with this sight a new inspiration dawned on me. The valley unlike most I’ve seen has no plain land or stream at the bottom. Rather, it is made up of a thick vegetation of mango, palm trees and a mixture of other trees cum shrubs and thickets of tall grasses. It was richly green with sleepy fine grasses at the walls of the steep hills_ the way all the grasses bowed in harmony to the winds was and st

Many a time life gifts or forces us to settle for what we’d rather call very unpleasant situations that elicit pity when we see people who happen to be in such. Situations we at best would only picture in dreams when we fall into trance. Such situations shouldn’t be real. Such situations are not logical and should have little or no affiliation with reality. If ever this unreal fiction plays out before us, we’d rather see it as a lie. I’ve heard, seen and been with people (mostly corps members) who life forced such situations on. They never wore the hard times with ease even if such times were trending like new fashion. The overwhelming nature of these uncontrollable times seemed to take its toll and wear them down with worry__ blinding them with a lie. What lie? The lie that these situations cannot be real, that these should only transpire in a nightmare, that these are not only illogical but also unfair. The lie that they are not meant for such situations_ that the bitter pills of th

Is it the truth within our eyes, Or the lies that set us free? Is it the conscience that cages the heart, Or the haven of wrongs we'd rather be in? Why is the truth sour and hard to heed? Oh!  We just fall for the lies like a slippery hill. We thread behind the crescent and cross To be saved but far more we stray at our own loss. Some begin to feel the urge to play and act godly. From quiet they rise like winds  and become stormy. Though loved, trusted and worshipped, They live in our bad world and leave it worsened. Let me not bore you with familiar wordings, For the truth is obvious like fire and ashes. What does God want__what do we need? It's all in the scriotures_ to love_ read! ___PrinceJeremiah Kadiri

Fighting is heartaching and tiring. It breeds boredom and distance It puts the mind to too much work And scar hearts strong as steel. Yet I dare say and emphatically so, That to live and more so love Without a fight or two Is just as tiring, monotonic and boring. What's life without regrets? What's love without some bruises? How do we learn pain in endless hap? Isn't there wisdom in a wrinkled dimple? Love is pain, Life and to live is precarious. More so is a living without love, For no heartache equals a loveless life. Let the mind's eyes see the flaws, Let it judge and be bias. It is all it can and will always do Yet in the heart's dark and blindness _there's more than a billion reasons to love and live. ___Prince Jeremiah Kadiri

Friendship a concept more misconstrued than understood is that which has triggered the action that has brought about this piece. It is that which we claim we are familiar with yet there’s much more to it than meet the eyes. It forms the bulk of diction dished out daily on our usage of vocabulary for every man, woman, boy, girl, aged, young makes use of it as if it is a basic necessity needed for consumption and survival. O yeah! it is indeed needed but it is however not a consumable. It is not a commodity; it has no price tag. It is as good as air. Free of charge yet priceless. Shall we call it a gift? But then are gifts freely given? Well, most times, expectations riddle the minds and hearts of those who give gifts. Friendship, I read somewhere is like the wind. It may not be seen but it is felt all around us. Its presence can be felt intimately like sunrays bathing our rooms through doors and windows. This feeling can also be manifested in the rustling sound that forms the music we