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Category: Art

| Doomsday For Nigerians – 2019 Elections. What every Nigerian Should Know |

I urge every one of you Nigerians with voting powers be the crazy ones. Let us all be the crazy ones, just this once. There are of course those who do not want us to speak, feel or write about our current predicaments as individuals and even more so as a people. They do everything in their power to make sure the worse of situations seem so normal, and make you feel out of place to think of the opposite…

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| The Worst & Longest 23 Minutes Of My Life |

One thing is certain, you can never satisfy a confident self-sufficient self-fish piece of shit furniture with self-awareness issues. Another thing is certain, I will never invest my time and effort into pleasing any new furniture again.

| The Conscious Art Of Being Naked |

Before we dive into “the art of being naked” how often have you ever gone stark naked? I mean! Apart from the thrilling feeling you get from stripping off your work clothes and swaying on the sofa or bed in time to binge your favorite show. On a more serious note, I will like to invite you to try this, if you have never consciously stripped yourself for assessment. I’m referring to Self-awareness, dummy) haha! Bring your mind all the way home…

| PSA – Much Ado About Being Cultured In Nigeria|

In law school, during the mandatory dinner organized for us, we were expected to eat in a cultured manner. Food that was meant to be enjoyed became a burden. I saw friends and colleagues struggle with dinning etiquettes. Fork and knife mandate became a Beethoven rehearsal. I am very good with fork and knife (I love it) but how does that make me more cultured than someone who dines with a spoon?
In Nigeria, if I speak English with Igbo influence, my people say I have Igbo tongue, but when a foreigner speaks with native influence, we call it accent. C’mon fellow Nigerians, that is ridiculous. A lady went for a conference in Greece and after delivering her lectures on International Law was ushered to a wine tasting event to pass the time. Of course she could not decipher one wine from the other. All she knew was the wine was sweet. The foreigners near her gave her that unwanted stare – “uncultured person”.

| A Poem To My Mother |

Nothing can replace our mothers or our mother’s love. This poem is nothing compared to all the love and appreciation they should hear everyday….

| The Art Of Introspection |

From elections to wars we find ourselves trapped in cycles we cannot escape. We constantly entertain mass murderers who promise us revolution…