Oje's Enigmatic Encounter

It was a time of yet another excitement. Although Oje had slept in snatches, half an hour at most; the fatigue was doing tricks with his vision. He’d always relished the idea of getting up early so he dragged himself up. He read already, his paper was ready to be turned in, in every breast captured the lifestyle of a partial student-hood; a book-bag comprised two pens, two handouts, a notebook, a textbook, and a novel.

At 5:45am he grabbed his bag, fortified himself with a quick drink and stepped out. The outside possessed light air with accomplishing feeling, like the electricity of a storm which just burst. The wind sighed; birds twittered; the trees stretched their leaves for good morning hugs; and every other promise hovering the air of a delicious Thursday morning was in effect. Except one thing: he wore a summer garb. Like many previous days, the weather wronged the weatherman who left him hanging his head and accepting the notion that the entire day was going to be hot.

With arms akimbo, he squinted up at the sky to calculate the leftover night. A vague exposure revealed the clouds scudding westward. Clutching himself, leaning forward against the wind, he walked down the street, and halfway was a woman making sure her children's seat-belts were fastened; and a couple of blocks, a swarthy lady wearing jewelries [not gaudy] made of beads in beautiful and colorful combination. Both had one thing in common - a green-white-green bumper sticker stuck to their respective automobiles.

Ravishing people, he thought and cracked a smile.

He glanced at his wrist watch and murmured, “Damn! I’m dead!” He ran for some couple of seconds, sometimes trotted, cautious of the foggy and ghostly gray atmosphere. He stopped and started walking again, though, in a faster pace. Suddenly, he felt something sour in his throat, a faint sourdough bread taste. “I hope I make it on time.. ain’t got time for Dr. B’s drama.”

He finally made it to class. He was three minutes late. Gently, he opened the door and made an impatient motion with his eyes which swept toward the class. His teeth were gnashing, shoulders twitching, bearing same level as his ears thereby making him seemed as though he had no neck. A success, he thought, but not for long as the reversal wasn’t. The door made an irritating sound.

Dr. B. curiously stared at him. The squeaking door had distracted his teaching. A little fury covered his face: nostrils raised, and forehead wiggled. "Okay?"

Oje chanted, half moaning his words, not speaking them. His breath came in quick, short gasps, with an indrawn “umn!” between each rapid word. “What had happened was-”

“What?!”

Lost in his thought, he mumbled, “huh.h”

“Excuse me?!”

"I mean nothing." He was conscious of his own voice, the tone and language.

“Good.” He picked up a marker. The man didn't play that. He was a strict guy who loved to see his students thumb out beads of sweat from their foreheads even in cold temperature. Occasionally, Oje had [silently] mimicked him when he repeated phrases like “Don’t bother to show up when you’re five minutes late; otherwise, you’re a mere scarecrow taking up space.”

Oje spotted a seat in the middle of the class, sat down and sighed, almost simultaneously. He had no sooner understood the discussion than he had started wandering. He’d heard the professor mentioned Nigeria. With captured wrinkle in his face, he sat gazing into space, trying to inventory the event unfolding in his stomach. “Nigeria was mentioned? Negatively or..," he muttered.

“Okay,” he said. He cleared his throat and picked up a ballpoint pen. He was a tall, healthy man in his early fifties; his hair freely sprinkled with gray, dressed in navy corduroy trousers, a white collar shirt and slipped on pair of half-moon reading glasses. "So, this is what we experience today. American Literature since 1865 has been this way."

"Is it just here in the States or other countries of the world?” a student asked.

"I'd say almost every country,” he said. He adjusted his glasses and gazed at Oje as though he’d wrongly done something. Well, yes, he thought. “Like I was saying before interrupted I know Nigeria to be one of the few countries" he stressed, "There, you're most likely to witness world renowned playwrights and griots like Wole Soyinka."

This smote the class. Oje, on his part, was overcome with a feeling akin to awe. He was at peace. Not just peace. No more wandering. He removed his left hand that had been cupping his belly and freed his right hand that had been carrying his jaw.

Oje figured it'd feel good hearing it again. He grunted under his breath and pretended not to have heard him clearly. “I’m sorry. What country? Nige-”

“-Yes. Exactly,” he said sharply. He lifted his chin, his eyes semi-closed, and immediately, widely opened when he noticed a gleam of happiness on Oje’s face. He turned to him. “What’s funny?"

“Oh me?” he asked surprisingly.

“No, me” he scoffed.

“Well then.” He stood, snickering. He was ignorant of even the most fundamental rule, which defined his rights and responsibilities as well as established system of procedures for dealing with students charged with violations of such rules. Much of the impetus for this act came from a silence after his mind had gone back and forth to the time when he saw the Nigerian women; the green-white-green bumper stickers; and jewelries. And now this, he thought. “What a coincidence! Today is Nigeria’s Independence Day anniversary” he stressed, “It's a good feeling to see Nigeria acknowledged for a job well done, even though in countless amount her heart has been torn by foreigners with grief feelings and selfish interests. And stereotypes. And a torrent of criticism” he stuttered, “And-”

“-Go on,” he said sharply. His wrinkled eyebrows were upwards. “This is the reason we’re all here.” Meanwhile, majority of the students in the class were stunned. They’d never seen Oje expressed himself that way. Dr. B., Oje thought, was cool at least that time.

“Nigeria is a woman. A real woman. Although born in October, she should be treated like a November cotton flower - with respect. Nigeria is a woman. She’s no white elephant. She has potentials. Yes, I said potentials.” He looked at him and grinned. “I think I’m done.”

“Well said.” He smiled. One student clapped, and then others joined. He looked at the other students and then him. “Well said”

“Thank you.” He wasn't wearing his smiley face at that point in time. He was serious and at the same time nodding his head, showing appreciation. He sat down, sighed, shut his eyes and escorted his mind to another realm of thought. This time he pictured Nigeria as a woman. He sensed her pride for him. He saw her wept for very pleasure when she felt his little arms clasping her; his hard, ruddy cheeks pressed against her own glowing cheeks; and the look into his face with hungry eyes that could not be satisfied with looking. He opened his eyes, cracked a smile and said within him, “Good job but this doesn't mean I'll stick to complacency. I’ve got more work to do.”

Lost Leadership

They must go; let them go
Is what he hungers for
And thirsts for
Differs though
From shepherding sheep
The former possess possession
Latter train apprentices

Trade by barter
And men for cowries
Now cross-checked
As a compulsory history class
For both black and white being

Being being, consume the idea
Like a consumer opting
For the highest satisfaction in life
No, no modern word
Never correspond with early civilization

Replacing time-machine with voodoo
I'm a successful harvester not rich
And a cheerful giver not a philanthropist

Still have hut with thatch
Moulded for critics and opponents
Your surnames define you
All cropped in one basket
In support of today's monarch

Call me contrary; that's me
Absent repetition in my work
Although a blessing to work me through

Call man all the homos
Sapience is what he embraces
Known after origins and traces
Yet shepherds don't apply it.

Oxymoron

Act naturally
Bitter sweet
Common sense
Durance freedom
Empty satiety
Epicene human
Eyes wide shot
Frozen tears
Fine mess
Gelid summer
Global village
Godly atheist
Government intelligence
Hidden bravura
Honest politicians
House arrest
Icy hot
Inside out
Lost memories
Living dead
Pregnant virgin
Real sobriquet
Second best
Silent buzz
True lies

Still in the Game

German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” That’s correct! I’m in that state right now – flux.

I try as much as possible to abstain from people like people who get on your nerves. In other words, you should be on my side. Have you ever asked yourself this question? “What don’t they understand?” It’s crazy how your ace, the one accompanist, turned out overnight, leaving you with bitter thoughts and acrimonious memories. To make matter worse, he dragged your name to an arena of complete defamation. You don’t like that, do you? No one does, I guess.

He’s affable, albeit sometimes, he lacks some other attributes of listening. I tried to help out on that with sign languages, usually from a distance. It worked most times.

“Catch me if you can” is the name of the game. Quick Reminder: I’m aloof and far.

I drew the curtain because like him, some people take my benevolence for granted. I’m not stretching hatred towards anybody, though. On the contrary, in your fortified reasoning, feel free to embrace altercation and extend your thought towards my ideas as an alluvium of animosity.

I am unusually an irksome human but I’m irked and now it’s time the sucker faced my ire. I thought I’d told him already to quit testing my mentality. Well, the fact that people are aghast at the economic situation doesn’t mean he should grasp all; rather, he should only adhere to half the definition and get prepared for an interview which ensnares nothing but getting his lips imbued. After such, he can be rest assured of turning pennies and nickels per second to some couple of dollars just by osculating my ass. Smart-ass is what they call me, so there’s nothing to regret, or is there?

Blame me not; my writing is an ambassador whom is ready to stand face-to-face with anyone in a game called, Affront.

In the past, I’d always begged him not to hate me but the game, but his ichthyic brain wouldn’t concur to such an appeal.

Before now, what did you suggest I do? Uprightly carry my cheeks and jaw while my elbows suffer the weight? Oh please! Although I’m a coquette to knowledge like some lasses to me, I don’t even want to admit the phrase “Back down” into my institution.

The wind sighs on my behalf so I’m in a languid mode. You can say I’m still modeling but I should be an icon in a few minutes. Nah, I take that back - a statue. Until then, I submit that he learns from what he cannot learn from. This is because the world has just one library and I happen to be the curator.

I’m never in disguise. I don’t try to be. It makes no sense. I mean, I’m like the sol that shines and my morale still gets noticed in my diurnal activities. Play along with me. It’s a game… just that I’m not into a conciliatory concordance. Sorry, not now. Maybe later…

Literally Veiled...Readers, Skip This! Pt 3

My brio comes in at sixes and sevens manning me up like a tiny town nestling among the foothills of the French Alps. Readily, I stated what needed be and told it like it is, more or less like making the rules- no amendments (i.e NB:). Prior to this time, he had legally broken in, sat down, and started a discussion based on the irrelevance of relocation. I let him play his last childish pranks and paid attention to his renowned epilogue. For once, I felt like clapping. I was going to let him know it's a role well played but then I had a second thought, and this time to let it slide. All I know is that he's always going to be two bricks shy of the load before my very eyes. Now the witnessed behavior makes me want to curse him out but I'm lost for words. So, permit me to say without remorse that he's like an irritant - nay, a virus which must be attenuated.

Spreading like wild fire, rumors bee my ears about his reference in relation to my uplift. Verily, I say to myself that it's a part of life where each and every human takes care of number one without reckoning with his/her fellow human. I always keep my wits with me and ready for any situation. Further writings about circumstances as this can be drafted in seconds, if needed. I don't have to be reminded that I have keen wits because most judgments taken in the past are right. All I'm stressing is to let your perception of life merge with mine to conclude his presence as one that didn't make one iota of a difference nor add an importance. In the case where you disagree, I understand. I saw the writing on the wall and was ready for it. Call it my selfish reason which I'm still on, and will embark on again after this, if I had another chance. But best believe this world is not a jungle; it's a court. I know He finds him guilty and sooner or later he'll get his knuckles rapped.

All shaken off.

Presently, I live in seventh heaven, way better than the previous. And about my finance, I'm yet to be in the clover. Gone were the days when I used to be in the red, almost went bankrupt. Now I keep books of every transaction. Know that the job remains the same, but it's enough to keep the wolf from the door. Plus, I don't beat my brains out anymore about unnecessary things but things to think about. I must confess that it really feels good to bury my head in the sand and not talk about it. Don't be surprised when a success immediately follows another; it's all planned out cheek by jowl.

A Me(ss)age-mo to Writers

Every writer is a hungry man, neither rich nor poor. Sometimes I read articles, journals, books, and much more and feel how they felt when writing. Passion! **sigh**  One could perceive in their works that every second gave birth to unique and/or refurbished ideas. BUT when delay outrages their belief of early publication, they tend to see the previous days as hair days. Others are absent-minders which as a result drives them to put out their work as quickly as possible. And their scorecards: nothing to write home about.

I'm not a writer nor a back seat driver, but I do have a (fill in the blank).

To start up with, adhere to the belief that it's very much OK for there to be a hardship. By now, saying it's an ill wind that blows nobody good should be a cliche to you because you and I know we don't learn better at any stage of our lives other than during hard times.

And for absent-minded writers, I submit that you soak up information like sponges. Be familiar with what the title or topic (should) umbrella(s).

Really, I hate being put into a feeding frenzy. However, I'll appreciate it if this is considered a (fill in the blank). Hey, it's a free country. You can dull all herein as a blind proof for calling yourself a pro or remain the same ol' ignorant I perceive and purloin my (fill in the blank).. lol

Should you take this for a  Mess, Message, or Memo?  You choose..

..T. Ohis

"QUESTION AND ANSWER" TAGS Q & A.

"QUESTION AND ANSWER" TAGS Q & A.

Before now, I received this topic and was tagged by Geebee . I apologize for the late reference. I was gonna come back and finish it. Well, it's now edited. Enjoy..


Where is your cell phone? Desk
Where is your significant other? Nigeria
Your hair color? Black
Your mother? Wanofakaind
Your father? Wanofakaind
Your favorite thing? Phone
Your dream last night? None
Your dream/goal? ApexIAL
The room you're in? Bedroom
Your hobby? Observing
Where do you want to be in 6 years? Washington
Where were you last night? Work
What you're not? You
One of your wish list items? Estate
Where you grew up? Lagos
The last thing you did? Laughed
What are you wearing? Robe
Your tv? On
Your pet? None
Your computer? Compaq
Your mood? Languid
Missing someone? Kindalaik
Your car? Buick
Something you're not wearing? Hat
Favorite store? None
Your summer? Hot
Love someone? Yeah
Your favorite color? Blue
When is the last time you laughed? Now
Last time you cried? 2008
Are you a b*tch? Nah
Favorite past time? Joker
Are you a hater or a lover? Both
Are you genuine or fake? Genuine
Any vices? None
Pro life or Wire hanger? Pro-life
McCain or Obama? Obama
Pro plastic or Natural? Natural
Dream job? Archiever

The Rules

1. All answers to each question must be in "ONE WORD"
2. Link the person who tagged you, and pass the tag along to seven (7) people
                                                                                            1. Solomonsydelle
                                                                                            2. Doug
                                                                                            3. MissLove
                                                                                            4. Deola
                                                                                            5. Rita
                                                                                            6. Doris
                                                                                            7. Afronuts

Poetry Controversy

Good, in between and bad

How good, in between and bad do you want it?

You are you as I am me

Let me do my work while you applaud

That's if you're not a poet

Well, if you are,

Welcome to our club

Until you are called out,

Sign in and remain calm

Otherwise you are them in our club

Be my guest, be my critic, you are snubbed

Like cigarette, we’ll be smoking

While you remain the stub

Disturbed. And will be extremely purged to the core

And that’s my word

Make a Difference

Let's launch a rocket
and make the good things reign
Hope it won't rain
On that day...
We'll be present
like it's strike
On the contrary, we'll hike.
Hike
This is a rural ground
Yes
The green weighs less than a pound
Who's to blame?
Give 'em the crown
they'll frown
and marry fame
We're all aware - that's your aim
Stealing our harvest
and cropping 'em in your pocket
Thinking...
we have a tribal mark
called, Surprise!
We know before our very eyes
Why not launch a rocket?
Help turn the table
and carry-out your onus
To a layman, this is understandable
There needn't be any excuse
Once again
make the ground urban
and invite folks' responses to huh
Let's launch a rocket

February's Intro

It's half of the shortest chosen disciple

When every human is a vegetarian

Black is remembered not as neutral but color

And around the birth dates of two Oyonmis

It's fair to lay my gift this way

Knowing it's one of the annual recurring ones

Contrary to a common gift; it's a perfect one

One that Literature has made easy.

Business Talk (Freestyling)

I checked my brain box and saw an avalanche of messages summed up to knowing the reasons I haven't written anything this year. Well, other than school and work, I'm into somethin' else... somethin' good, though.

I travelled to a state called Hallucination and brought you this:

*The Beginnin'*

Do me a favor. Listen/read when/while I talk/write because I'm the Big Cheese, and you're a mere bean counter.

Back to the problem on ground. Do you think I should bail out the banks?

*Flashback*

The banks refused to bankroll me when I needed help to establish my small business. Like the banks, other financial companies looked me with dismay when I asked them to float me a loan.

Situation immediately turned around after I got a break, got off the ground, and gained ground when hired by an undisclosed company. I am more or less like a sleeping partner. That being written, I can proudly say I took my time to hang out my shingle as a "Bizman". My onus is easy. All I need do is put things down in black and white. Can you believe that? It feels good to say I am in the black just like that.

My company, by a long shot compared to others, has developed immensely. It was easy staying on top. Unlike many businesses, I took a calculated risk when I put my ideas online. Come to think of it, do you know any successful business owner whom hadn't taken a risk before? I guess not.

Well, I'll fill the bill for what you need to be a successful business owner. First, you have to cut corner and by so doing, your losses will be cut. Second, make sure you put your nose to the grindstone and work by the book. Finally, pay tithes and offerings, then taxes. It may seem awkward but it's among the many principles to making a go of it. Absent greed and think beyond.

Follow my motion and in the long run you would be making money hand over fist.

*The End*