how to avoid appearing ugly to others

half face

'Top 10 Nigerian literary blogs' was what i just searched for on google and guess what? go search for it yourself and you'd find exactly what i find found. That asides, humans are very funny people, i mean really funny souls, some can also be cruel, harsh, pessimistic, but in all these, there is always a low level comic relief attached to all our actions. Lets take this black phone for an example. I picked up a random phone whose owner i don't know, upon pressing the power button, the phone displays one half of a female face, now i'm forced to bring the screen closer to my eyes in other to properly identify the half face, its not as if i'm blind or anything, just that its not everyday you get to come across a half-face. off course i recognize the full version of this half face now, it belongs to someone familiar, a beautiful young lady with all the round pegs in the round holes. On a normal day, it would

Warning! People are turning into Robots

Mass culture and cliché

Everyone goes to school, everyone wants to sing and make big bucks like wiz kid and Davido, every boy out there wants to play their way through the streets of Berger to the top flight football clubs in Europe, everyman believes most women are in relationships for money, every woman believes that any man who as much as accidentally looks their direction on the street wants to take them to bed, every politician is corrupt, Christians must attend church on Sunday, you cannot succeed in an examination without cheating, men have to ask women out on dates all the time, Women have to stay at home and take care of the children. Please give me a break, I am tired of the Cliches!

If we accept that the Merriam-Webster dictionary is any authority at all on the English language, then we may approve of its definition of Cliché to mean; "Something, most often a phrase or expression, that is overused or used outside its original context, so that its original impact and meaning are lost. A trite saying; a platitude. [from 19th c.]"

Xenophobia - a Poem

Xenophobia

The sun has set on the eastern skies
of this continent.
The Eagles that once swarm our happy
skies have retired in disgrace.
Crows now roam,
picking pieces of carcasses,
the victims of xenophobic fracases.

The fountain of our human kindness hath
dried up,
and the weight of imaginary excuses
now drive us to extinguishing the warm embers of brotherhood which once festered our progress and wealth.

The sacred groves and septic streets
lie baked with cakes of red hemoglobin,
I watch on TV as the life of one Mozambiqan violently sipped  through the gutter of a Durban street, until death tasted its last drop. The crowd cheered in disgrace.

Composed and written by
Onyeoziri Favour.

Ambassadors of promiscuity - The NYSC chronicles part 5

My last post on this blog primarily featured two young men in one of the orientation camps who were caught having sex and were decamped, although in a very quiet manner.

However the case seems to be the opposite in Akwa Ibom state, where a heterosexual couple were caught in the act and were allowed to go unpunished because of the political influence of one of the parents.

It was barely nine-thirty in the evening and many corpers were either loitering around or gossiping at Mami market which was the social hub of the orientation camp. Today was the fifth day since the resumption of camp for we Batch A Corpers, therefore many of us had made new friends from the horde of youths who were sent here for the three weeks orientation course. While some of us were still on the platonic stage of knowing each other, a few others progressed with lightning speed and were already referring to themselves with the glorified title of 'Boyfriend' and 'Girlfriend', i couldn't help but watch in awe, how possible it was for so much love to have bred within the short time frame of five days, especially with consideration extended to the fact that most of the time, we were at one parade, lecture or camp activity, thereby having very little time for socialization and chit-chats.

Sex in the camp - The NYSC chronicles part 4

Sex in the camp - Introduction

It appears that last night, Saturday 9th May 2015, there was a widespread party across many NYSC camps throughout the federation. While some camps such as Lagos were having a fun time, others like Kogi and Abuja seemed to have been grossly disappointing.

The Corpers in Kogi who were all happy at the prospect of an impending party, were disappointed when the barely an hour show ended without them having had any fun at all. In the words of Cynthia; one of the Corpers, the party which lasted between 9-10pm was "boring and stupid". While other camps were graced with the presence of top notch music arts and comedians, those in Kogi state had only the presence of native dancers supported by the merry children of the Women at Mammy market.

Ogun state camp was graced with the presence of Davido and Lil Kesh, while Oyo state camp had Ayo Adesanya, Bash the comedian and Adetoun of project fame in attendance, Davido was live in Taraba to the much delight of the Corpers, while on a lighter note, Zaki reportedly made a torchlight appearance at Katsina camp. I purposely left-out Lagos camp, because it was a huge concert there and everyone who is anyone in the Nigerian entertainment space was in attendance, Basket Mouth not excluded. Just for your information also, Lagos camp is just a scam compared to what other Corpers are facing in other states, in-fact majority of the Lagos Corpers have rightly asserted that they are not in camp, but were in-fact having a 'Faaji' (Festival).

Sex in the camp - full gist

Tonight, Musa could not be swayed by the appealing crispness of five one thousand Naira notes, neither was his ear audible to the pleas of such an atrocious duo. If it were under sharia law, both perpetrators would have been stoned until life exited their immoral bodies, but tonight, that would not be the case.

Banquet of Joy - a Poem

On May 2nd 2015, my friend Uthman Idris wedded his lovely wife Yetunde. This occasion inspired this poem.

A banquet of Joy

This evening, my feet is weary from elephantiasis of happiness.
The light of day had witnessed my epileptic dance moves.

And the dimming evening light had sneaked a last peek at my writhing body.
Immersed in a body of salty sweat pores, my clothe reeked of happiness and exuberance.

This night, i sit with beautiful memories on my right and an iced sachet of water in my hands.
The cool evening breeze warms my dipping spirit,
as i await the power company to restore electricity.

I'm used to waiting in an eternity of darkness, in exchange for a dusk of electricity.
I taste the excitement of the day on my lips, a friend had wedded.

Written by Onyeoziri Favour

Today, I'm posting a story centred around the theme of society and prejudice, it is titled "A sound in the ocean of silence"

A sound in the ocean of silence

She put the finishing touch to the blur of red lipstick decorating her lustrous lips, then uses the make-over brush to highlight the pink mascara on her cheeks. At the age of thirty, she was beginning to feel the impact of her ageing skin. Most of her friends were married with kids but it seemed that cupid had a personal grudge against her, and in consequence had effectively sent every man that came her way packing. These days, she no longer put up the coyness which used to pervade her response to any man who approached her for any reason at all. As the years progressed fewer men bothered with her company, it seemed age had put on dog ears around the edges of her beauty and her attractiveness had gradually waned with each birthday she celebrated. Today, just like every other day within the past three years, she had woken up very optimistic about meeting a man of her dreams who would not engage her in a long ceremonious period of dating but would rather find in her a perfect woman worth marrying within a short period of three months. Over the years she had realised that men were more attracted to what they saw more than what they experienced through the other four senses. Therefore, she had learnt to take appropriate and sometimes extreme steps to appear rather appealing both in facial appearance and in her apparels.

The NYSC chronicles - They won’t let me go

They won’t let me go

The Internet Café was fully packed with people, there was barely room for one to shuffle from one end of the small room to the other. shoulders brushed against each other, and foots just scratched the floor in a semi-futile attempt by people to move from their monitor screens to the single central Desk-jet printer which served the whole of the over fifteen computer systems, housed in this public internet access facility, which most people in Nigeria refer to as ‘business centre’.

Although I woke late that fateful Thursday morning, I was less perturbed about time and schedules since I had no structured job to clock into and out of, every other morning and evening. Today, I just decided to rest from all sorts of work whatsoever, I just wanted it to be my personal holiday, the only difference being that I would not be travelling, going to the Cinemas or indulging friends in sports and drinks. Today was supposed to be my personal, sit-at-home, sleep-all-through holiday, the only breaks allowed, being food breaks, but to my utmost aghast I had much more quiet time than I bargained for. Especially from the moment I got that horrific news that the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) call up letter had been released for prospective corpers to access.

Miss Maverick - Biography

Miss Maverick

Guest Post.

She is as radiant as the sun, as lustrous as the moon and as resplendent as the rainbow. She is finely cut, grace-laden, an epitome of glitz and glamour and an unequivocal embodiment of beauty. She's imbued with promising prospects, an houri endowed with succinct elegance plus an exemplar of brainy. She is a product of God's finesse in carving out an alluring being. Her enchanting smiles is capable of melting the "stoniest" of hearts. Her vocals reminds one of the tuneful nightingale. In addition, her fleckless vertical projections depicts the subtle handiwork of Mother Nature. As if all the afore-stated cannot suffice, she is self-acclaimed as Miss Maverick, a sobriquet befitting her eminence.

Virginity and Marriage

Virginity and Marriage

Generally used to depict a state of purity and stainlessness, the word 'virginity' however becomes more important once it is used to refer to the state of human sexuality, chastity and morality.

A Morning Lasts Forever - Winter Poetry

Have you ever woken up a morning after a rainy night. Just imagine the cold chill of that morning, how the cold effectively wraps you up in the comfort of your bed. If you had looked out through the window, you would have seen the thin frost, the fog and the dew. At that moment, did you wish for this majic to end? did you want the sun to break through? or did you want the cold to last forever?

A Morning Lasts Forever

Silence surrounded the atmosphere,
A beautiful formless quietness,
Sparse showers of dew,
Clouded the breaking dawn,
Delaying the sun for a few more hours.

In the distance,
a dog walks its blind owner.
The park's flowers relish the
Wetness of their leaves.
A beautiful melody escapes the
Wind's chilly lips.

In all of its whiteness and beauty,
The shekeleke Bird perches on the
Fence, the flowers and the wet ground.
The snakes lay hidden in the warmth
Of their holes.
The chameleon turns the weather's colour.

My bed envelopes me in its warmth.
I take off a minute to kneel and look
Through the window to see the first
Ray of the fiery sun,
Breaking through our thick frost.
Nothing good lasts forever,
nay, nothing at all does.

Written by,

Onyeoziri Favour.

Poet, writter, blogger.

Rouvafe.blogspot.com

Cracked Story - This is not a Love story

Note: This is not a love story.

Cracked Story

Sometimes, you just wear your Armour of indifference, making me feel depressed in the process. Whenever i complain, you never bother to usher reasonable responses, you just blab around, messing up the whole situation with a lot of soothing words.

The other day, you came home just when the long hand of the clock consummated with the short hand, both pointing at twelve. What you would never know was that i had spent the past three hours of that evening, nursing my fears, which grew consummately with the thickening darkness of an evening proceeding into night.
You claim to remember only the roaring hoarseness of my voice, the fury and the blinding slap which lightened up your head in a million glittery pieces. Till today, you still claim you saw stars, but all i saw was the errors of your ways.

For once, you never gave change a chance in your life, fool-hardily, you progressed incorrigibly through each day, raising my blood pressure with each of your actions and dipping my soul in the salty ocean of your deprivation. I bore with you, throughout each show of shame, you were hell-bent, never giving up on the error of your ways, i never gave up on you either.

Letter to a withering Petal

My dear,

i'm scared of your beauty, which like sugar attracts all sorts of creatures, mammals and insects alike.

The other day, both of us walked down the street. I was by your side, watching your swinging hips and matching your sexy legs stride by stride.

You may not know, but that calm evening, when the sun had hidden behind the shade of the clouds, we strolled the streets of Ikeja G.R.A, from Country club to Isaac John. The ear pods where glued to each of your ears, and the only thing you could hear, were not the subtle catcalls and the fetish whispers by the bums on the street. I know this for a surety because the voice of Trey Songz; your favourite artiste was enough to hold you captive for a zillion years. The last time i complained about how you dedicated so much time to a dude who only existed in your iPod, to the detriment of I, you whispered in very apologetic tones, you said, "His songs are so soothing, they calm my nerves" but all i heard was "He calms my nerves". I guess my musky voice upsets your stomach then.

That day however, your eyes still served you right, so you would clearly remember when that bearded dude driving an LR3, slowed to a stop in front of us, no in front of you and absented his eyes from me and our entwined hands. He claimed to need directions, although all his attention was fixed on your oval face and gigantic boobs at the same time. He ravished you with a lusty gaze, but i stood there like a rock, acting unfazed by this affront on my masculinity. Remember you told me to always keep my cool, after that day when my fist had loosened the tooth of that fool who whistled at your butt.

The Story of Stories

THE STORY OF STORIES

I want to tell a story; to grab a pen and sketch a tale in blues, to grab a thought, dole it out into liveable characters and stream their thoughts through my thoughts. I will give it life, plausible existence welling from my imaginations, form a world constructed in words and give life beyond the life I’ve been given. The tale might be beyond or below my existence, but it whelms would be far from the mundanely existences that clouds my bay and I would strive to imagine beyond sight, beyond senses and beyond the natural occurrences of this world, even the mystified ones. Yet my tale must be plausible.

For sensibility, thought is required, as thoughts are streamlined in tunes of senses, emotions and contemplations. But for plausibility, relativity is required, and relativity is self, perception and a merger of senses, knowledge and understanding. Now I wonder if plausibility is beyond imaginations or if imaginations are beyond plausibility, if a man’s believability is relative to his imaginations, or to his knowledge; the scope of his understanding.

Suicidal - a Poem

For all those who feel like taking the quick exit to life, don't! our hearts are with you, we love you and all you need to do is to share. Life is much too beautiful to be spent on dying. #Love

Suicidal

she said she is suicidal,
that one day
she would drop off the earth,
like a ripe mango fruit.

unannounced, uncelebrated,
quietly, she would slip
through the back door
into oblivion
into eternity.

The rainbow does envy her - a poem

The rainbow does envy her

Beauty adorns her on every side,
it stalks her like a shadow in the happy sun.
The gape of her teeth reflects the depth of her innocence,
Her smile is the breaking dawn
after a moody night,
it brightens up everyone on its path.

Nature must be partial,
else, why did it bestow her with such fine legs and a graceful gait?
For even the rainbow does envy her.

Fixedly she set her eyes on my masculinity, sending a thousand ripples through the length of my spine.
My feet wobbled in a feverish dance.

Lady, you are a million imperfections locked into a body of perfection,
and to have you by my side,
the beginning and end of all my intention.
I Love you Nifemi,
You really are the one for me,
And i brace,
For the day, you'd offer your embrace.

Some of our readers sent in beautifully crafted Poems for Easter.

Easter

On Easter we celebrate love,
love coming down from heaven,

love blanketing the earth
in a transforming embrace;
unique and infinite love,

giving more than we can imagine
for us, to cleanse our sin,

a perfect sacrifice, Lamb of God,
the walking, talking Word.

He is teacher, role model, friend,
this God in human form,

dying, then rising from the dead,
proving all who believe

will also rise
to have eternal life, with Him,

Lord of all.
Oh, Happy, Happy Easter

~Laura~

Death was his birth

Heaven's where he rests
But we remember him
Worship him
Son of the Nephilim.

Holiness was his crime
Still he owed no dime
With miracles and signs
He upheld the laws of the land
His greatness is far more than that of optimus prime.
The blind:
got salvation from the cuticles of his hands.

When the snakes come at night,
And you want to test his might,
Call up his name in the thick of the night,
Then pause for the strike as thunder ignites
The chains of death as the saviour arise.

So as Easter ends
and the drumsticks digest
Have no fear, the father is here
Guarding our heads and guiding our steps
Joy to the world for her beauty is here
Shout out to God because Easter is here.

~Dayo~

Please share among your social networks.

Contact me on Email at favouronyeoziri@gmail.com
                  Or
Bbm via 7c6f5de2

Nigeria: The Break Of Dawn

We have come to a point in the history of our beloved country where the level of political consciousness and participation is like never before. Since independence in 1960, this country as we know it has survived fifty-four years of both civilian and military rule. In spite of the numerous challenges and problems that have bedeviled Her, She has emerged stronger and better over the decades.

In 1962-63, the Nation was plunged into  a crisis, following the regional disagreements over the figures which followed the Census exercise of 1962 and a repeat exercise in 1963. This crisis and the irregularities that encumbered the 1964 general elections and 1965 western regional elections all ensued into serious socio-political disorder which culminated in the Nzeogwu coup of January 15, 1966.

From this point onwards, the Nation's political scene grossly degenerated into a state of inter-ethnic suspicion and inter-tribal hatred. By July 30, 1966, a counter-coup had already been executed, ushering in a military Government led by Gowon.

It is, therefore, upon the issues which followed Gowon's ascent that I write this article.

Upon the emergence of Gowon as the Military head of state of Nigeria, some Northerners felt it was time to embark on a pogrom against their Eastern counterparts. The targeted mass slaughtering of Igbos resident in the North eventually culminated in the Nigerian Civil war, a ravaging Holocaust which lasted three years; costing the nation millions in Human capital and setting the economy back by several years. It is imperative, however, to state that all these destructions could have been prevented if the North had adopted the spirit of good sportsmanship, by reining the natural human urge of being overtly excited by victory and power.

Today, some forty-eight years later, history has successfully replayed itself, but in an unarguably better and democratic manner this time. Even more fortunate for us is the fact that this time around, the country is inhabited, not by ethnic and religious bigots, but by a more educated, enlightened and tolerant citizenship.

Despite the fact that we have come a long way in our quest for national integration and unity, it still burdens my heart to find a few extremist and discordant elements amongst us. These are the people who do not understand the concept of democracy and electoral laws. It is imperative to state that in every election, the constitution empowers qualified adult citizens to either run for elective posts, participate as part of the electorate or better still engage in both roles. The choice of candidate is solely done based on the discretion of the individual or group as the case may be. This right to elect a political candidate of your choice should be universally respected and tolerated by others, even if it conflicts with their own choice .

It is now clear that the recent presidential election which had about fourteen contenders has ended with a clear cut winner emerging the most victorious at the polls. However, it is worthy of note to state that there is no victor or vanquished; in the words of the General himself, "it is a collective victory for all Nigerians".

After so many decades of getting it wrong, the ideals and principles of democracy is finally beginning to reflect in our electoral processes.
After fifty-four years of existence, the voices of the common man is beginning to get heard by the political aristocrats. From this point onwards, our leaders would no longer take the opinions of the masses with levity. Through the medium of this election, we have sent a very strong message to the political elite. Power can no longer be grabbed at will using military force, neither can elections be manipulated to suit any single individual or political cabal.

Furthermore, this new development in our political frontier  is, undoubtedly, a prayer answered.  We only aspire for a replication of such improvements in every other area of our nation's multifaceted fronts.

On a conclusive note, I advice every citizen of this great country to embrace this new phenomenon with open arms, keen eyes and critical minds.
Our roles as patriotic citizens of this Nation does not end with filing out under the fiery sun or heavy rain to thumbprint every four years. Our service to this country is a continuum which involves the constant probing, criticism, appreciation and encouragement of our leaders to not only perform, but to also exceed expectations.

The result of this election is a victory for the suffering masses and the civil servants, the unemployed graduates and the generator-powered businesses, the outcome of this poll is a victory for us all and for democracy in Nigeria. Therefore, instead of engaging one another in childish, pedantic and derogatory debates about whose candidate won or lost, our focus should be redirected to the challenges of the near future and the fountain of positive change we all gravely thirst for.
I enjoin us all to buckle our seat belts, so that when the wind of change and transformation blows, none of us would be caught napping.

Onyeoziri Favour
(Writer, poet and blogger
Rouvafe.blogspot.com)

This poem is dedicated to the over 145 victims of a terrorist attack on a Kenyan University Yesterday. RIP

On April 2, 2015, terrorists attacked a Kenyan University Campus, fatally shooting hundreds and injuring many others in the process. This poem is dedicated to the 147 dead and several other injured victims of the Garissa University College, Kenya.

Dying young
Flags fly in half mast,
barely able to dance to the
sardonic rhyme of the air's dirge.
The crows shed tears of sorrow.
oh! how prematurely they have been
reaped - leaders of tomorrow.

Death wore four innocent faces,
to disguise the sinister
nature of its mission,
They sneaked into a University campus,
and made a happy nation bitter.

Four index fingers pulled four triggers,
they fed the bellies of the innocent with hot lead.
147 smiles, crying to their graves; untimely.
We shall not cower, we fear not,
until we pull off these societal weeds
and make them pay
for the innocent they made bleed

Onyeoziri Favour
(Writer, poet and blogger at
Rouvafe.blogspot.com)

2 Poems to honour Christ this Easter

Among Christian circles, today is known as Good Friday, the day Jesus Christ was supposed to have been crucified over 2,000 years ago. These poems serves as a tribute to our messiah this easter.

Jesus' Love

Crucify him! rent the atmosphere.
this rabid mob bubbled
with the energy of injustice.

Crucify him! their voices laced with anger.
I took up my hammer
and nailed in a six inch into his palm
I felt no remorse.

Crucify him! spittle flew from their mouths
their eyes reddened with rage.
If you were Pontius Pilate,
would you do otherwise?
yet he cried forgive them lord.

accursed, he hung on the cross
and absolved them of intent for their crime
he said;
father, they know not what they are doing.

The Saviour at Easter

An immortal terminated by mortality,
The holy book testifies to how
He forfeited His glorious position,
To thread the path of dust, flesh and blood.

Their feet emersed in a bowl half-filled,
A fine towel of silk weave held in his hands,
Each foot he cleansed, then the other,
A certain peter mockingly opted for a bath.
He laughed it off. He taught them an invaluable lesson in humility.

A certain one among you would betray me.
They all asked is it 'I'.
The last time his divine cheeks were kissed
Was the last time he kissed freedom bye.

Today, he trudges through the streets,
A heavy cross resting on his shoulders.
No one volunteered to volunteer,
So Joseph of Aramathea was forcefully invited to help him out,
Lest he expired, before hanging on the tree,
As a cursed Man, for the expiation of our sins.