Wednesday, 14 May 2014

The Game(s)...

The rich aroma of the Cuban cigars, 
His scent, a concoction of aftershave, some pinewood cologne and a bit of sweat, 
The voice of KEM from the radio, 
And the heat from his palm, 
Possessively placed on her thigh, 
Intoxicated her.

He has been asking for a mere peck on the cheek the whole night, 
She had constantly said No, 
He said she was killing him, 
She smiled coyly at him, 
Batting her lashes, feigning innocence.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her, 
Or more.

He ran his hand up and down her inner thigh, 
She gasped,
His hands were soft, 
And hot, 
And making her lose control.

But she told him to stop, 
He groaned, reluctantly taking his hand from her thigh, 
Whoa, he looked totally hurt, 
The spot where his hand had been burning her, 
Suddenly became cold, 
A shiver ran down her spine.

She started conjuring hot crazy images in her mind, 
Him on her, 
Her on him.

His voice brought her back to reality, 
'I'm leaving' he said.
He sounded pretty disappointed, and she knew she had taken it too far.

When he least expected it, 
She grabbed him by the collar, 
Drew his face to her, 
Met his lips, 
Drank from them as if thirsty, 
Making love to them lips, 
And tasting him over and over again.

She broke the kiss, 
Opened the car door, 
Slipped out and strode towards her apartment without a backward glance.

She knew he had not started the car, 
She knew he was staring at her, 
She smiled, swayed her hips and let herself Into her house.

Sunday, 4 May 2014

My... errrrm...right

So yesterday, while still reeling from the eargasmic performance by the Burkinabe-Zim outfit,  Sowe, which had performed in the Coca-Cola Green, there was an announcement which caught my attention.

There was an on-going  'promo' where one would give 'One 
 square centimeter' of their skin for Human rights in the form of getting inked. 

The flyer read  'To create awareness for Human rights, we are going to tattoo the Universal Declaration of Human rights, all 6773 letters of it, on 6773 individuals worldwide.'

Now, I'm not a human rights lawyer or one of those actively involved in NGOs pushing such and such agendas for ’human rights'.

But I'm human, and I have rights, yes, including the right to get inked.

See, I have always wanted to get inked but a couple of things held me back. ..I didn't know if I could stand the pain, I didn't know where to find a proper tattoo artist who wouldn't mess me up...and well, opinions of the society.

So I told this lady excitedly, that I was gonna get inked, then she got into this whole lecture of how my body was a temple and shouldn't be desecrated. FOH, what desecration? !!

And this coming from someone who had been imbibing the wise waters of Pilsner, huh  *I sniggered*  what worse desecration than that? ! I see she  had her judgmental pants all hoicked up to the armpits…SMH.

And she goes on yapping about how we shouldn't disobey God by adding foreign irrems on our bodies. *and she is staring hard at my nose stud*.

I kept myself in check, for I was about to roll my eyes at her.

She is rocking a weave, nail polish aaaand has earrings for God's sake, yet she is sitting there giving me an earful about foreign irrems what what...the damn irony.

The retort at the tip of my tongue is 'Guuuurl' *in Madea's voice. 'Were you born with that hideous synthetic weave on? '

So people quoting this ‘don't decorate the temple and yada yada what not’, listen, yes my body is a temple, and I shall decorate it.

Literal sense for some of us….you have been in temples, chapels, cathedrals and what have you? Aren’t they decorated with murals, frescoes, tinted windows and more? And then?

Live a little, if you can't, let others live, to get inked, byeeee :)

Friday, 2 May 2014


After reading Haziey's post on Tracy Chapman, something in me stirred, the words talked to my heart;it was like she took my thoughts and put them on paper...I could relate.

I went to my play list and selected Tracy's music, listening to one song after another, and re-reading Haziey's post, savoring the words,sinking into the emotions they evoked.

One great song led to another till I found myself listening to Daughtry...Well, now we come to the crux of the matter!
Photo courtesy of

DAUGHTRY, this American rock band formed and fronted by Chris Daughtry, a finalist of the fifth edition of American Idols. I love Daughtry's music....Chris Daughtry's voice coupled with his Vin Diesel typpa bald head and looks! Yeah!

Well I wasn't aware of this phenomenal group and their crazy crazy tunes till 2011-nish. Yeah yeah yeah *rolls eyes*. My then lover introduced me to Daughtry in the form of the song September from the album Leave This Town

This became Our Song! September! We listened to it over and over again! Abused it so...

As our love for Daughtry  grew, we started listening to more songs by them...Tennessee Line, Life After You, Call Your Name, Learn my Lesson and more.

Thing is, I can listen to Daughtry anytime, in any mood and still get moved by the music. 

Some songs make you shed a tear, some make you smile, some make you feel like you are totally invincible!

There is this beautiful song....The Start of Something Good off the album Break The Spell, my my my! Now the video is equally beautiful...with Chris and that his bald head (yeah that) and his guitar, sitting on the hood of that vintage automobile...

Hoo Fadha! Why can't I get somebody to sing their soul out like that for me...serenading me under my window like they do in movies and fairy tales....ok ok, I will stop!

The video gets me all mushy and shit, makes me think of lying down in the grass with my significant other, under the azure sky, let the world and all the bad painful things go past us, soaking in the ambiance of our love.

Some people say this genre is for white folk...I say FOH, this is my genre, I LOVE ROCK, Daughtry to be specific. 

This human who introduced me to the awesome sounds of Chris Daughtry, we are nolonger together... But we still talk. He might after a loooong time just send a text saying, I'm listening to September or The Start Of Something Good and it would be enough,enough, not to make me miss him but to remind me of the crazy beautiful times we had and appreciate life more.

Now, I don't have a favourite Daughtry song, asking me to choose would be asking me to well *inserts some intelligent statement here* . In lower elementary school maths we would say, IT CAN'T.

I listen to Traitor when I feel betrayed and trying to calm my nerves...I listen to Learn my Lesson when a lover does me wrong...the song being a way of indirectly telling myself 'I told you so.'

Life After You...well this song is major (I would probably say so about...errrr...all Daughtry songs) also reminds me of this girl, a kindred spirit whose love for the Rock band probably matches mine....I listen to it and find myself missing her *shed a thug tear*.

I would go on and on, but I'm freezing my ass out here, as I found the doors locked at home and am sitting on the door step like some hobo.

Lemme play a little bit of music....well the song that comes out tops is Broken Arrows by Daughtry....

"And I'm tired of taking my aim
When I keep on missing
There's gotta be a better way

There's gotta be a better way........

So baby hold on
But I'm shooting with broken arrows

Thursday, 1 May 2014

Of Adonis and more...

Caught staring once,
Or twice,
No reprimand,
Instead I'm rewarded with a sexy dreamy smile,
Which made my insides melt and quiver. 

Limbs deliciously sore, 
Throbbing from the very core,
I stare and wonder how this yummy Adonis got into my bed,
Boy is such a fiiine human,
I run my hands across his chest to make sure he is real,

Without opening his eyes,
He sighed, shifted and put an arm around me,
I arched my back,
Put my head on his chest,
And listened to his heart-rate slow down to normal again.

In my bliss, I drifted off to sleep, a smile playing on my lips.

Hours later, woke up,
In the dark, cold and alone in bed,
Except for a hurriedly scribbled note,
Stating that he did not want to disturb me from my  'beautiful' slumber,
No  'I love you'
No  'You were awesome in bed'
No talk of when I would see him again.

Pulled the covers to my chin,
Fighting back tears,
Anger and shame welling up,
Memories of that afternoon's encounter crushing me.

Just then the door burst open,
And in strode  Adonis,
Carrying a shopping bag full of garlic rolls,
French sticks,
And more.

Relief surged through me,
I stretched out,
And purred contentedly,
Prompting him to drop everything and come towards me in purposeful strides,
A smile on his lips,
And that hot hot look in his eyes!