JENNIE IFEATU

Take me to David Perhaps he might teach my heart to speak I have no tears to spill But this unsettling This cross This crucifix Given to deficient omniscient beings How is it carried? I walk through pews To get to him To explain that these shoes do not fit I hear no voice All that echoes is nothingness My ears are tingled by a whisper "Crowns are crucifix" Who makes crowns out of crosses? The back does not fit Yet each one has a peculiar one Which you must carry to Golgotha Before the morning rises Woe betide you If the cross kiss not the sun This unsettling eats deep like worms But according to the testament of this unknown scroll, we must work

I think we all need concrete stones. Am I making any sense? You don't think so but the fact is that irrespective of if you are a civil engineer or currently  erecting a building of your own , we all need concrete stones. I had once seated in a social studies class and listened to my teacher telling us how lucky we were at the time for being the 'Jet age kids.' This apparently meant we had technology working for us. Then my eyes widened and litted up as she proceeded to tell us about the Stone age and the evolution of man. I can't deny the fact that I have always been a curious person. The part that really engaged me was how early men struck concrete stones against each other to make fire. It still fascinates me. At that moment I craved a first hand experience of hunting games and striking concrete stones to make fire and have them roasted. So my conclusion of that narrative as a child was that the two stones just had to be what I called 'small fires...

I am a unapologetic serial cheat and won't be repenting soon but before you whip out your phone to call me to provide you a long list of all my cheating partners or mutter "Oh my God!" Let me share the details of the shady ordeal with you. I have been cheating on the Sciences with the Art for a long time. All efforts to make me back off has proven futile.  I have had this conversation a couple of exhausting time with friends and family. This brings to memory that you should never give up on the pursuit that makes your blood rush. I like to fantasize and sometimes I picture myself as a granny with grey hair penning down stories that my grandchildren would read and it 'd make them proud. So, it is a lifelong engagement. I don't know exactly why I am doing this but I feel someone who is still battling between two camps might need to see this. Don't be deceived. People still follow their dreams. When I thought about doing this piece I remembered ...

I don't say what's up. I say What's new? Have you seen "I AM NOT PCOS" Its a short spoken word video describing the challenges of women living with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and encouraging them to live out their best life.

I was I am I may never be But when it goes frosty Remember I was the one who tickled the sea The sea has no tranquility Just filled with nothing but blue And a depth that takes even the strong It took him A year later, it was her Now their touch I may never feel Tag me as the one who tickled the sea Possessing beauty not realised Hiding peace to feign being demonized But I know I walked through her Remember I tickled the sea So when the ships fail to sail When fishes find another niche When blue loses its allure Allow this sink in the eyes of your mind I was the iceberg that tickled the sea

Eko Atlantic What makes you tick? Though I may never substitute you for tea Awe grips my waist when your figure is all I see Why do the might plunge into you Is there any peace buried beneath the surface view Tell me Tell even me I count them as men eaten as sacrificed food Couldn't you have advised them for good? Men far away from wives Toil and freeze while the sea breeze their face wipes You are beautiful Were you told? Forgive for me, for I am careless and lost my manners Will you permit me to sketch your perfect body on global banners.

Teased by illusions  Tickled by threats  Yet this path I must thread  She says nothing  But her eyes speak all I need Perhaps words are vain  Words might be vain Yet in them I found a terrain  Have you ever seen the mountain top?  They are nothing close to the roof tops Impossibility is a thug Growling and staring me in the eye I have fallen in and out of love with life There is a transparent stream running through you All I have ever longed for lies in you   I am careless I have misplaced it a million times  Yet I find it in diverse crystallised balls again.