Sitting on the pot, you don’t even know it. it’s porcelain, it’s gold, it’s coldyou don’t even know it if you’re about that life then you know it, a slice, a piece, you don’t even know it   Advertisements

body snatchers (hail to jay z, hail to nick flynn)

them body snatchers! na dem dey steal body, gbomo gbomo, dey steal pikin shrill screaming from rigid finger reeds, our mommies sing what about the babies? whose eyes sink further into a fat fluid face, the sun out of focus the loud explosions of words, the laughter a sword that cries as a camcorder records […]

some of the things achebe and soyinka made me remember

a stripe struck all over the sand, swept with broomsticks welded at their tips together with black rubber, now a broom, no technology can change that, swiffer mops can’t handle nigerian dirt tiger clawed into soft clods, housegirls still wear clogs, like its hip like yesterday their madams just came back from a europe college […]