Grey's Book Club

He didn't kiss me hard so I wasn't afraid of my lips swelling. He kissed me with care Chasing away the fear He took his time not to hurt me The gentility, kindnesses, nothing to worry. When he went slowly, I was afraid he would stop. But if he went too quickly My heart would swoon and drop. Too bad it was all a dream. A vivid reality, locked in a bizarre realm. I can't stop crying, Or maybe I should But the tears keep spilling, The heart keeps breaking Reminding me of why I should have ran. The world keeps spinning The tears keep falling Reminding me of how it began. I promised myself to be strong. It wouldn't hurt anymore Now I've broken my promise, I am wrong. Because of him, the runaway love. Kolapo Zainab Bibitayo

I see blue instead of gold The colors of darkness therein unfolds. But, What's the color of darkness? Brown? This depends on what color dampens the sun from the mirrors of your eyes. Which may be mostly yellow . Or white, or gold... But when you are blind, It is a black that's bold. Or shades of grey and gray Or stinging red rays Blood shot marble stars The eye cells dancing apart Like the fusion of rainbow With a spear shot from the rain's bow. Pouring colors all over Or making them disappear Like they fade into the moon Or they are shadowed by the sky's duvet. Or buried                 When no light reaches        Or no life breathes Or no yellow           No green Just different shade of darkness       Dawn dark Dusk dark      Or Midnight dark. No other color but black darkness. Or blue darkness          Li...

All I had was a box of tissue, Damaged. All I had was my pillow to cry on, Frustrated. All I had was my diary to share my woes with. Alone. September 6, I was exactly fourteen When I was made into a thing My dad was two years dead And my mum was just wedded He snuck into my room And ever since, my nights spelled D-O-O-M Fifteen, I topped the list of abortion Oh! Not again! I can’t find my menstruation! Many would wonder, If sharing my story is such a hard task. I would have told my mother, But she’s forcefully eloping with breast cancer. Hoping the days would flash back. I had nowhere to go And my light ceased to glow He keeps coming I became tired of running. She is the sunshine in my day But her lover (cancer) is selling her to death without pay She was all the joy I could get But her life ticks to sunset I feel dead already I feel empty and shady I have no future; There is no dream to nurture! So painful; All I had was knife to slit my w...

Grey's Book Club Weekly Journal I'm Scared. Of the untold slavery beginning to swallow Africa, The dominant greed, Our leaders' creed, The stupidity in erotica, That has made them sell souls and destinies of those unborn. And we youths, we no get sense, So we pounce on crumbs of pseudo-sense, The ones we find anywhere, everywhere, That suits that wound,  the one we lick, there and here,  As we click, foolery bound. I am scared, of this directionless mass, Of black skins. Sons of warriors, of brilliance, no talk maths, Intelligence space bound, From black wrinkled faces, All now flushed down the anals of time, In gulps and drags of mixtures only the Ill took, in severe cases. Soon you'll be reclining in those seats, Like uncle Taju, And chidubem's mum, Cursing on the government, How we have embezzled the money, The one some people's father have stowed away, Lying to you in big English terms, Like "bilateral relationship,Multinational frontier pacts"...

Grey's Book Club Weekly Journal Breathe in the fresh air, Put your mind at ease. Let down your hair, Let it flow in the breeze. Let your eyes wander To all the beauty to be seen. If those toxic thoughts you still do ponder, Then let out a scream. Scream until the pain is gone, Until you no longer feel afraid. Open your eyes to a new dawn, Let the darkness fade. No longer compare yourself Or your flaws to others' perfections. Take the negativity off the shelf. Focus on your direction. Pick the sadness up off the floor, Sweep it into the wind. Close the door on self-hatred. Never let it back in. For the lies it would often tell you, You will no longer agree. Happiness and love are what you should hold onto. They are whom you should give the key. Pay no attention to the toxic thoughts, Listen to those who adore everything you are, and will be. Over thinking was what you once were taught, But now those thoughts you put in a jar. Focus on your goals...

  Grey's Book Club Weekly Journal A lonely trip down a memory lane that has drifted to oblivion; A journey back to when I was created; A journey to the newly found self, Or the one that was left on the shelf. My heart skips a beat when I think about it, And fear grips me from the pits of my soul, My feet trembles,  and my hands dances to the rhythm of my heartbeat.  What would I take to meet the one who created this creativity out of me? I know I am a prototype; a masterpiece But I know to fear my creator, I know to fear he who made me a living example? What happens when a masterpiece stops living? Few of my dear ones accompany me to the gates of my demise A masterpiece soon to be buried An image of perfect mastery, running out of oxygen, and clawing onto life My six feet mansion, yet a confinement to me and nothing but what made me. In this mansion they say is my eternal If I bring something worthwhile, The walls widen for me. If I bring not...

Click on the image to download available chapters Mother said to always make a prayer every night, and stick to it. She made me promise that when God answered that special prayer, and I am blessed with such bounties, I would never misuse the opportunity and would always use it for kindness. The problem with sticking to one prayer was that it was just one and direct, you don't get the chance to make modifications; at least that was what I was told. God was the all hearing, and he would answer as many prayers as possible, but one prayer was all it took to make it all work. It was the power of the word 'amen' that sealed the request.             Mother shielded us from the demons of the society, she made us believe that there wasn’t such a thing as intense suffering and pain. She made us understand that in every situation, one would find the light and God was the light. So, growing up wasn't as tough as it seemed, because th...

1. EGO This piece is for my ego that criticizes others for the mistakes it only recently stopped making, for depending too much while raising the flags of independence, screaming for immunity. This piece is for my ego that just became what it is because others had let it down so many times, and when it climbed back up, it rockets to the skies, never to come down again. This piece is for my ego, the hypocritical bastard that pretends not to care, but deeply worries about how humanity threads the edge of oblivion. This piece is for my ego, the self centered subconscious that is well aware of the mistakes I make, yet gives a perfect excuse to carry on. This piece is for my ego that shelters the abilities of mischief, yet treads with grace on thorns that pricks all the way to the spine. This piece is for my ego, that tells openly what I despise, yet accompanies me to do the same to others, with the reasons that I have withstood the same. This piece is for my ego, that won...