Cry Me a River

Cry me a river; 
just don’t let it touch my seat.
I know your tear tastes sour,
although you tell me it is sweet.

Cry me a river,
cry me a river,
I’ve cried a river over you.

Cry me a river,
or you could make it two.
I’d love to swim and play in it
and be free for once from you.

Cry me a river,
cry me a river,
I’ve cried a river over you.

Cry me a river, now;
you need not speak to me.
Sweet, dangerous psychopath,
must I be you to be?

Cry me a river,
cry me a river,
I’ve cried a river over you.

Cry me a river;
let’s drown our selves in it.
You beat me till I bled, you fool,
you crossed your heart you’d quit!

Cry me a river,
cry forever and ever,
I want to feel bigger
and better like you.

💜 “I beat you because I love you so much and when you hurt me or I think you’re about to, I find it hard to control myself” and other shits.
Don’t stay for the children or the anything. Run away (with your children). Throw the whole relationship away. 

Lifeless, but Deathless

Death is the new life.
Death is the old lie-fe.
Although we become lifeless when we “die”,
we become deathless when we leave.


My gentle Oladapo is okay. He fell sick and he left me but he is okay. Bolanle is okay. She was so energetic.

Uncle Ismaila is okay. He took me to write my common entrance exam at ISI and taught me Mathematics the day before. That bread and egg and tomtom though. That year. Immediately after the exam, we began to look for where to shit. It wasn’t until we got to Osogbo where my other family members were before we “shat”. I can’t believe we held watery shit from Ibadan to Osogbo. We should have been on the Guiness Book of Records. The way we were sweating. My uncle Ismaila is okay.

Debra is okay. One day, during one of the social events at the ISI cafetaria, an A-Z list of the junior and senior students was mentioned. “As attractive as so-so-so. As beautiful as so-so-o. As creative as so-so-so. As dirty as Ronke Babajide. I was going to get some food [I stopped going for socials] at the tuck shop when I heard my name on from the speaker that could almost cover the whole school.

Gosh! I ran back to class so fast and placed my head on the table. I was so embarrassed and sad. Whoever it was that submitted my name, I hope it was worth it. It was the exact thing that I needed for the low self-esteem that I had. I, for some reason, thought being different was bad and I had to keep up. I didn’t fit in any group.

Debra was a class higher but we became friends. She didn’t let me get depressed. We would walk to the main gate together and spend our money on suya or corn. Debra even bought chicken suya for us one day. Romance-novel gang. There was always one woman that needed to be “saved” through sex but it was worth it. One day, Debra took me to watch Amos Tutuola’s “The Palm-Wine Drinkard”. Debra passed on after a car hit her. Debra is okay.

My grandmas are okay- Mama Ireakari and Mamee. My grandpa is okay. Jane Davenport is okay. She didn’t stay so I could show her how I tie my scarf, but she’s okay. My cousin’s baby is okay. Gorgeous-eyed Matt is okay.

All our “dead” relatives and friends are okay. They just don’t live with us anymore, they are living, and they are okay.


Love Can Now See; He Wants Everything.

"Bouquet' by an unknown artist

Love is not blind anymore;
I worry about the things he can see.
He does not want to talk some more;
he wants me in bed on three.
I consciously mask my imperfections
so he’ll choose and stay with me.
He says my boobs and butt are small;
I think about increasing them by three.
Our boat is on rough seas
but all he wants to do is flee.

He says he wants freedom, 
and she’s not me.

Requited lust.
Unrequited love.
It’s interesting how the lines between love and lust have been skewed.


Ilè̩ n je̩ ènìyàn.

A farmer plants and reaps his harvest.
He places seeds into the ground
and gets food in return.
Then he gives 99% of his food
to the ones who sit on the highest chairs.

Ilè̩ n je̩ ènìyàn.

One day, the ones who sit on the highest chairs
will be placed into the ground too,
properly buried, like mere seeds,
six feet under the ground,
but they will not grow back.
They will become food for the earth.

Ilè̩ n je̩ ènìyàn.

The earth feeds them,
then it eats them.




The Art of Stephen Hamilton

Protect me from life’s vanities;
guard my soul against its insecurities.
Whenever my heart goes weary and weak,
Mother, protect me from myself.

Against depression and its similarities,
in my spirit, build immunities.
Make me make a world a better place,
and breastfeed me yourself.


I’ve Carried Me for Years, My Darling


“Two Eggs (violet)” by Tom Gregg

In a world were most of us, eggs,
have been taken away from our innocence,
removed from the bosoms of our mothers,
placed outside our crates
and forced to harden up,
I want to remain as I am, as I was,
in this terribly hot conditions.
Why don’t you remain raw with me, my darling?

Although we’ve been terribly hurt,
I’ll roll to you,
and you’ll roll to me,
and when we do,
we’ll close our eyes and
swim in each other’s insides,
roll in each other’s albumen,
bungee jump on each other’s yolks.

Do you remember how you felt
the first time you were in love?
I beg you to let me love you.
I’m not going to hurt you;
I don’t want to.
Look into my eyes.
Can’t you tell that I terribly love you?
Why don’t you be vulnerable too?


When Life Gives You Melons…

When life gives you melons,
don’t confuse them for lemons:

Melons Painting

Ovanes Berberian (American, born in 1951)- “Still Life Saturday with Melons”

It’s for your good. Melons are juicy and yummy, although they don’t look like they are on the outside. When you cut them in half? Hmmn…

Not everything is planned to give you a sour life. God/the universe will always find a way to put you in the right place, whether you think it’s the right place at first or not.

Life gives you/lets you keep lemons when it lets you have the things you don’t need anymore, whether it be people or properties or positions of comfort or a kind of peace that might lead to sorrow eventually.

Persevere and endure the painful process of cutting things in half, and into different shapes, when life gives you melons. They are not lemons. You’ll see.


Changing the World

You cannot change the world but
you can change someone’s world.
Give to people in need,
with intentions as pure as can be,
and a day would finally come when
a better world would be ours to see.


We Walk Different Paths

Roses are red;
violets are blue.
I mind my business,
and so should you.

Don’t compare anyone’s life to yours. You either get an ego boost or you get your ego deflated. Neither is good.


Too Rich to Give

Poverty in the Midst of Plenty (1939)

Poverty in the Midst of Plenty (1939) by Gerard Sekoto

A poor man wakes up feeling hungry and useless.
A rich man prefers to have his meat boneless.
The poor man eats out of the rich man’s bins, homeless.
The rich man blames him for it, but the poor man is faultless.

Poor man only wants some food; he’s harmless.
He has told rich man many times- it’s countless.
He needs rich man’s attention; he’s helpless,
but rich man doesn’t care, he’s loveless.

Does wealth make a person heartless?
Someone, tell me, ’cause I’m clueless.
Does it kill a person’s sense of fairness?
Does it make a human being think less?