Because he was different, the bus conductor let a lofty hope bud within him, a hope too high for his type: love.
Because he was different, the bus conductor let a lofty hope bud within him, a hope too high for his type: love.
I was aware of the ostracism and persecution that atheism invites in a hyper-religious country like Nigeria.
Now every alphabet of your mis-branding is peeled away by the salt of time
It had been three months since the last time I heard Om Sagda’s screams. I marked those empty days on the calendar.
We will forget the death that now stinks up the city centre, dark hallways into the doors of offices
Despite Nigeria’s rich oral traditions, I daresay that the culture of producing albums in the spoken word genre remains underdeveloped.
I may say I tried the best I could to stifle an instinct But the quiet invitation of your transparent gown…
