Wednesday, 18 April 2018


Growing up in my side of town has never been the best, the divisions that lay in our midst was wider than the gap between heaven and hell if indeed there is one. I always had a taste of the bad side of life, even though I knew it had good sides, but what good is good if evil prevails?
Toby and I grew up struggling to make something out of our lives; no one wanted to remain in that part of town. Of course you’re wondering the name of my town, where’s the fun if I tell you now? I remember the days of torn socks and open shoes and the mockery by the rich kids of how we would never know what life with affluence meant.
The days with no school bags and the polythene bags which we were so grateful to have. The days where having to eat a bowl of rice felt like manna from above. Little to no protein is what I grew up with, my tiny legs and protruding stomach, malnutrition was always around the corner, lurking and waiting for the right time to step in.
The leaking roofs and tattered clothes. Oh the joy of having new worn clothes of the rich kids, and shoes that you would forever be grateful for. But the rich had a game, we were the pawns and they were king.  I knew I wanted more than to die in my side of town, I knew life could be better than I had known it as; I knew I had to be smart, not just academically but “street-wise” too. So I decided to learn from the rich, their ways and patterns, the good, the bad and the ugly, for like chameleons, so they were, changing their attitudes along with time and the circumstances it brought.
As luck would have it, heaven remembered me. I made a great name for myself, now, I am called “the rich and powerful”. The hustle behind the name is known to only a few. The pain and sacrifices, with academics doing so little. I learnt to survive, not just for myself but for the family.
Now I sit here in my flat, reminiscing over the bad times and what good there is if evil prevails.
My side of town remains, A SIDE OF TOWN.

Sunday, 24 December 2017


I had a list
Not of roses or gifts, but of joy and love
Not of bags or treats, but of friends and happiness
Not to see Santa or get a tree, but to have good company and be free.
Red or green, whatever it is
All I see is teeth and smiles.

A magical Christmas with lights and fireworks
Food and dancing, Promises made and renewed
Love rekindled and hope given
Little or much, whatever is given
Still all I see is teeth and smiles.

A Christmas to remember, more like a fairy tale
Something out of a book I’d say.
Christmas melodies, musical symphonies
Spirited children with angelic voices,
Each waiting on the perfect gift from Santa

Hugs and kisses passed around
Lessons and teachings fill our ears
In the spirit of festivity I find myself
And in this I get my very own
A white Christmas.


Sunday, 3 December 2017


Flowers in my part of town never bloomed completely. Maybe if they did, they would invert the photosynthesis process and we would all be in trouble.

Toriseju was a pretty damsel from Mass Communications. She was an appropriate example of ‘beauty with brains’.
If stared at, at the right time, under the right conditions, with her being the constant K, she looked like a sculpted piece of enchanting beauty, meticulously worked upon by a sculptor with masters in his field. In addition, her voice. Oh, her voice was so holy in its own accord no doubts.
I have to admit that her beautiful cleavage got to my head. Not more than her shapely buttocks though. They complemented each other in the right way. No, not in the figure eight type of way, I am talking of holy beauty. Just like beauty in holiness. You could call it Beauty, her royal holiness. When she went on her morning jogs across campus, her body created visual images in the minds of guys. In addition, girls too. However, that made me curious. I saw women every day and that was only a slight difference that my being could cope with.
Just like caramel topping to a wonderfully baked chocolate cake, her intelligence capped her beauty in the right way. I just wanted to know her. I have to point out here that my sapiosexuality is off the charts, so it is not new for me to lose weight over intelligent women.
Show me a well-chiseled face with smoky eyes and luscious lips. A perfectly shaped body and a graceful walk and I would tell you that is pretty.
Now show me all these coupled with a good heart, good character and intelligence and that right there is the true definition of beautiful.
Toriseju was all shades of ugly in all corners of beautiful.

I was however willing to take her through the metamorphosis needed. I do not claim to be holier than thou are but I put up with all her mess and she knew.
My eyes were covered with a terribly opaque veil and my comfortability was not in question. I carried on until my well of patience began to run dry. You see, Toriseju fetched water from this well in undue excess. To bath, drink, wash and even to water the plants in her garden. I wonder now, why this was so when there was a borehole of common sense inside her father’s compound.
I have decided to cover up the well recently. I have reached out to well-known contractors, Lessons & Experiences. I believe they would do a good job in converting my well into a borehole. Luckily, Toriseju happens to have a blind mind, so she probably would see the tap. However, if she does and she can stroke it well enough to pour out its contents, then so be it.
Now that my veil is uncovered, I am going into the world in search of a beautiful woman. I know perfection is farfetched. However, I want an imperfection that is mine. Not up for grabs or sharing. In addition, I know this might seem greedy to you but to be very honest, a part of my mind wants you to burn in the uncharted parts of hell for that. However, the winning side says to let you go and care less.
As I embark on my journey, I look closely at my part of town and smile ruefully. I have never had lasting or fulfilling relationships here.
Maybe. Just maybe because flowers did not bloom completely here, that is why relationships never sailed.


Sunday, 24 September 2017


If there's a heaven for our kind
A place to unite
Where peace and purpose is all that you find
And may I remind
That we all could shine

Just a little love, encouragement and time
Where the truth isn't bitter
And the Golden memories, glitter
If I grow, you grow, we grow and we don't wither
Nor lose ourselves to desires and vanity
And the prerequisite of society
Heartaches and anxiety 

Maybe there's a place we could tender all our problems and our pain 
And get washed off of our stains 
There's a heaven for we youths 
No one has to die 'fore we live in truth

No matter the race, ethnicity and diversity in our roots
We could all sow a seed, and freedom is the fruit
So that living won't be a sin
And we all could win.

If there's a heaven for our type
Are we free to fly?
Is it safe to die, when you realise that our hope relies
On a God, a higher power, who replies
Our prayers, and out of his riches, supplies
Us a heaven, to grow, Survive.

By : Banji Sage Adeosun

Sunday, 17 September 2017


Let's get naked !
I don't mean clothes off
Pants down
And buttons flying

I want to see you naked
I want to see your soul
I want to hear your secrets
And the adventures you experience in your head

I want to hear what makes you smile
I want to know what turns you on
And I don't mean sexually

So what do you say?
I'd like to get naked.
Without clothes going off
And buttons flying.

Tuesday, 5 September 2017


Lights, Camera, Action !
Life is a stage, I'm told.
Act well and you'd be rewarded.

But I hate acting.
Let's be real
The society is full of people with fake lives
All because life is a stage.

Life is a stage, I'm told.
Be believable and you'd go places
But I don't want to go places. 
Maybe just a few places.

I'd rather remain in my comfort zone 
In my own world
With my own creation
But life is a stage.

Sunday, 3 September 2017


I wanted happily ever after.
I thought I'd be happy.
You know how in one second you think you're making the right decision but months later you find yourself wishing you could change your decision?
Well, that's my story.
I must've told you about this before since this is my 50th letter to you in one month.
I know.

It took years before finally agreeing to this and a couple of months down, I know I should’ve stayed away.
I wish I had.
Now I'm all shades of messed up.
This is going to be short cos I don't want to be dramatic.
I'm sure you hate drama. He does too.
Now I'm writing all over the place cos words fail me.

Happily ever after failed me.
So I sit here every night writing letters to ghosts.