Kojoni

It has become common knowledge, at least to me, that the man with whom I share a surname (at least partially), was declined the chance to ascend to the presidency back in the day. The underlining story, however, could easily pass for an episode of Leverage. For those who don't know what I'm talking about, Leverage was a popular series based on modern-day Robin Hoods, that carved out very thought-out and elaborate schemes to dupe the affluent, having erred based on their own moral judgement. Except in this case, it was a one-man show with swag. Shabray paaa... What shocked me was the Trust Fund story and the bruhaha surrounding the whole thing. First off, I'm sure its something of an open secret that African dictatorships and democratic ones alike, have for ages stacked their loot in Swiss banks. From the Mobutus to the Maha.......errmm okay, that one dier I kent. Let's continue because you get my drift. In chess, one rule is true; the fact th...

How far has the corrosion gone? Maybe you and your silver coins needed some galvanization. Isn't it obvious you came up short? Not the chocolate-drop kind. Just that the accolades you wanted could easily pass for a shelter, since you stayed under. Your castles came crushing down being unfounded, when you closed your eyes all day. Maybe you misread your destiny, when it said your life would be full of dreams. Next time, you should ask the author for an abstract, just so you're apt from the start. Did you see and relay on the many diamonds that you mined in those dreams? Maybe they stayed there and became your imaginations central reserve. You better build many banks and link them with lines that would live for centuries. The horses you rode have gone with the wind that created them. Maybe next time when you saddle up, hold tight to that rein and make sure you're not catching formless forms. Thank you, that you woke up from the shut-eye that made you rich.

You say its hard being you? Try his shoes for a day. Your blisters would shape-shift your life. Imagine being a black "chelovek", with an African accent. Attempt the feat of smiling in every photo. You'll need a grayscale filter man. It's hard for this jigga The boy who hardly smiles but wants to. You know why? His near-golden congregation leaves him muted. Especially when everyone else's still dencia. Maybe he should have listened to mummy when she warned his naughty bottom. He refused, he clogged his ears with Colgate tops. Now he talks under tone, "say again?" You stooped closer to hear, oh!

I've noticed how difficult it is to speak the right words in this generation. Vulgarity seems to be the new normal, or at least, it has been accepted for decades now. It's easy to blame current musical trends and actors we so dearly admire. Like the many critical people I know, it's a personal principle of mine to speak right. That doesn't just mean alacrity; it means oratorical dignity too. Saying the f-word, or the s-word might be the current cool. But I'm sorry, let me be forever uncool and dignified in my speech. That would not only present me before kings and queens, it will force them to accord me respect. After all, Melania Trump copied Michelle Obama's speech, and not Azealia Banks' over-top rhetoric (no offense). Plus, that's what Daddy taught me. Speak right..

So here I am, staring at the gate I could easily scale over.  Oh yeah. I've gathered a wealth of experience with my own at home. It's brown, a tad higher than this one but, very shaky. You could blame it on my calculated jumps over it at odd hours. Mostly because, I didn't want anyone hearing the echoes from the gate, as I snuck out to play soccer and other things. Hehe.  "Hey! Have you been knocking for a long time? Not really. The sun is just really on fleek today'', i replied as she pulled me by my striped shirt. I bought it a week before. It was a huge day. I had to dress for memories. She wasn't looking too bad herself. The pink darted skirt she had on was a charm. I guess she was looking forward to this just as I was. So after the brief hug, I was beginning to feel nervous. The night before we spoke about what teenagers dream about, and how that we both hadn't had one yet. We sat in the brown leather couch and she asked, ...

This is just a critic of the above. It has probably come from people wanting the best. But sometimes I've heard it in a somewhat selfish breath. It's almost like anything other than what we want in specific details is a serious case of "settling". Okay...okay. Go on! Okay.. Bernoulli pick without replacement Being sure its exactly what you want -that's the caveat. A risky sum. Cure your blind heart its eyes seem redundant. For when your one appears his colors might be contrary to your canvas. Because though there are parts that can't be seen or touched, the plaudits will still ring to the waving of the fleeting rock that can. Reach for yours, please forget praying about the matter. You must deserve the party's best regardless of where it leads.

So this one time, I liked this lady who lived there. The warehouse enclave which exploded in popularity a decade ago. My grannies' house became just one more reason to pan past those fourteen feet buildings; probably holding truck loads of sardines, cement and even canned cows. But yeah, this girl made Gabrielle Union look like one of the three ugly sisters in Cinderella. Her skin tone was nearly as dark as bitumen; her neighborhood's dusty roads desperately needed that. She constantly made me feel guilty. "Ah mehnn. I'm actually bypassing the junction that leads to my grannies house, to see a lady I might not even marry? I have a problem paaa." Please, my hormones were stronger than the Spartans. Don't judge. So the " I'm going to visit a friend '' excuse I gave my parents led me there. Funny enough, I had been to her blue-gate house more times than can be counted on a baby millipede. But I always waited at the bus station and calle...