Lift my transgressions like scoops of mud with shovels and pile on my decomposing flesh.
Bury away my memory and moans so you may rise on the third day in saintly Ascension, Christlike and free of memory.
Tuesday, 10 July 2018
On Transgression Day
Bury me in the multitude of my sins.
Lift my transgressions like scoops of mud with shovels and pile on my decomposing flesh.
Bury away my memory and moans so you may rise on the third day in saintly Ascension, Christlike and free of memory.
Lift my transgressions like scoops of mud with shovels and pile on my decomposing flesh.
Bury away my memory and moans so you may rise on the third day in saintly Ascension, Christlike and free of memory.
Friday, 27 April 2018
An inquiry into a Nigerian usage; Humility.
Why.
Why is it that whenever you scrutinise the narrative about a Nigerian's 'humility' you'll find him/her constantly debasing him/herself to appear acceptable and relatable to others, and often when Nigerians say 'so and so is very REAL' they meant to translate real to mean ghetto, crass, and broke ( or at least rich but behaving as though you are broke).
Why is it that whenever you scrutinise the narrative about a Nigerian's 'humility' you'll find him/her constantly debasing him/herself to appear acceptable and relatable to others, and often when Nigerians say 'so and so is very REAL' they meant to translate real to mean ghetto, crass, and broke ( or at least rich but behaving as though you are broke).
Wednesday, 25 April 2018
Questions
Why do bad things happen to good people? What reward await suffering here on Earth?
For hours now I've been lying on my favourite sheets, thinking. Prior that I'd woken from two dreams. In the first, a gang of robbers had attacked and stollen my car and my phone. Then proceeded to leak unclothed photos of me on my Facebook after threatening an ex of mine to pay them not to and he refused. In the second dream I saw a crowd surrounding a man beating a Caucasian looking woman with no one raising a voice or a finger to help her. I couldn't penetrate the ring of lookon crowd so I ran up and down the street begging for people to come so we can help her...
So, why do bad things happen to good people? First off, I have noticed that I live in a society were people are either too lazy to question things or ask for explanations on things that concern them. This is worse when the subject matter or the being asked the question is God. People are swift to ask you to shut your questions away from God when you ask about the 'why's'. They are not too meek to ask the God to bless them though.
I've had this question in my head for like forever. Why do bad things happen to good people, especially people who believe in an all round superior being with the power to cause a thing to being, or not.
Why? Why do a merciful God turn his back on a helpless subject,
why?
Why do good people suffer all of life's pains and evil men go free?
why?
Because I was
raised very Christian, my brain auto corrects my inquiry with biblical references on this 'why, one of such examples is the story of Job.
See, Job is possibly the authority on senseless pain met on a righteous man without his participation or consent. In the Bible, the book of Job Is the story of a godly and righteous man with everything, that became the subject of a bet between God and the devil. The only person that lost everything in the bet was Job. God permitted the Devil to destroy everything job had. Health, Riches, killed his grown up children, everything!
Don't worry though. At the end of the bet after Job did not still 'curse' God, God gave him a second chance at acquiring the health and children and health and everything. It all worked out at the end for Job. Right? And this, my dear, is the default response you will get from an average Christian when you question your pain alongside biblical references.
Men are clay.
Men are nothing before God. When you are tempted with pain, endure it, thank him. whenever you are tempted with or given pleasure, enjoy it. Give thanks.
We are nothing.
We are possibly at the losing end of a bet at all times when we are feeling grave pain. Right? OK.
Now, unto my second wandering, what reward await suffering on earth?
Many religions have devised a clever response to that question. Sufferers get go to a special place called heaven or something close depending on the diction used. Like Job, if we do not question our gambler, we get to get it easy in a next life right? Ok.
Splendid.
So when does the good ferry come in for hurting people here on earth?
Job got ten fold of the things he lost. All his children, grown up children with memories died for a bet. He had more as reward. But any parent who had lost children or grown adult kids will tell you having more kids never fully heals their broken hearts, never takes the loss away, never kills the memory of the dead...
who also thinks like I do that Job was a broken man even after the kids came the second time?
And why do humans still insist on their worthlessness even when same person could tell you that God so loved humans that he sent a Godson just to die and cleans humans? Why are we encouraged to fear even with all the touted love and mercy?
And why do bad things happen to good people? What reward awaits suffering here on earth?
Still musing on The story of the biblical Job:
Why!
Why wasn't the pain of the mother of Job's kids considered in the equation when God and the Satan were betting and gambling on Job's faith? The kids were hers too. She birthed them. Suffered through pregnancy and childbirth. Carried the scares of having nurtured them into adulthood. Their memories were hers too!
Why wasn't the children themselves spared on their own recognizance?
Why weren't they shown mercy and love and the promise of long life?
And when the mother spoke through her pain, she was killed, and job married another woman (women) to procreate the second set of children abi? Right
The bet between God and Satan wasn't theirs. But they paid ultimately for it. Why?
Why?
I should stop thinking aloud now. I am so spent.
For hours now I've been lying on my favourite sheets, thinking. Prior that I'd woken from two dreams. In the first, a gang of robbers had attacked and stollen my car and my phone. Then proceeded to leak unclothed photos of me on my Facebook after threatening an ex of mine to pay them not to and he refused. In the second dream I saw a crowd surrounding a man beating a Caucasian looking woman with no one raising a voice or a finger to help her. I couldn't penetrate the ring of lookon crowd so I ran up and down the street begging for people to come so we can help her...
So, why do bad things happen to good people? First off, I have noticed that I live in a society were people are either too lazy to question things or ask for explanations on things that concern them. This is worse when the subject matter or the being asked the question is God. People are swift to ask you to shut your questions away from God when you ask about the 'why's'. They are not too meek to ask the God to bless them though.
I've had this question in my head for like forever. Why do bad things happen to good people, especially people who believe in an all round superior being with the power to cause a thing to being, or not.
Why? Why do a merciful God turn his back on a helpless subject,
why?
Why do good people suffer all of life's pains and evil men go free?
why?
Because I was
See, Job is possibly the authority on senseless pain met on a righteous man without his participation or consent. In the Bible, the book of Job Is the story of a godly and righteous man with everything, that became the subject of a bet between God and the devil. The only person that lost everything in the bet was Job. God permitted the Devil to destroy everything job had. Health, Riches, killed his grown up children, everything!
Don't worry though. At the end of the bet after Job did not still 'curse' God, God gave him a second chance at acquiring the health and children and health and everything. It all worked out at the end for Job. Right? And this, my dear, is the default response you will get from an average Christian when you question your pain alongside biblical references.
Men are clay.
Men are nothing before God. When you are tempted with pain, endure it, thank him. whenever you are tempted with or given pleasure, enjoy it. Give thanks.
We are nothing.
We are possibly at the losing end of a bet at all times when we are feeling grave pain. Right? OK.
Now, unto my second wandering, what reward await suffering on earth?
Many religions have devised a clever response to that question. Sufferers get go to a special place called heaven or something close depending on the diction used. Like Job, if we do not question our gambler, we get to get it easy in a next life right? Ok.
Splendid.
So when does the good ferry come in for hurting people here on earth?
Job got ten fold of the things he lost. All his children, grown up children with memories died for a bet. He had more as reward. But any parent who had lost children or grown adult kids will tell you having more kids never fully heals their broken hearts, never takes the loss away, never kills the memory of the dead...
who also thinks like I do that Job was a broken man even after the kids came the second time?
And why do humans still insist on their worthlessness even when same person could tell you that God so loved humans that he sent a Godson just to die and cleans humans? Why are we encouraged to fear even with all the touted love and mercy?
And why do bad things happen to good people? What reward awaits suffering here on earth?
Still musing on The story of the biblical Job:
Why!
Why wasn't the pain of the mother of Job's kids considered in the equation when God and the Satan were betting and gambling on Job's faith? The kids were hers too. She birthed them. Suffered through pregnancy and childbirth. Carried the scares of having nurtured them into adulthood. Their memories were hers too!
Why wasn't the children themselves spared on their own recognizance?
Why weren't they shown mercy and love and the promise of long life?
And when the mother spoke through her pain, she was killed, and job married another woman (women) to procreate the second set of children abi? Right
The bet between God and Satan wasn't theirs. But they paid ultimately for it. Why?
Why?
I should stop thinking aloud now. I am so spent.
Sunday, 22 April 2018
Like Vanilla, Monterrey, California.
She smelt like vanilla, Monterey, California.
He told her so.
He does not tell her he hates vanilla now.
She sits down beside him, touching the sides of his weakness.
He sits rigidly, detached by her starter.
She tells him he smelt like chocolates, dark.
He nodes, heads for the door knob.
She lets him exit.
The curtains flail in protest.
He pauses outside the door only for a second as she reaches for the notebook to write
Notes for their funeral.
Conquer Igali. (C) 2015
He told her so.
He does not tell her he hates vanilla now.
She sits down beside him, touching the sides of his weakness.
He sits rigidly, detached by her starter.
She tells him he smelt like chocolates, dark.
He nodes, heads for the door knob.
She lets him exit.
The curtains flail in protest.
He pauses outside the door only for a second as she reaches for the notebook to write
Notes for their funeral.
Conquer Igali. (C) 2015
Tuesday, 17 April 2018
On Pain And Happiness
Sadness, Sorrow and pain forces some wisdom upon us.
Happiness , bliss and enjoyment takes away some wisdom from us as though in bits.
This may not be absolute truths, but I am thinking about this just now
Happiness , bliss and enjoyment takes away some wisdom from us as though in bits.
This may not be absolute truths, but I am thinking about this just now
Thursday, 21 December 2017
Tracing Lines.
I'd close my eyes and trace the edges of your face into memory, for when you are no longer here, my mind will still remember you because I'd traced the contoured ridges on your fading memories.
Sunday, 19 November 2017
Wednesday, 8 November 2017
How To Set a Burn
Didn't need ketchup or sauce
I only spread lips that said (O)
And tongue that flicked strawberries
Now, burn.*
OK. Calm down. This is an imagined practice sub-text for a rapper or music artist. I am a little bored with the Nigerian artist singing about cassavas and bananas. When are they going to address a woman's needs and get a conversation going about proper eating etiquettes? I don't mind if a rapper sings a diss rap like so.
If you are as sick as I am, suggest these burn lines to a Nigerian lyrical artist. I do not mind, just have him credit me for my intellectual property. Das all!
Miz Conquer.
8/11/2017
Monday, 30 October 2017
Cactus and Weed.
Two cactus plants stood buried in white flower vases outside the door. There is manure, dirt, weed and sand in the vases.
I had not remembered to water the cactus in weeks now but they were fine. Cant say same for the weed though. The drought in the pots had dried them up. Poor weed.
In relationships. When we forget to water our feelings, they'd dry up too, leaving wasted fibers on concrete hearts.
I had not remembered to water the cactus in weeks now but they were fine. Cant say same for the weed though. The drought in the pots had dried them up. Poor weed.
In relationships. When we forget to water our feelings, they'd dry up too, leaving wasted fibers on concrete hearts.
Life After Death?
What if sleep and dreams are God's reminder to Man that there is life after death?
Staying petty
If you are Nigerian, over 35 and still single, plan a yearly fundraising event for yourself and call it the "Mind (insert your name)'s fundraiser'. (Run this event until you are married)
Make it public and fancy, preferably a black tie event.
Make sure to invite everyone that has something to say about your relationship status or insult/gossip you for it and give them special tables for 100,000 or more. These people have a lot to say about how you should live and what you should be doing with your life. They should at least pay you to live the life they want you to live, no?
Invite Exes and their spouses just for the hell of it. Give them 500,000 vip tables or more. They shouldn't only be allowed to ruin your life. Let them help rebuild it too.
When petty people go low, go so high that they can't afford to mention your name without repercussions.
(c) Conquer Igali.
Make it public and fancy, preferably a black tie event.
Make sure to invite everyone that has something to say about your relationship status or insult/gossip you for it and give them special tables for 100,000 or more. These people have a lot to say about how you should live and what you should be doing with your life. They should at least pay you to live the life they want you to live, no?
Invite Exes and their spouses just for the hell of it. Give them 500,000 vip tables or more. They shouldn't only be allowed to ruin your life. Let them help rebuild it too.
When petty people go low, go so high that they can't afford to mention your name without repercussions.
(c) Conquer Igali.
Bubbles
Floating pieces of you trail my neckline.
I fear to touch you because all bubbles break
Like you did
Like I will.
I fear to touch you because all bubbles break
Like you did
Like I will.
Tuesday, 19 September 2017
Silent questions.
A broken man questions to understand.
So I understand what place of pain a man strains from to ask why a God mighty in battle, that protects his children from harm sits still as armed men walk in his house and murder his worshipers.
A broken man questions to understand. But a foolish man takes a stand from a position of ignorance.
Rocks Cry.
I know rocks cry when we take machines to them, breaking off it's skins till only a puddle is left where strength once stood.
Blessings.
*May you ride on the back of lions, the Krakan, and lightening bolts.
*May the back of crocodiles rescue you and your kin from drowning.
*May pythons fold as pillows for your sleeping head.
And when you go hunting with blunt tools, *may the waters release a sharpened set to aid your day's toil.
Blessings.
When men seek to curse you, *may dragons swallow and spit their curses back at them. Now. And forever.
Eight Questions.
Why does the cock flail, running away from his pending death after it's head is already cut off?
Why is the man resisting the temptation on his lip when the nipple is already grazing his infant's lip?
Why do we accept the medicine for the dead man when his grave is already celebrating an anniversary?
And why?
Why does this flower flail in the wind as though protesting its death at sundown?
Why do we refuse to live?
Why do we refuse this life thrust on us?
And when do we start living?
On Choosing.
It is a human failing that'd make the boy decide he could do better in choosing.
So he'd leave his first for the newer, but would find years after;
So he'd leave his first for the newer, but would find years after;
*that newer is no better than the first.
*That age would make newer wither too.
*And childbirth would make newer more a mother than a lover as it did the first.
This Love Thing.
It is different every time, this love, thing.
You meet the boy in your teens and it was love too. That innocence, that first time at everything, the palpitations and the sheer stupidity of everything else.
Grown people knew it wouldn't lead to much, that life would happen to you and this thing you feel will wither, or fall. And they are often right.
For, sometime after your various graduations, first jobs and new people, it'd die. But it was love too. Just a different kind from what you know now.
For, sometime after your various graduations, first jobs and new people, it'd die. But it was love too. Just a different kind from what you know now.
Now, love is sitting next to someone you once loved, holding him down because you know he is having a breakdown and the only good you can do is not sleep until he is better.
Love is knowing that your partner is scared, possibly for life, and recognising this, intentionally picking up all his shrapnel and splinters along the way hoping to patch him up when he needs it.
Love is now also companionship and lifelong plans, learning your lover's illnesses and walking on a care plan together.
Love is responsibility and subtle head nods too.
For some, Love is recognising that he is not only yours too, that you aren't that special after all. He is yours and hers and his mother's too.
Now, love is meeting broken people, and fixing inches of their lives one encounter at a time because you can't fix them, really. You can do just this much and hope.
Now, love is different things and nothing.
Tide.
We are all chasing mavericks until we tire from it, and get ready for the waves in the tide.
I have been waiting.
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