MY SPEAKING PLATFORM.

Kurtney was the hottest girl on campus, guys called her the most beautiful, her skin glitters, her curve was something to die for, her body commanded a kind of stare, the kim kardashian body will compete and still not win her in a body contest. Old and young men wanted her. She was aware of her beauty and she carried herself so graciously, with confidence and style. She knew how to flaunt her beauty. She didn't need to read to pass, reading was too much of a hard work, she had beauty to make up for her brain, she liked the cliche 'use what you have to get what you want'.  Lord have mercy, she used hers well. She slept with all the male lecturers, yes, i mean all, who could resist her? There was no Joseph among them neither were there any Joseph on campus to run from this Potiphar's wife. Her cooch was a public one, it welcomed everyone that had a pud or something like that, as long as 'dem get money'. Her poon was like a ripe rotten mango that attracted all kind...

When your legs don't walk as they used to before, And I can't sweep you off of your feet Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love? Will your eyes still smile from your cheek? And darling....' Ed Sheeran sang on as Desmond listened with keen interest. Paying attention to each word in each line of the song. The song reminded him of so much that he wanted to forget. It brought back memories that brought pain. Quickly, he tuned in  to another radio station and the voice of Doris took over the room. She was talking about love, he didn't like the subject because he didn't like love. He tuned in to another station and Ed Sheeran was still there still thinking out loud. Maybe all the radio stations had conspired to make his night hell. He turned off his radio. He was going to sleep but sleep like his peace of mind had eluded him. His mind became the radio, it played the song and he could not turn it off. He didn't know how or when his mind dived i...

I want my innocence back. I was very innocent before life stole my innocence. I like how i used to cry without being able to say what i want and my mummy will get it for me, she will say 'you want water? You want to eat? Should we go home? You want to go and meet daddy? You want that toy? That shirt? And everytime she asked, i nod a yes to it and she will get it for me. I like how i used to cry like the baby i was and my mummy will pat my back and say baby don't cry, she will ask 'who beat my baby?' she will lift me up, spin me around, throw me up and down, smile and sing me her own rhymes to lure me to sleep.  I like how everybody wanted to carry me in their arms and say she is cute, i love the kisses they placed on my cheeks and lips, it didn't mean anything, i never thought of the person that placed the kiss, it didn't matter if it was a boy or girl, cute or ugly. That was how innocent i was. I like how i used to bath outside, go around naked and my nakedness...

They are 7 billion people in the world, hypothetically.  7 billion people equal 7 billion lives and 7 billion lives logically equal 7 billion smiles. But what if I told you 7 billion smiles don't equal 7 billion amusement, pleasure or happiness same time. Hundred Eyes said in Marcopolo; If the gods are watching then we might as well put on a good show, but imagine no God in heaven and none in shrines and olympus watching us. Would there still be a need for a good show? I'd say Yes, of course. Like a smoke machine simulates the fog we see in a motion picture, taking picture is a simulation of our living condition expression, and a woman faking orgasm to simulate the process of boosting her man ego, are all processes you will agree with me won't stop, so as the height of conscious efforts to show the world we are making progress won't drop, and so the show goes on and on and on. And I can understand why we put on a good show every now and then, nah, slash the euphemism,...

I wait  patiently for dawn I will wait even in the dark I will not doze nor yawn Even when the bright day turns black I will wait, patiently for my dawn I will wait patiently in the rain I will endure the cold and not cry Even when i see people leave in their train I will wait for the sun to dry Patiently I will wait I will wait patiently and pray I will not let my heart race Even when others eat their prey I will wait for the voice of grace.

At the very moment you feel lost, and clouded with the darkness of sadness, when it feels like every line is broken and you can't read between the broken lines because the words are broken and the thoughts are broken just remember that God has given you everything. All you need to do is give yourself everything he has given you. Most times i remind myself that it is okay to make mistakes, it is okay to fail. But what is not okay is not allowing yourself to learn from your mistakes and letting your failure challenge you to succeed. Sometimes when i am scared, very scared, confused and unsure of anything, and the whole confusion, anxiety, fear roll up to lump in my chest, i realise that fear is more crippling than being a cripple. Weakness is not a thing to display like some sort of an admirable quality, but hiding your weakness makes you even weaker than you want to be. To be relevant in a world like ours, you need to show and prove your relevance. Show the world what you ...

She said she will not love again, and so she wrapped her heart and locked it in a bottle and put it inside her fridge. It will be cold, very cold. She will never crush nor love. She could even play with hearts, yes,  she will, she will shatter hearts with no mercy, just like Dan had no mercy when he broke hers into pieces and left every piece for her to pick and fix like a jigsaw puzzle. She will never love again, even if she wanted to, where is the heart?  Who will love with a broken heart? To hell with love, to hell with that feeling that makes you vulnerable. *** ‘hello’ I am Kyle, what is your pretty name?’ She turns to see a not so handsome looking guy staring at her, she almost walked away but remembered her promise to hurt and break hearts. She stopped, smiled at him, ‘ I  am Clara’. ‘Nice to meet you Clara, you are pretty’ ‘Yeah, thanks’ maintaining the simplest smile’. *** Who would have believed she could love again? She had sworn never to love, ho...