Calm, TOTALLY INSANE, but calm still.

Posts tagged “death


The smell of blood begets fear in the soul of the faint hearted
Surgeons and butchers are immune souls to it’s stench.
Once, when I had drank my fill from the breast of dementia.
I flung wide the legs of fear and I raped her.
Now, if you know anything about Memories,
It is that, the glossy finish gets glossier every time.

Back to this hour of blood and fear in the air.
Whose blood is it? You ask.
Ask the butcher when he slits the throat of a bull
Or the surgeon as he clamps down vessels in your gut.
The gory details don’t matter at this hour.
Only the muddy red blood and the bile taste of fear
That is all that matters.

How dare you think about death?
Death will forever remain a mystery to you
Until you stare it down and live to tell a tale
The tale I assure you will get glossier
-each time you tell it.
For such is the curse of memories
But I assure you this,
There’s no insurance against death
For death is equal to nothingness
And life has a strong affinity to nothingness
So, fear not death though it means your end
You’ll only become a memory that gets glossier.

Ps: Memories fade away into nothingness.

by Blaqknyght

Note: Apologies are in order, I admit I have not at all been faithful to this blog, though I’ve been writing, if you could call it that. Been getting some funny messages, on twitter especially in the last couple of weeks, people saying I don’t write, that I sacrificed my writing for twitter, tbh fam (I still don’t know what this means by the way) and all. You know what? I think Its hilarious, Iike that could ever happen.

Now the reason for my absence is quite simple, I’m working on something special with a few other people, when it all comes together I’ll let you know. I promise I’m not slacking, aswearrugad. Have a wonderful week ahead. shalom


Day 28 – Nickel

Symbol – Ni

Atomic weight – 58.6934

Ionization energy – 7.6398eV

Solution – One Stormy night

Chemist – @jus_kenny





1) Baami means my father.

2) Oni: – Name given to a baby that cries endlessly, day and night, after birth.

3) Taiwo: – Name given to the first one of a twin.

4) Kehinde: – Name given to the second twin.

5) Dada: – A baby with curly hair.

6) Iya ile: – Meaning the house mother, always the first wife.

6) Iyalode: – Meaning mother of women – A title given to the king’s first wife.

7) Kabiyesi: – King.


I have called Kabiyesi Baba for as long as I can remember. Baba is ancient. Baba is my father’s father. Baba hates me but his hate is only a fraction of how much someone else despises me; Iya ile or Sumbo as others call her.


Baba screamed at me and shouted for Baami to get the simpleton out of his sight. The foremost of men I heard that from was Baba. I admit, I am not too bright. His words, I could not understand, but his intent struck me harder than the fabled spear of Alawada would. I can read the mood in the area just as well Baba Bamtefa could divine Ifa’s messages from the white cowries. Although, I could not understand then how my questions caused some discomfort. I knew not to ask again when I saw mother’s eyes mist up. What shut me up though was the joy I could feel radiating from the corner of the hut where Iya ile, my father’s elder wife, sat. The cruelness of her happiness frightened me and I reconfirmed that something was wrong. Father did not bother explaining. He walked up to me and scooped me into his brawny arms.


I wondered then about the magnanimous display of emotion, as my father was not given to displaying much emotion. He seemed overtly protective and in front of Baba’s eyes too. I could understand then that he held me as much as I held him but I could not understand why. That he had to trek quite a distance through the rain did not seem to bother him. He carried me the extensive distance to my separate hut and set me down me within. He did not speak a word until he was to go.


He said to me, “Your brother is…” He stopped there, tethering on the edge. Then he said, “Kehinde, stay inside here. There should be a storm tonight.” He turned and left me in the semi dark space with only the dim sunlight from the storm outside filtering in through the white wrapper at my door. I did not want to stay in the hut; I had an undying need to know what was going on. I tried to stand but fire hot as the sun flared in my legs. I was born with cursed frail legs that would only support walking for short periods and this was not one of them. I was known in most places as crippled despite that not being entirely true.


Still, I was determined to find out and I had other methods; I was not a dada for nothing. On my mat, I stared at the roof of my thatched hut and time flickered by before my eyes. I focused; I called to one who had been with me as long as I can remember. I called till tears streamed down my face and when I believed my effort a failure, she came. The ghost of my long dead twin sister came.


Nude as the day I was born, she stood before me. She was unclothed, unconcealed right from her luxurious dark hair that moved to a breeze of its own down to her budding breasts and lower yet to her strong African thighs and beautiful feet.

She asked, as always. “Are you ready to join me? Are you ready now?” I shook my head vigorously as shivers ran down my spine.

“No, not today. There is too much wonder in the world to leave now.” I said.

“Are you sure? I really want my twin back. It’ll be fun with me. Come, please.”

“I’ll stay a lot longer. It’s quite fun here too.”


She smirked. She looked exactly as I saw myself when I looked into the bath water every morning. Although, with slight differences. Unlike me, she would not have been a dada though. She was a bit fatter than I was but otherwise, we were identical right down to our birthmarks. I thought, “They must really feed ghosts well.”


I recall seeing her as a baby. It was an eerie paler version of me staring down at myself with infant eyes as large as mine. I had known her forever. She was my carbon copy or rather; I was hers, since she came out of the womb first albeit that she came out lifeless.

I spoke to her, I said.  “Taiwo, something has happened. I must know what it is.”

She was silent for a while.  “Kehinde, it is none of your concern. Don’t poke your nose there, things won’t end well.”


I paused at the rebuke. She had never denied me anything. Despair clutched at me. I knew then that the news must be woeful.

“Taiwo, you too? You too?” I turned over and raised my wrapper above my head. It didn’t take long for me to find to the depths of sleep. I did not notice my legs upon a wall of my hut but I felt them there. There, in the depths of nightmare, I dreamt something evil. I woke screaming into a screeching African thunderstorm.


The first thing I noticed was that I could walk now. I put my legs to good use as I began the trek from my isolated hut to my mother’s hut. Baba, being king had amassed a fortune in his life. My father, not to be outdone had accumulated a copious share too. In their lifetimes they had collected quite a stretch of land. Being the eyesore of the family, I got a disconnected hut, far away from contact with outsiders and my family. I believe Baba was just hoping I would die off. I walked till my legs began to throb and then even after, in pain. Taiwo appeared before me then.

“Stop. Stop. Go back. Look at the weather. Go back, don’t stick your head here Kehinde.” She pleaded with me but to no avail. I was almost completely oblivious to her presence. I just put one foot in front of the other till I arrived at mothers.


Mother was not within. Tired, I virtually crawled into her quarters and then to the bundle of clothes that should have been Oni. As I approached the bundle I noticed something, Oni was silent and when I got to the body beneath the clothes it was cold as the raindrops outside. My nightmare was real after all. I had not been dreaming but dream walking.


I put my fingers to his teeny neck where he had been choked to death. She had no children of hers but two girls. Baami was the only heir to the throne and was set to be king after Baba. Oni, my father’s first male child, was a threat to her future ambition as Iyalode, the queen of women. My mind did not understand all this but I grasped the concept that iya ile murdered him. It made sense, she had been a brooding darkness right from the day he was born. Or rather, she had been more brooding and darker than before.


I crawled to his corpse and cried. I wept as memories of my time with the boy flooded my being. Such a tragedy, so young and innocent. It was not his time and being born a dada and a twin I had abilities that made me able to do something about it. He was barely dead a few hours and therefore still redeemable. I had tried this before with a drowned bird I found outside my hut. Now, I tried again. My twin appeared again and pleaded with me not to try. I ignored her. This was something I had to do. She implored me to stop even as I cradled Oni to my nonexistent bosom and I began to sing. I sang those songs I had sung to him, over and over again. I sang till my voice grew hoarse and my body trembled. I dipped into my pool of power and pulled for my brother. I pulled till I could pull no more. I shared my life and essence with him.


Oni shivered from the cold of my drenched clothes and I heard a feeble sob. I held him tightly and dozed off there for a bit. I awoke to feel his tiny heart beating and to see his infant chest rising. I smiled triumphantly.


I tried for getting up. My legs failed me and I panicked. I had to leave the vicinity. A baby had died, a baby had been revitalized. I should not be here when anyone came back. I understood that concept too well and I knew to make myself scarce lest someone see me. Terror flooded my brain as I tried again but they worked this time and I got up on shaky legs. My legs wobbling madly, I walked out of the hut into the stormy night.


A cry of “Who’s there?” almost sent urine gushing down my wrapper. In fear, I burst into a mad sprint. Biting my lower lip, against the pain, I ran. Perhaps someone had heard the cries of the baby. Perhaps it was my mother or just someone. I did not need to know. More importantly, they did not need to know me. I knew the villagers deep fear of magic and I doubled my pace fortifying against recognition.


The sky was dark and I could not see where I was going. Bumbling back to my hut, I felt more tired than I had ever been, tired and in torturous pain. I ran still, I could not stop running but I was slowing down. It took me a while to realize I was lost. I could feel the heat in my chest, and it fractured out in numerous directions. My body was fire in the cold rain. At first, I was beyond pain, I was beyond suffering and then suddenly, my legs ceased working and I crashed to the floor. Then, I knew I was within Esu’s grip. I was lost. Pain burst out from ever fraction of my body; Incomprehensible agony. Tears flowed freely down out of my eyes confluencing with the raindrops as I fell to the mud and laid there. I knew a good herb that could cure my pain but I was lost now. Rain battered my body, thunder rumbled painfully to my ears and I began to feel cold. It was dark and I was lost. As I sank into despair, lightning flashed. It illuminated my surroundings and I realized two things. I was not far from my hut and the herb I sought for was miraculously within reach. Inch by excruciating inch I stretched out my left hand to the plant. As I got it I made to get up with my other hand but it slipped in the mud and I smashed my chin down upon a stone. Pain radiated out from the point of impact. Pain wracked my body into convulsions. I blacked out.


As I come to, I see Taiwo’s ghostly form before me, weeping. Her ghost tears neither drip nor drop but they flow down her face freely and into nonexistence. I am in tortured misery. She stretches out a hand towards me and this time I accept it. “Take me, I’m ready now”, I beg in whispered words.

She smiles. “Kehinde, in our next life, how would you like to torture iya ile as Abiku?”

I laugh. I would like that.

There laid Kehinde, she died with an herb in her hand.

“Aje ke lana, omo ku leni. Tani o mo pe aje to ke lana lo pa omo je.”

Translation  (A witch cried yesterday, a child died today. Who doesn’t know that it’s the witch that cried yesterday that killed the child?)        — Yoruba Proverb.


Day 10 – Neon

Symbol – Ne

Atomic weight – 20.1797

Ionization energy – 21.5645eV

Solution – The Invention of Dying.

Chemist – @Seuntomas






“And Semjâzâ, who was their leader, said unto them: ‘I fear ye will not indeed agree to do this deed, and I alone shall have to pay the penalty of a great sin.’ And they all answered him and said: ‘Let us all swear an oath, and all bind ourselves by mutual imprecations not to abandon this plan but to do this thing.’. Then swore they all together and bound themselves by mutual imprecations upon it. And they were in all two hundred; who descended in the days of Jared on the summit of Mount Hermon, and they called it Mount Hermon, because they had sworn and bound themselves by mutual imprecations upon it.”

•  ••

Akintunde looked at the piece of paper his grandfather had left him in his will, the paper was brown and old, it was addressed “Akintunde, may you see life in death” Akintunde smelt the paper, it smelled like an old room, it smelt like old cupboards, the paper had browned with age not dirt, it was folded in four places resulting in a perfect tiny square, he untangled it, straining his eyes under the makeshift light his chinaphone provided, there hadn’t been light for 3weeks now, his ever present chinaphone had been his salvation, there always existed parts of the settings folder he hadn’t explored, the phone served as a saviour from mind bending boredom, saving him in times where it seemed like the world was rubbing its sweaty shoulder on you, the singular most annoying thing one could have done to them. For now, the chinaphone served as a source of light, in the uncompleted building along Ibezim obiajulu street in surulere. Akintunde sat on his bed reading the words of his late grandfather, Josephus Aboderirn Thomas, “the secret is how to die”, his grandfather’s writing was beautiful, the kind you saw in movies, the kind that looked surreal, like it could jump out of the paper, “the secret is how to die ” Akintunde read the words out loud, confused as ever, this was all his grandpa had left him, the only family he knew, both his parents had died, he never met them, he lived with his grandpa , down the road from the building he now called home, the house had mysteriously been burnt down to ashes, incinerating everything in it, include his grandfather, later on that week when he would be running for his life he would understand the reason for the fire.

                          •   •



“And Azâzêl taught men to make swords, and knives, and shields, and breastplates, and made known to them the metals of the earth and the art of working them, and bracelets, and ornaments, and the use of antimony, and the beautifying of the eyelids, and all kinds of costly stones, and all colouring tinctures. And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray, and became corrupt in all their ways. Semjâzâ taught enchantments, and root-cuttings, Armârôs the resolving of enchantments, Barâqîjâl, taught astrology, Kôkabêl the constellations, Ezêqêêl the knowledge of the clouds, Araqiêl the signs of the earth, Shamsiêl the signs of the sun, and Sariêl the course of the moon.”

                  •   •

                   THE BEGINNING
• •  •

“Josephus, Josephus Aboderin Thomas” he looked at the hospital attendant with confusion in his eyes, two hours ago he had been engrossed in his work, he was the head and only professor of the very new, very understaffed department of esoteric and mystical studies in the prestigious University of Ibadan, he had been required to leave his house in surulere and take up residence on campus, the government had developed a sudden and curious interest in matters of the supernatural, not clay sand, cowries, old idols but the angel, demon and higher level supernatural. He had already developed a minor curiosity for these things and so even though he was just a professor of philosophy, his lectures and research on the subject matter had gained him some fame. When he got a letter from the chancellor of the school asking him to be the head of the department he knew just how much fame he had gathered. Now he was in the hospital, armed with his refined manner of speaking, silver gray hair, trademark style of dressing with suspenders, brogues and his versace spectacles he had gotten as a gift from the president once, made him stand out like a goat in the midst of oranges, “Joo.. See.. Fos” the nurse on duty tried to write his name down, “ABODERIN!!”  “ABODERIN!!” He screamed at her, “JUST WRITE ABODERIN” by now a doctor had heard the shouting and was rushing to meet him, he gestured for Aboderin to follow him, leading him to his office, Fela was crooning from underneath the doctors table, “trouble sleep yanga wake am”, the sun’s intensity was fierce, the music was too low, the room smelt like old clothes, he was uneasy, he had a terrible feeling in his gut. Why had he been called her?  What was the meaning of this? Adenike, Demola and Yvonne should be here by now. Why was this doctor arranging and rearranging his already arranged table over and over again like he too was uneasy, “I have bad news” the doctor finally said. Aboderin fainted.
                          •    •


“The Lord said to Raphael: ‘Bind Azâzêl hand and foot, and cast him into the darkness: and make an opening in the desert, which is in Dûdâêl (God’s Kettle/Crucible/Cauldron), and cast him therein. And place upon him rough and jagged rocks, and cover him with darkness, and let him abide there for ever, and cover his face that he may not see light. And on the day of the great judgement he shall be cast into the fire. And heal the earth which the angels have corrupted, and proclaim the healing of the earth, that they may heal the plague, and that all the children of men may not perish through all the secret things that the Watchers have disclosed and have taught their sons. And the whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azâzêl: to him ascribe all sin.”
                        •    •

• •  • •

“God gives and God takes” the sticker he saw on the doctor’s door couldn’t leave his mind,
God gives and God takes.
It plagued at him, clawed at him more like it, over and over again, over and over and over again, he was confused, he was angry, he was distraught, he was devastated, in one ill-fated swoop he had lost his life, his wife, son, and daughter in law, God gives and God takes, “he has taken from me alright” he thought to himself as he threw the empty pack of marlboro cigarettes into the ever growing heap in the corner, this was what his life had turned to, he hadn’t been to work in two weeks, God gives and God takes, he cursed under his breath, piles of books calling to him, God gives and God takes, God gives and God takes, God gives and God takes, over and over again in his head. Was this some kind of joke? Or some punishment for his line of work. He had plunged into the supernatural, delved into things he probably shouldn’t have, around the walls of his room were sigils and symbols, he needed answers, he had to take action, it had been three months since he had lost everything, everything but Akintunde, his grandson who was only but a baby, he stared at the materials that lay on the table where his books were piled, Tourmaline, black gemstone and a flower, he had traced out the lining of a pentagram on the wall facing him, he thought about what he was about to do, God gives and God takes, he stood and made for the table where the materials were placed, the sun was in virgo, the moon was in aquarius, the time was right, he was going to perform the enochian pentagram banishing ritual, that was first and foremost, he begun,
He touched his forehead and intoned NONCF KHYS (NOH-NOO-KEE-FEH KAH-HEES; You are).
He touched his phallus and intoned ADOHY (AH-DOH-HEE; Kingdom), then Touched his right shoulder and intoned LONSA (LOH-NOO-SAH; Power), Touched the left shoulder and intoned BUSDYR (BOOS-DEE-RAY; Glory), Touched his breast and intone YOYAD (EE-OH-EE-OH-DAH; Him that liveth forever), Facing North, he extended his  right hand with his dagger, and traced a banishing Pentagram, which is like a normal pentagram except with an arrow drawn from south, north along the left side of the triangle with the point facing north,  he did the Sign of the Enterer and intoned

He  came back into the Sign of Silence, then assumed the God-Sign for Puella, which in latin means “girl” with his right hand open across the breast and the left hand open covering his phallus, looking downward.
He Stabbed the Pentagram in the center and turn to the East, Repeating, but intoning:

GE-YAD (GAY EE-AH-DAH, Our Lord and Master)

He went on and on, taking his time, meticulously carrying out the ritual, up next was the invoking.

•   •

Kokabiel and Armaros looked on at the unsuspecting human carrying on with his ritual, everything was falling into place, Azazel’s plan was taking form. Kokabel had his 365,000 spirits ready, a war was coming and he was ready, he spat out and brandished his sword, expecting the bright and morning star to intervene at anytime, in all his Omniscience, and omnipresence surely he must know, or maybe he was secretly planning something, he spat again, he was uneasy, the demons were doing their work, clawing at the human’s mind, whispering into his ear, as he continued with the ritual, more demons filled the room, their stench unmissable, it was time for the summoning.

•      •
Aboderin rolled up his sleeves, the tattoos on both his arms facing the pentagram on the wall, it was time to summon Azazel, everything had fallen into place, almost like it was luck, almost like some supernatural force was guiding him, Azazel would have motive, Azazel would have the power he needed, he had the first part, the secret, he had discovered the secret to death. In other words, he knew how to die, he had never tested the knowledge, but he had it, he had surpassed everyone, even Crowley, the fat brit, he had met him a couple of times, summoned more like, he needed information from him, with regards to the Egyptian gods, osiris and the rest, his research had taken him around the world. In three months he had travelled around the world, from Egypt to Russia, covered all the grimoires, all of them, all the apocryphal books that were, he had conducted a few rites himself that he was proud of. The summoning of Alaister Crowley was one of them, and now he was summoning Azazel. This would be his greatest feat, he planted his feet on the ground, focusing all his energy, he began to chant, the room felt dark, the flames from the candle stood still, he cleared his mind, focusing solely on his task at hand, surely this had to work, he had created this spell on his own, he began to chant

“Spirits of air, sand and sea,
Converge to set the angel free.
in the wind I send this rhyme,
Bring Azazel before me at this time”

“Magic forces black and white,
Reaching out through space and light,
Be he far or be he near
Bring us the angel Azazel here”

As he chanted he wasn’t aware of the commotion in the room, the demons contorted and twisted, making unearthly sounds, filling the air with their pungent smell of sulphur, kokabel grunted.

                     •      • •

•   •         •


“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it”
“I knew it”
“I knew it”
” I knew one day these vermin would discover the secret”
“I told him”
“I told the bright and morning star”
“He shouldn’t have given them so much freedom, so much power”
“He shouldn’t have made them in his image”
“He shouldn’t have made them in his likeness”
“Now it’s the end for all of us, including him”

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.”

                    •       •
• •   • • •

Azazel looked down on Aboderin, he had been summoned, he was confined to earth, imprisoned more like it, but he could be summoned, slowly but surely his plan was taking form, it had taken a long time, years and years for Armaros to find a human with enough potential, what brought Armaros here to Nigeria was yet to be known, but they were here, and they had found a human, as angels they had limits, more so that they had fallen, times were changing, curiosity was growing, and lucifer and his demons were smarter, but this, this his plan was fool proof. The irrational nature of humans meant Aboderin had to believe that he was the one doing everything, that all his thoughts were his, that he was an excellent researcher, and excellent spell caster, he couldn’t see the demons clawing at him, whispering into his ear, Aboderin was a gun and Azazel had found his trigger and boy was he going to shoot.

                          •      •
•  •

Akintunde looked at the crazy man that was telling him about impending doom that was coming his way. Could his life get any crazier, he was in the local abandoned library, pouring through the materials he had found mysteriously intact underneath all the debris at his grandpa’s house, he didn’t question his sudden desire to go back to the house and rummage through, he didn’t question how intact the books where, or that they seemed to there for him, he just buried himself in them, not fully understanding his grandpa’s writings, taking interest in the spells and rituals written in them, he thought to the note his grandpa had left him, “the secret is how to die” , he wondered if the blue eyed crazy man sitting in front of him, the man was handsome, with Gold hair and odd blue eyes, blue like the ocean, the man was telling him, warning him more like, about danger coming for him, telling him to give up on his quest,
What quest?
Akintunde thought to himself, he didn’t know what he was looking for, or what he would find, but this man seemed convinced that it led to danger, a scream rang through the library, the man’s blue eyes suddenly lit up, like they were on fire, “he’s here” the man said as he grabbed Akintunde by the arm, his grip firm, his strength unnatural.

                 •        •
•••    •••

Azazel was furious, he flew into a destructive rage, the humans called it an earthquake but he couldn’t care less,
The bright and morning star
It had to be, he had interfered, finally, he knew it was going sour when Aboderin became hesitant, like he had suddenly developed a change of heart, humans and their flimsy emotions, the bloody human had what they needed, the secret of death, the ultimate power, the power over death, what he felt was God’s power, God’s advantage, if he could get that power he would be supreme, equal to or above God, he would set his seat high above the heavens, angels had limits and so he needed a human to do the dirty work, he was confined, imprisoned by Raphael, limited to information he received from his fellow fallen or those disgusting demons, they had found Aboderin 3 human years ago and set the plan in motion, he arranged the killing of Aboderin’s family, pushing the already tilting man over the edge, no one ventures into these things and remains the same, things of the supernatural, things of the watchers and the nephillim, and of horus, and osiris, and the stars and the moon, he sent demons to claw at Aboderin’s mind, to lead him in the path they wanted him to go, to the books of enoch, and tobit, to the gates of hell to summon Crowley, he had the demons feed Aboderin with thoughts, blasphemous thoughts, thoughts of supremacy, thoughts of death, of “the” death, of the death of God.

Everything was set, the human was to be possessed, Azazel was to possess Aboderin and together they were to kill God, at least that’s what Aboderin thought, with his unstable human thinking, Azazel had bigger plans, grander, more magnificent plans, he wanted to be, God. Aboderin had chickened out, he probably had an encounter with the bright and morning star and was overwhelmed with love for yaweh, such is the glory.

23 years….

He thought to himself, 23 years since he was summoned,

More time.

Aboderin always asked for more time, Azazel felt confidence in his human, like nothing could go wrong, now everything was wrong, Aboderin, with his knowledge, had killed himself, his house had burned to the ground, angel fire definitely, Raphael maybe, or Gabriel, the human had died with the knowledge,

Or had he?

The grandson, the boy, the boy Aboderin left behind, such curiosity had to be hereditary. But the boy knew nothing


He knew nothing yet, perfect, he set plan B in motion, starting with a message for the grandson from the grandfather,
     “The secret is how to die”
Intriguing enough, with the right push this could lead them to their promised land above the heavens, Azazel was a thinker, a smart one, he thought ahead, precisely, putting together the pieces of his plan like a perfect jigsaw puzzle, except now the boy was running for his life, Azazel was hot on his heels, surely the boy had help from above, he stopped to smell the library, the smell of sage and sapphire overshadowing the now smelling corpse down the hall, that must have been what gave him away, the scream. Gabriel had been here.
•      •
Akintunde was panting, gasping for air, 4 seconds ago he was in the library, now he was in the RCCG church down the road from his house, “I’m sorry” the blue eyed man said to him, “I should have warned you about the effects of angel flight on a human”

“A … ” , Akintunde looked puzzled, “Yes” a voice came from the pulpit, another blue eyed man stood by the pulpit, “Michael!” The blue eyed man sighed in relief, “Yes Gabriel”

Gabriel, michael, what the hell was going on here?

Akintunde was now more perplexed than ever, “Do not fear” the one called Michael walked towards him, he took a step back, then another step, then another step, before finally bumping into something, or someone, Azazel breathed down his neck, grabbing him and whispering into his ear, “the secret is how to die”
                      •     •

The showdown………..

It seemed like that, Azazel stood with Akintunde on one side, Gabriel and Michael on the other, no demons here, not with Michael and Gabriel together in one place, just the four of them, “no its not” Michael looked at Akintunde with sincerity in his eyes, trying to get the human to see the honesty in the truth he was speaking, “Azazel is a lying”

Lying about what?

In the next three minutes Michael told Akintunde about everything, what happened to his parents, his grandfather, and then Azazel’s plan,
“Lies!” Azazel screamed, “all lies”

“No!” Gabriel replied, shedding his human form, Michael followed suit, Akintunde then felt very small as the angel beside him shed his human form too,

“They fear you” Azazel continued talking to Akintunde, “The bright and morning star is afraid of you”, Michael grunted in response to Azazel’s last comment, “The knowledge your grandfather had, could bring about a new life, a new heaven and a new earth” he spoke confidently, trying to convince Akintunde to join his cause, “we” he hesitated, “We could be God” “with the power over death comes the power over life”, “we could build a world together”, he stood erect, his might clear for all to see, “we could be G…”

Michael bellowed,
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.”

He walked towards Akintunde, stretching out his hand, gesturing for him to take it and follow him, Azazel couldn’t move, suddenly light shone through the hall, blinding light, causing Akintunde to fall, he felt lighter as he saw himself float upwards towards the light, Azazel’s screams becoming more distant, in all his planning  he had left out one major thing: ‘You can’t kill someone who knows how to die.’


‘See the cracks in his skin’

‘He is doomed’

‘Hear the anger in his speech’

‘He will burn’

‘Feel the hate he exudes’

‘Hell they say, was made for the likes of him’


You think him bad.

So they think him bad.

Now he thinks him bad.


Whispers, whispers, hush, hush…..

Keep silent,

For I must listen to them whisper.


I need to live again,

But unfortunately a chance at life would require a stab at death.


I am trapped, I am trapped.

Who will stab me?

Who will save me from me?


All I see are towering giants and manmade mountains.

I can try….but who am I kidding?

Hard rocks await me if I fall.

The fear of the fall serves a far greater purpose.

It forces me to weigh the cost of following my dreams.


Go get me Mr. Luthor.

I need me some kryptonite.


Heroes are made by woes,

But you see, all I do is bow to the enemy.

I see the villain and instantly fall to ground.

I smell a problem and instantly become weak at the knees.

‘I need to be brave’ I shout, I scream.

But I find myself lacking when the times demand brawn.

I am the lone wolf, the one that strays and never returns.

I am the traveller,

I do not stay on the path not because I am going somewhere,

Or because I love the thrill of the road,

Or because I enjoy vast pasturelands that decorate the country-side.

No. No. No. I travel because my destination is nowhere in particular.

I search for something in the music.

I don’t know what it is but I search still.

My gut says I’ll know when I find ‘HOME’.

Love waits for me, with a smile, a smooth bed and a hot cup of tea.

This is all that keeps me breathing.


I sit here, waiting for a bus.

Buses come, buses go,

But I sit still, waiting patiently for my own.


I scream but nobody of worth will listen.

See me’ hands shake, they think me sick in the body,

When I am in fact sick in the mind.

I stand confused, which is more important, the mind or the flesh?


‘Have you ever been so lost in you, you cannot find you?’

‘Do you ever wonder what lies in the deepest recesses of your person?’

 ‘Who is the one you lock away so nobody knows how pitiful you really are?’

‘Or does the man in there scare you?’

‘Is he so strong you’re barely keeping him in?’


I believe in a God and not in lofty ideals.

I am not pathetic, you must be mistaken mister.

Go. Leave me.


The cavern in my chest is filled with emptiness.

The wounds of yesterday are those of today.

The putrid injury rankles but even that is but the surface of the scorching pain.

The void is timeless; nothing beats there but the void.

I bleed, I bled and I shall still bleed.

The tub overflows, the sands are dyed an ugly shade of red.

I hear the ‘drip drip’ as my blood flows down to the stones but it is just a phantom memory.

By my death or yours we’ll find no freedom from this deurmekaar.

What happens when what we once had crumbles to dust?

When I lost you, I lost every reason to exist

Living in the filthy rubble we once called home is now a comfort.

The hand that once offered us the world now offers us nothing but a fleeting glance and a ghost of a nod.

I found true love in your haze glazed eyes.

I should live my life while it lasts; I should enjoy it to the fullest and maximize my existence.

However, somewhere somehow I forgot where the key fits into the lock.

I just can’t be motivated to begin again.

This is the last goodnight; you’ve bitten the poisoned apple.

You and your addictions, they got the better of you after all.

The drugs, the weed and the booze. I was witness to it all.

I was there at the beginning when you held the stars in your eyes.

I saw it through to the end, you doped yourself to death.

My supernova, transient and beautiful.

Mopping you up, cradling your fragile form.

Your obsessions were the death of you.

My obsession won’t let me live again.

You were fucked up, a broken thing but you were always a beauty first.

Perhaps I’ll slit my wrists and follow you too

Despite your addictions, I loved you. I love you.

Groom to an addict, perhaps I’ll have the Reaper come take me too.

Now and again, from forever till eternity, you will be my bride.

Dressed to the grave in your fair gown, I swear to wear this dark suit to mine.



That was a beautiful poem by one of our resident writers here – @jus_kenny. I do hope you got the message.

There has been way too much gloom on this blog right? *side-eye IBukun* I know I know, but don’t you just love tragedy? What, you don’t? *smashes raw egg against wall* *sighs*

Seeing as we are very happy people here at redor, we have decided to delve into humour, we won’t be writing anything tragic or serious for the next month or so. Instead we’ll be trying to put some of our opinions into words in an effort to make y’all see the brighter side of things. Don’t you just love us? *waves at imaginary crowd*

We have something in the works for you guys though, something you’ve definitely never seen before, I’ll introduce it our next post. You just eat your daily rations of beans and weed and wait patiently.

Do have a wonderful day. Bye.



Hello, thanks for stopping by, this is the last of this series, you can read the first here and the second here. You most probably will not understand this if you haven’t read the first two. Enjoy!


The spirits of old, messengers of Orisa they are.

For we are wicked they are kind, they are pure, they are spotless.

They watch and whisper from the shadows in the darkness of the night while we sleep.


“Your ways are crooked, your thoughts bitter.

You smell of death, you reek of misfortune.

OBA will condemn you to the death,

Orisa will send you to the pits of hell.”


They wear clothes covering all of their body.

The coverings for their legs reach their knees.

Their skin is white like yam, no not like yam, it shines like the morning.

They speak in foreign tongues, troublesome to the ear.

Their leader comes to us and speaks in his tongue to the boy by my side.

He is scared; I feel his fear in my guts, I can taste it in my mouth.

OBA seems agitated; he keeps smiling and making faces at CHIEF AKINLABI.

CHIEF AKINLABI can speak in the tongue of the spirits.

CHIEF AKINLABI listens to them speak then whispers into the OBA’s ear.

While the other CHIEF’s stand and whisper amongst themselves.

One of the spirits seemed discontented with something, now he comes towards us.

Suddenly I’m face to face with the demon.

I look him straight in his eye just like my father taught me.


“How quickly love turns to hate and freedom to captivity.

The whispers of my fathers I hear in the distance.

The songs of my mother permeate the night breeze.

I am the man who will defy gods.

For I look upon death and spit on its face.

For I am one with the sand and the sand is one with me.”


I see the king whisper into the ears of CHIEF AKINLABI.

His guards come and take the strange things away.

I am sure now; I had followed my mother to the market enough times to recognize this.

I know what it was to buy and sell, I know that look on a man’s face when he has just struck a bargain.

I know something had been sold and fear for the merchandise.

The paint falls off and I am sold to white demons, is this destiny?

OBA AKINBOWALE ADEBAYO ODEYEMI II of ILU OLORUN comes towards us; I have never seen so much of his teeth at the same time.


“For generations, we have gone to war we have lost our young.

Great and powerful kingdoms threaten to take away the very air we breathe.

As OBA what would you have me do?

I will not be regarded as the king that sold his people to death.

I must save our daughters from foreign men and our sons from eternal servitude.

EMI ADEBAYO OMO ADENIYI the foundation of foundations.

The squirrel that turns on the hunter, the earth whose dust rises to the heavens.

The fire that consumes its enemies so much their rivers dry up.

The son of the sun and servant of the moon, I took salvation from misery.

Your souls for our freedom, your sweat for our peace of mind.

Plough their fields, tend their cattle.

Remember that your mothers will live to see her children’s children because of you.

Generations will celebrate your sacrifice and sing songs in your name,

For today we sell your freedom and in turn purchase ours.”


Now I cannot sleep, I prefer certain death over this uncertainty.

In that cold cage I hear these hushed words:







It is my father, there is no mistaking it; he is here to free me.

The guards are all asleep; I might escape fate yet

Before long we’re neck deep in the bushes with the spirits not far behind.

They carry strange tools and huge whips.

BOOM!!! And my father comes crashing to the ground in his own pool of blood.

At this point I’m all sorts of confused, should I run fast or risk capture?

I have never seen so much blood; he mumbles his last words while I watch in absolute horror.


“My sweat, my blood, my pride.

I cry in your arms as I meet my fathers.

You see my tears, drink them and remember the salty taste.

Look upon my wound and never forget the sight of my blood.

For life and death are opposite sides of the same face, turn head and your time is done.

Death is not the end, only the beginning.

Run, never look back and when you do, make them pay in blood.”







Hallo there, this is the second part of the DANCING IN THE RAIN SERIES, you might not understand this post if you didn’t read the first one, #Clickhere to read. This is not the last of this series though, just so you know. Enjoy!


I make for her, but for some reason I cannot move.

I search the crowd for father; he is nowhere to be found.


“Mama mi o, my soul is unworthy they say.

Of life and of family, of wife and of battle.

Orisa has found blemishes in my heart and sin in my soul.

I am the weed that was planted amongst crops,

But weed cannot be allowed to grow alongside crops, this I understand.

My life has been stolen from me, this I know.

As the man they said I cannot become, I accept death with open arms and a joyous face.

For I know death is a gift, but only to the righteous”


But no priestess of ILU OLORUN ever dies a normal death.

The last one burnt herself alive, she couldn’t bear the burden of the gods.

The one before the last one; the spirits strangled her in her sleep.

Orisa chose women without fear, without the fear of men and of death.

My mother – ‘Adenike’ the fire priestess wasn’t going to watch her child die here.

In an instant she vanished from where she collapsed and appeared at my side.


“Emi Adenike Omo Adebisi,

I will protect my child with my life.

Fire will erase my enemies and lay waste to their lands.

For generations will remember this day and wish their ancestors were wiser.

For you cannot harm the child of the earth and leave without a scratch.

You do not attack the child of the boar and go home with your head in place.”


Suddenly my mother screams.

She comes crashing to the ground by my side,

I put my head on her chest and she was gone, murdered right before my eyes.


“My heart has been gorged.

Send my soul to hell now, for I have no reason to live.

You whose breasts I suckled upon; death has snatched you.

Taken away from my grasp; beyond the reach of breathing souls.”


With the whole village watching, my mother breathed her last.


“Your time is at an end oh lioness of old.

You have sent many a child to the underworld.

Yet the time of your cub comes and you dare play god?

There are no gods among men, only gods among gods”


Someone from the crowd screams:


“He is not fit to become man; his blood is what we want.

He is an abomination; his death we crave.

The land has been soiled, atonement must be made.

For we will seize revenge with our bare hands if need be”


Oba AKINBOWALE ADEBAYO ODEYEMI II of ILU OLORUN who had been observing silently,

Finally decides to break words.


“Our lioness is taken from us, the gods know best.

We will mourn her death for seven days.

Let no man eat meat and touch his woman during this time.

As for the misfits, they are condemned to IKU.

They will be sent to the evil forest, if Orisa wills them dead, so be it.

If he wills them alive, who are we to question him?

Kabiyesi  O”


We are seven in number, found worthy of death.

They stripped us bare and put us in cages woven with bamboo sticks.

We had no food for days, only small rations of water.

After three days my mind was as weak of my body.

Memories of my mother kept me alive and hope for my father kept me going.

We were all kept in different cells, with guards watching even as we inhaled air.

Then on the third night, my cell was opened.

Blindfolded with our feet tied and our hands and necks chained we were lead away.

By the time I opened my eyes, I saw the King, his guards, some chiefs and ‘spirit looking beings in strange garments’.

They have come for me I thought, my time to die is here.