Yellow Bus Tales. Part 3.



‘Iyana Ipaja!’
Various feet pound the pavement
And race towards the open door

The bus is full. The conductor satiated.
The fairytale is shortlived.

Fuel finished. Tyre tires. Passengers deflated.

Tribalism is brought to the fore
Nobody can win.

Bus Tales. Part 2.



‘I go punch that conductor o, make we just come down for our bus stop.’

Muttered breaths. Alcoholic threats.
Uttered from the backseat of the bus.

The conductor had no respect, they ranted in liquor speech,
Throughout the whole journey.

Wrong bus. Wrong bus. I cried inwardly

Love Don Dey Recession. Seriously.


This article is for the desperate. If you are not, don’t read any further. Read More

It Wont Matter Until You’re Dying.

A Little Poem to interrupt your Saturday lethargy… SORRY. 😀


These people are talking trash, you say
Distributing to people licenses to sin
Tueh! You spit.

These ones are seducing spirits
Leading people to their destruction
Hate. Hate. Hate.  You comment.

Oh, but the truth isn’t glaring now,
It can’t be.
It wont matter to you yet,
Not until you’re drawing your last breath
And at the same time trying to confess your sins,
So that He will open the pearly gates to you.

You lived 90 years, oblivious to the fact that your sins have already been atoned for
Past, present and future,
But you lived everyday on earth unsure
The truth you hate so much won’t matter until that time. That Dying minute.

Romans 4: 7-8



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Siennas. Toyotas. Peugots.

I see them all lined up at as I get to the bustop. And beside almost each of the cars there are car owners screaming.
‘Obalende CMS!’
‘One more yansh!’

I docilely walk by them and wait for a yellow bus to stop. I’m going to Oshodi. Read More