Dream Girl

Poetry

You're my dream girl.
Yes you are.
But you don't get it.
You're the girl I see, in my dreams.
My dream girl.

It's the same picture though sometimes it comes by day.
Dreams come in the night but vision flashes show up when I meditate.
You're my height, though taller on heels.
You're smart, you catch me in my words when we speak.
You're funny, witty, like Chimamanda meets Princess.
Our jokes are incomprehensible, like me talking to me in you.
Everybody stares at us like buffoons, they don't have a clue.

I get mad when my alarm clock beeps
Or when my friends tap me back from wonderland.
Or maybe that was reality, making my life the nightmare.

There's a snag to the dream.
I can see everything, even our attires.
I see our kids, though I don't know their names.
One boy, two years and a girl on my shoulders.
We're grown up, but couldn't feel any younger.

The dream is so clear, that it has me working daily.
I know you like poetry, so I get better at composing.
I know you need money, so I got myself a job.
Even my grooming, I do to keep you pleased.
I can see everything, but one thing remains...

The dream is so clear,
But it always excludes your face.
The haze of snooze ville shields you from my eyes.
So when I wake this time,
When I snap out of this recurring vision today,
I'd stretch, bow my knees and pray to the God that gives dreams.
I'd say,

"Hey God.
I hope you don't mind
That I'm in love with a stranger.
So, God please grant me this one thing.
Let my dream girl,
The one I see in my dreams,
Finally become a person,
With an engagement ring.
Sitting right next to me".

God, Please Pick Up

Naija
Photo Credits: Green News


Hey guys. So, here I am having a haircut at my favorite barber shop in Port Harcourt, Nigeria-and it is a cool place, with towel warmers and clipper sterilizer boxes and all. Anyway, there's music playing loud on the speakers. Then all of a sudden, the next music video rolls in. The song is called "Pick Up" and it is quite frankly one of the most popular songs in Nigeria right now.

The thing about the song is that most of the track is in Yoruba and I do not understand Yoruba. But that evening, having my hair cut, I got to watch the video. I have heard that song a million times before, but I didn't really know exactly what he was saying. But the video was pretty clear. The song "Pick Up" is about the life of a young Nigerian dreamer. He was basically driving around town, hoping for all the good things we want in life. He wished for a beautiful wife, a quality ride, a great house and...to be on the cover of Forbes magazine. We all have those dreams, don't we?
Photo Credits: Green News 

When you walk along the streets of Nigeria and everywhere else, you see hustlers. You see men, that hustle hard to finally one day...make it. I guess that's why the song is such a hit; he appeals to the pain and prayer of the average Nigerian man, hustling on the streets. I walked passed a boutique owner one day and he said, "This guy music go sell for Nigeria sha. See as im dey beg God" (Translation below). It struck me. I understand why the song is so popular among the locals. We all want God to pick up our call.

So. What if God says today to you, that yes...today, he will pick up your call? He has seen His phone ringing and He wants to pick up. What if?
Photo Credits: Tuale Naija

Well I read a verse in the Bible where God actually said, "Call Me and I will answer". In clear terms, He said it in Jer. 33:3. "Call Me and I will pick up your call". You see the verse says, "Call me and I will answer you and show you GREAT and MIGHTY THINGS that you do not know". Great and mighty things. You see, there is a condition. What are you calling God about?

Well, I guess God will pick up your call when you wanna talk about what He wants to talk about. I think your conversations and demands from God are important to you. But, I think He would give you the beautiful wife, posh car, beautiful house when you stop calling Him for these things. So, next time you call God, pause and ask Him for once, "What are the great and mighty things you wanna show me? What do you want to talk about?".

He has promised when you ask Him for great and mighty things, He would pick up your call. He also promised that every other thing you're asking for would be yours. So, let's change the request from the things of this world and move on to ask for great and mighty things that we do not know. Let's learn more about what God wants to teach us rather than calling with a list of "Things to Buy". God has promised; He would pick up the phone.

TRANSLATION:
His song will actually go viral. He's really pleading with God.

The Power of Alert

Naija
"The Power of Alert"

The sweetness of the double beep
As my screen displays the fireworks
Of a lightened background
My desperation put on hold

My heart catapulted to its zenith, by Zenith
As I see two zeros next to one ninety eight
Today I smile, and tomorrow I'd smile again.
Sharing the bliss of corp members scattered wide

We have been alerted, our accounts padded
Today, we shall teach with boisterous nuances
We shall save the curses for another time
Blessings be on NYSC



Nineteen Eight

Naija

Me, in camp, looking bored, as usual


"Nineteen Eight"

We were the elite
The hope of a dying nation
Our shoulders built up for her pains
Her last chance for survival
Bearing the saving grace nomenclature

We read and wrote
Studied and burnt candles
The minute waxes that remained
Proof of our midnight struggles
We ran out supreme
Fastened to the saddle
Riding on to the sunset
We heard we were conquerors
Knights of pure breed, they said

Now, we queue for mere food
Living out the hunger games
Princes become frogs
Fearing the kiss of the soldier's wrath
Hopping from hostels to parades
And everywhere in between

Fists are clenched
Shaken at faces marking vexed souls
Disorder reigns supreme
Threats and insults lord over the subjects
Scrambles for crumbs of penury
Have become our day
Savages we have become
Maybe we have been all along
For nineteen eight
For the love of nineteen eight

It Rains in Northern Nigeria

Naija




Today, the rains fell and they fell hard. The lightning colored up the skies at dispersed intervals and the thunder echoed in the distance. Earlier as I turned over and tussled under my covers half asleep, I weighed the severity of the corp anthem. "Under the sun or in the rain". I contemplated if the soldiers would enforce our daily oaths. Would they come marching into our hostels like they did in the dry days with their shrill whistles as early as five in the morning? Would their dripping camouflage draw more vile towards our lazy sleepiness as they cause us to roll in the muddy waters for daring to skip parade, even in the stormiest of mornings. I envisaged in my wildest imagination, doing frog jumps in rain water puddles and standing in my bare white Ts as the cold current of the morning gust flows across my chest. Whatever way I imagined it, today would be a different day.

But it turned out, no military officer came around. There were no whistles-only crickets- and we were granted extra sleep time courtesy of the morning storm. Time enough for me to transfer games into my iNote Prime. Time enough to go say hi to my friends back at the camp radio studio. Time enough to sit and think back at how much my perspective on Northern Nigeria and Islam had changed in just a week.

I thought about the first day I met my roommate. At the bus park, I wrote him off as a half educated Hausa graduate, the type I thought were churned out of their biased universities because no one could ever actually be good enough to graduate. He was everything that was wrong with the Nigerian system, another incompetent man in the system. But, firstly to my surprise, when we spoke, I noticed a distinct tongue, more complex than the plain speeches surrounding the region. He was Taroak, not Hausa, by tribal origin, one of the hundreds of ethnicities in Jos, located in North Central Nigeria. Still I pardoned my misconception. The misconceptions however became unforgivable when he told me he was a doctor, poet and professional rapper, the kind that organizes talent shows for upcoming artists. Reading through his book of poems and hearing tales of how his audiences sometimes demand for en cour, I was humbled in my narrow mindedness. Who would have thought?

My views of Islam have also dramatically changed since I arrived the camp. I've learned that Sharia justice can only apply to Muslims. Another scholar roommate of mine patiently educated me out of my stereotypic understanding. It is against Islam to carry out judgment on any person. He vowed that if I were to blaspheme against the Prophet, I would go scot free.
I was dumbfounded when he expounded to me how the Charlie Hebdo killings in France were unIslamic in their gruesomeness and such capital punishment should only apply to a Muslim and only after a competent Sharia court had found him guilty. Shocking the level of wanton destruction and death that happens when religion and ignorance come together.

He was asked about child marriages. He explained with passionate analysis how girls were only allowed to marry after developing womanly features. More; the veto power to give out a girl child rested solely on her parents, whose word was final on the matter, irrespective of the views of any Imam. Child marriages were therefore a result of poverty minded fathers and rich, perverted men having business transactions over the lives of innocent adolescent girls. The religion could not be blamed for the insensitivity of the uninformed who gallantly defend it.

I cannot categorically assert to his words, or that majority of Muslims would agree with all of them. Yet, the benefit of doubt that is my life view tends to think they are true. What I am sure of though is that, contrary to major opinions down South, rain does fall in the North. A lot. It rains so hard that you would dream you were home. It rains in Jigawa as hard as it rains in Benin. So, yes; I can personally verify that, with images to back up my claim. It rains in Northern Nigeria, among other things I was ignorant about, I now know. It rains in Northern Nigeria.

Poetry Week

Hey guys. In line with #theevolution Martison's is introducing it's first ever Poetry Week.

So here's your chance to tell me your opinion. What was your favorite poem this week? Which did you enjoy best? Why did you like it? Check them out at your own pace. Read them all at once, or one a day. It's your choice. You're in charge.
Leave your comments below and at the end of the week, we'd announce the winner. Okay. Leggo!

"Nostalgia"
(A poem about the joys of our childhood. If you miss your kid days, you should read this).

"Terrible Love"
(No matter how loving you are, people would always see criticism as wrong. I don't even like it)

"Dreamy Nuptial"
(Marriage should be honored by all, the bed undefiled)

"Escape"
(When life gets hard, there is a way to run away. A way to escape the difficulties, even if for a while).

"Jump!"
(Sometimes, you need to take the leap. What is God whispering in your ear, that you need to do? Jump).

"Clouds"
(A lovely photograph by Kingsley Obaseki. I hope the poem comes close in quality).

"Afterwards"
(A poem about the achievements of life. I guess I'm wondering, what the point really is).

All can be checked out in the Poetry tab, or by clicking HERE

So, let me know what you think. Awaiting your comments when you're done reading.

Nostalgia

Poetry
We miss the days when life was fun
When we ran like deers
Prancing across the overgrown grassland
Playing hide and seek
Thoughts only for the moment
Joy overflowing
Socks in patches of brown

We miss the days of yore
When our future was a mystery
Not even known or considered
When hormones were non existent
Restraint redundant

We miss the days
When we didn't have to plan
When mothers tucked us in
The day spent of energy
Eyes heavy from slumber

Now all we do is ponder
About the future but sometimes
We wonder about the past
'Tis a satire so named
The futility of advancement
A truth left untold
A melody yet unsung

So, today I speak the truth
I miss the days of yore
Before the rat race began
Before the rainstorm of denial
I miss the days when life was fun
Our socks in patches of brown

Terrible Love

Poetry
We would fight as I question your morals
Your mind would get vexed against me
I'd stay silent as you rant on in anger
It's what I've grown to expect
From me. From you. From this tango.

Today, I questioned your beliefs
I ran a railroad across your faith
I scattered your judgment, providing alternative reasoning
You didn't like it. I doubt you ever will.

So, may I become judgmental,
I wish it on my self.
May I defy reasonable behavior
As I cause commotion in our lives.
But one label I'm free from is the one that shuts the lips
A tape of nonchalance that everyone around you
Applies over their voice

So I pray we fight as you question my morals
I hope you repay the favor and keep me in check
But to stay silent? No. I can't do that.
I'll keep questioning, querying, offering alternative reason
For if I stay silent, I would miss the biggest label of all

I pray it stamped on my back
I'd carry it everywhere I go, my head hung high
That I was brave enough to say you are wrong
Even though my words make it hard to get along

May the tag state, "I LOVED YOU TERRIBLY".
Because I do, really love you terribly.
Beyond all our fights and my seemingly harsh words
I hope you see love. Terrible, terrible love.

Dreamy Nuptial

Poetry
Photo Credits: Gionee M5 Mini
Fingers clenched together in harmony
Underneath the blanket of the light autumn gust
The skies watch with goo-goo eyes
Grasses dance in admiration of harmonious bliss

The drops of the threatening rain become freckled scented florals
Each on her face sings of the perfection of nature
I take her under my arms, smirkingly flavoured with glee
The blonde that lightened the strands of my heart

Sweetened melodies of her soothing speech loosen my soul
Purity of wedding whiteness pale to her glow
Each step of our singular cotillion empties my thoughts
Save the distant grandfather's chime of the twelfth hour

We dance to the tune of fantasied minstrels
Adulating our unison with envious strokes of harp strings
Deepened melodies of gladness swell within us
An orchestra of bubbly sentiments stilling the seconds

The sun yawns a reminder of honeymoon night
The petals close with my chapter of singleness
We stand apart, or I, to capture a retinal album
Watching my bride elegant, a view till my eyelids forever close

***

Because marriage is a beautiful thing.

Escape

Poetry
Photo Credits: Unsplash
Destitute clutches of a broken soul
Torn between eternity and mortality
Constrained by the daily bread
But longing for the afterlife

Who can rescue me?
From this limbo of flipflop nuances
Today wanting to escape the boredom of existence
Tomorrow willing to conquer it all
Today intrigued by His concealing
Yesterday frustrated by the same

It's a twisted love affair
I wish I had known better
Maybe I wouldn't have leaped
Into this maze of uncharted desire
With the benefit of blissful ignorance

But since I'm stuck already,
Let's drive off into the sunset
If not for forever, at least for today
I call shotgun as you take the wheels in my life
So we'd chat and laugh, or sit and stare

Everything would be okay
As I kneel down and drive off in prayer
And maybe just for today,
I would escape this tunnel
Between eternity and mortality

Jump

Poetry
Photo Credits: Amazing Pictures
Look around you.
Catch a vision of the world that surrounds.
Peek, glare, glance or stare
But take a mental picture
Of where you stand and ask yourself
"Should I be here?"

Rustle the comfy covers that keep you warm
In the king sized nest you have made for yourself.
Get up, rest your back and ask,
"What am I doing?"

Spring to your feet and view the horizon.
Sip your coffee and spend an extra five minutes in your dining chair.
Query your world view and test your wisdom
Before you go on circling in this tree top world you know as everything there is.
Ask yourself. Really, ask yourself, "Is this really everything there is?"

I did that and it had an effect.
I realized that life was pointless and I needed God.
I folded the sheets and laced my boots.
I said goodbye to the tree squirrel and my blue bird friends.
I said farewell to everyone that said something was wrong with my head.

I took the leap and searched for Him.
There was no middle ground, only free fall.
I thought I would end up with nothing to show for it
With the world mocking as my head splatters on the pavement.
I took a chance and guess what I found?

I found love, I found peace and I found joy.
Fulfillment flew across my face with the evening breeze.
So, I plead. Step out of your fears of failure and unworthiness
The same fears of persecution, of hate that shackled me.
You know you want to. You know you have to.

The treetop of your simple life should not be all you experience.
God has so much in store for you.
So don't just perch, sitting there.
Spread your wings, catch the wave.
Your Father is calling you to greater things.
Answer the call. It's time to fly.
Jump.

Clouds

Poetry
Photo Credits: KingObas
Stare at them standing there
Under the gathering clouds of a southern storm
Pause and meditate
On the complex simplicity they make of their lives
Watch the girl, watch the boy
Watch the lad and lass professing love behind them
Look. Rather, see
How minute they may seem.

The rains would drop down heavy
They would go scampering like roaches
To the abode they call theirs
Alone, together; pause and ponder.
Hostels cramping personal burdens tightly
Each to hold closely his load on his shoulders.
Stare at the image and tell me what you see
I see clouds, grass, yes.
But I see a people burdened within

If I had the chance, like I always say I don't
To the lady in red, whose mum lies sick in bed
I'd tell her about the healing Christ bought in her stead
For the young man groaning in debt
I'd shout, "Look to the Lord for provision instead"
For the eighteen year old grappling with drugs
Talk to the Father, he'd hold you up
To the woman struggling to survive with her wares
I'd hold her hand and pray for blessings from Him.

So, look once again; scroll up
Stare at them standing there
Under the gathering clouds of a southern storm
Pause and meditate
On the complex simplicity they make of their lives
Ask yourself of their problems
Ponder on their pain
Then wonder if the solution
Would flow to them with the rain
If you don't reach out, or if you don't believe in Jesus
The one antidote to the world's problems
To the complex simplicities we make of our lives

Watch the girl, watch the boy
Look. Rather, see
That these people deserve to be free
Because Jesus died for ever single one of them
And yes. They need to know exactly what that means
No matter how minute they may seem

Afterwards

Poetry

Today I wrote another poem that tingled your senses
She closed another deal that swelled her assets immensely
He bought a new car, a Navy Blue Bentley
It's still just another week and another follows shortly.

Tomorrow is another day
The earth would rotate the very same way
Billions of men would flood the streets
The world continually in repeat.

I take a glance at it all
From a vantage point, hopefully tall
Enough to see that enough to fill the thirst
Is a goal never reached.

For we are a people mindlessly toiling
Cursed and boasting over sweat, feeding through suffering
Gratification accorded to the one who slaves harder
To get less time with his family and more pills
Nothing could be sadder.

So today I step out of the rat race
I promise to work hard, but purely on God's grace
Because one day, today would be tomorrow's distant past
By then, it'd all have fallen into place.

And afterwards?
I hope when we lay on our aged beds or rocking chairs
We would look at each other with smiles linking our ears
That we spent the days seeking His face

Wondering what everyone else did with their lives
Then we'd pass away fulfilled,
Knowing we found that elusive peace on earth.
And afterwards, peace forevermore.

The Evolution

Hey guys. It's been a while. It's really been a while. But for good reason.

You see, in life, retreats are always important. No, not the kumbaya, earth-loving kind of retreat, where we go to reaffirm our love for Mother Nature. Not the ones that we go to lock ourselves up in a no-technology prayer camp with a wide lawn and camper bedrooms. My idea of a retreat is much different from that. My retreat has yeilded fruit.

I'm talking about a mental retreat. One that keeps you in the vicinity of the ones you love. The one where you flash sweet smiles to everyone that passes you by and when you tune the TV for Mother to watch. The kind of retreat that no one notices you are on. The one you use to network your dreams for the future with the achievements of the past. Yeah. The kind where you hide your mind from the excesses of daily living.

I've been on this for a while. I wake up at home as normal as the day before. But, I am silent throughout, meditating and praying and working my head off. Checking my goals and seeing if they're still worth it. Reassessing the essence of life. Questioning everything you believe in, everything you see as important; taking a break and asking yourself the most important question you need to, at least once in your life. "What's the point?"

So, yeah. I advise you. Go for a mental retreat. Go to work. Go to church. Go for Friday prayers at the Central Mosque. Kiss the priest's ring after a weekend confession. But seriously, ask yourself why you do what you do. Why you believe in your prophet. Why you believe God exists or doesn't exist. Doubt. Question. Ponder. You'd be amazed what would arise out of it.

"If you're scared of questioning your beliefs, you aren't really sure about them". That's an actual quote. By me though, so...you can attach martisons.com on the side. There's gonna be a whole lot of new stuff here. Some more Nigerian content to appeal to my country people, also to market us to the world. Definitely more poetry; I have a whole lot of those written somewhere. Sweet, sweet, fiction and articles, I hope. And...wait for it...wait... Art and Photography.

Oh yeah! That reminds me. The first result of my retreat is what I tagged "The Evolution". Goodnight Godly Intellectual. Say hello to Martison's. 

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