Beauty

Hello Everyone. Today we have 'Beauty' - a Poem by Nzuri. Read and Enjoy.

Like fire, just like fire
Weapon of man's inhumanity to man
Mama says beauty comes in all shapes,
sizes and colors

Spite filled eyes,
They tell me there's only one type of beauty
And mine doesn't belong
Tears in my eyes I'm wondering why I can't Marilyn Monroe the pain

Scalded skin, eyes of a newborn; shy, unaccustomed to the light
I can't see the sunshine
Mama said the bomb wasn't meant for me The bomb exploded my flesh into sacrifice.

Singing in tune with the moon as it traveled over our heads
Mama rocks me back and forth singing to me 'you are beautiful'
She says beauty is the type that runs skin deep

Come on!
Get up on your relentless shoes! Learn to not be afraid
She reprimands

The bomb that came a little to early,
My infant feet that waddled a little too much
The help that came a little too late
Everybody is at the wrong place at the wrong time

Wrapping me close to her bosom
Eyes wide shut
I feel the bleaching sun burn the insides of my back
Warmth emanates from her bosom
Stilling the restless poisoned butterflies in my stomach

Pay no mind to the ashes
They are barely evidence
Of how brightly you can glow
With refulgent energy
She says

An uncontrollable desire to escape
A sickness firmly bound to freedom
Mama says true beauty is like words from a love letter

Singing in tune with the moon as it traveled over our heads
Mama rocks me back and forth singing to me 'you are beautiful'
She says beauty is the type that runs skin deep

I'm Learning to not be afraid
An uncontrollable desire to escape
The grave incident changed me
Scaring me beyond my skin

It seems like it was just yesterday
The air redolent of burning flesh
My flesh
Four surgeries and two months of rehab

A sickness firmly bound to freedom
Let the incense burn on both ends
I didn't ask to be a victim of man's cruelty to man

Can I get an escape route please?
Death maybe?
Death doesn't always taste good
It certainly isn't what I want to eat soon

Having calculated the rudiments of beauty
The world found me wanting
Teasing and taunting
Maudlin expressions of sympathy
They are oblivious to your type of beauty mama says

At first there were different clothes
Longer sleeves to hide the burn scars
I slowly realized that my family had changed too

Scars and skin grafts
My Mother looks at the monster I have become and calls me beautiful
Could the image in my perfidious mirror perhaps be different from what my mother sees?
Surely there is no beauty in my burns and scars

Dad who has retreated to himself barely looks at me
Beneath the scars
Its me Dada
Your last born daughter
I'm still here

Rusty anchors they are
Shiny gem you are Mama says
There is no space for your kind of beautiful here.

You are a staccato hymn
Sung in the midst of a world that has forgotten how to value silence

Mama says loving yourself for who God made you is by far the greatest expression of beauty.
I think my Mother is beautiful.

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This poem is strongly influenced by the works of three of my favorite Poets and contains some lines and phrases characteristic of said Poets. The Poets : Joshua Bennett and King Jasmine Mans of The Strivers Row and Sunni Patterson are incredibly talented individuals that i look up to.

  - Bunmi Victoria Adegboye

The Assassin.

I work in the dead of night,
when the streets are quiet and no one is around to track my moves.
Racing the yellow lights to find the gate open,
she's waiting in the room and so I just step on through.

You get in, you get done and then you're gone.
You never leave a trace, or show your face.
Should've turned around and left before the sun came up
but then it did come up.

Enter the morning light,
burning the curtains and the wine.
Stuck in a little white room with her head heavy on me,
her heavy breathing is the prevailing sound.

You get in, you get done and then you get gone.
You never leave a trace, or show your face.
Should've turned around and left before the sun came up
but then it did come up.

Suddenly I'm in over my head and I can hardly breathe.
Suddenly I'm floating over her bed and I feel everything.
Suddenly I know exactly what I did, but I can not move a thing.
And suddenly I know exactly what I've done and what it's gonna mean.

I was a killer,the best they'd ever seen
I'd steal your heart before you ever felt a thing
I'm an assassin and I had a job to do
Little did I know the girl was an assassin too.

-Mazeeno

Kola's Day

Hi there! We have a new guest writer with us today. The one, the only *drumroll* Mazeeeeee! ^_^ Here's a throwback piece of his. Read and enjoy.

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The hour was close.

The night was conspicuously ominous. The stars nestled quite edgily in the black velvet blanket, and the moon hid itself behind thick cloud plumes – even the celestial bodies were scared for him. The silence was pristine enough for him to hear his heart beating in rapid rhythm.

He swallowed hard.

He stared at the sheet of paper for the umpteenth time. His palms were sweaty and the trickles of sweat began to muddle the red ink. “This can’t be right” He thought to himself. Again, he punched the figures into his calculator, shook his head and let out a sibilant sound. These grades couldn’t be right.
But they were.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his sleeve. He was really going get it this time.

“Why am I cursed with a Nigerian Father?” Kola wondered. What would be his punishment today? “Most likely Ijoko Idera he thought to himself. His stomach started to churn. He re-enacted the punishment in his mind. He would have to sit on the floor, raise his two legs, making them parallel to the ground and he’d have to stretch his two arms forward, parallel to his legs. His father would pick a small wooden chair and just watch him as he served his punishment. If his legs ever touched the floor, he’d receive about ten strokes of his father’s leather belt. His back had grown so familiar to the taste of the skin of a dead cow. The last time he did this, he wasn’t able to walk properly for 2 days.

He heard the rumble of a car. He checked his watch. Daddy should be home anytime soon. The car’s light seeped through the creaks of his gate. Getting brighter and brighter. Compounding Kola’s fear.
Daddy was coming!
A shiver ran through his spine, weakening his legs.
He clenched his stomach and held bated breath….

The car passed his gate.
It wasn’t his Daddy’s.
He heaved a huge sigh of respite.

“Should I go and begin to read?” Kola asked himself “Perhaps if Daddy sees me reading, he’d see that I’m willing to change and forgive me.”

The thoughts haunted him again. What if his father told him to stool down? His body trembled at the mere thought of this punishment. One foot on the floor. One leg in the air. One finger on the floor. His body, arched at a demonic angle, and its full weight on that one finger on the floor. His dad would still sit on a chair and watch him suffer. If he changed legs, or changed fingers. He’d get a whooping.

He tried to swallow again, but this time a lump, the size of a grape, had built up in his throat.

At times like this, he wished he were American. He’d get a “grounding” or a threat for summer school. At least that’s what the Television said American kids got as punishment. “

His martinet of a father showed no mercy. His father was a professor at the local university and couldn’t fathom his son being a blockhead. He dealt with enough of those in his class. He had made Kola promise that the last time would be the last time Kola ever received any “red” on his report card. Kola had failed to keep his promise. He was going to get it.

The hour had come.

He heard his father’s car hoot all the way from the huge gate of the estate.
He knew judgment came in the dilapidated old Benz.
He knew there was no mercy.
The skies darkened further.
He looked down to his shorts.
He had just peed himself.

- Maze 

  (@MazeDaMouth)

Trust Me [ Prose ]

The beat pounded through my body as the
heat of the room made my cheeks flush red.
I smiled as I picked up the sides of my long
dress, weaving through the dance floor.
Swirls of fabric swayed around as girls
either danced with their dates or sat at the
tables that lined the walls, waiting for that
special person to come ask them to dance. I
quickly made my way through the crowded
room.
The cutting stares of the other couples
bore into me as I swiftly made past them.
My hand instinctively moved to the mask
that hid my face from the couples. I
stumbled in my heels for a second before
steading my self, standing straight.
My nerves began to get the better of me as
I walked. It's like dribbling the ball down a
court, Cat, I thought as I stood even taller,
doing my best to mimic confidence.
The couples' hushed whispers echoed in my
ears as I moved across the dance floor
looking for a face. His face.
The thought of him sent shivers down my
spine and sent a sweet smile across my face.
Yes, that is the reason why I am here. Who
cares what they think.
Enduring a ridiculous amount of pampering
and prodding from my best friend, Meg, was
very worth it if I get to be with him. You
should have seen her priceless expression
when I told her I was going to the dance.
She went as far as fixing up everything for
me, including my make up and this monster
of a dress. Don't get me wrong... The dress
was gorgeous, but I haven't been able to
breathe properly since I put it on.
The longer I looked for him, the more my
heart sank. 'You're so stupid, Cat. He's not
even here.'
Just as I was about to leave a warm hand
settled on my shoulder. I spun around and
smiled up before I saw the eyes that went
along with that gentle hand.
They weren't the warm chocolate brown
that I was had been hoping for. They were a
cool forest green. Sure, a mask covered his
face, but that doesn't mean I didn't know to
whom those piercing eyes belonged to. Anger
sparked and flared, making me hands turn to
fist at my sides.

Save Me - Temitayo

Hi there readers. :) We welcome a new guest writer, Temitayo. Read and enjoy.

I don't want to be scared of feeling these feelings again
I long to embrace them with no restrain
But the baggage from my past pose as obstacles
All my fears, steady doing the tackle

'Cause them ones promised one thing but delivered another
They were supposed to be there but turned away without a bother.
Seems like happiness is an endless struggle for me
I just want you to disappear and let me be

Moments with you, are brief but feel like heaven
Times when you gaze at me and I blossom
Times when white hot anger and hatred are all I can feel for you
How I dread going down this all too familiar road

I get glimpses of what you truly feel for me
But this paranoia is like a blindfold
Shutting out your love, only letting in my doubts
I'm bound by these ropes of insecurity and disappointment

Save me from my past
Faces in my mirror jeering at me
Constantly reminding me of what my heart has been through
The kind of hurt and let down it has managed to pull through
I'm just waiting on you to confirm my deepest fears
But what I truly need is for you to take off this blindfold and dry these tears

Tired of having to pick up pieces of my heart on my own
Its hanging by a thread and won't act on these things it feels for you
So don't allow me push all your affection away
This time let's put it back together and heal it with your love

Prove to me they're not all cowards
I'm too young to be feeling this much pain
Make me believe again
Save me.

- Temitayo
 (@Asiia_x)

#Independenceday - Musings Of A Nigerian Teenager.

Here's a throwback piece on Nigeria.

Photo - Image Faculty.

The nation of 'Up Nepa' and 'Our Transformer don blow'
The nation of Danfo stickers that read 'God dey' 'No be me na papa God' 'Wabilahi Taofek'.

A peculiar nation. The nation of Azikwe, Bola Ige, Soyinka, Achebe, Saro Wiwa, Dele Giwa, Ironsi, Gani Fawehinmi. *raises celebration glass*

The nation where PHCN unfailingly sends a monthly bill, despite my being on alternative electricity 23 1/2 hours of each day. The only country where cars from all around the manufacturing world daily grace our pot holled roads.
The nation of "...omo Naija ni mi. Naija l'obi mi si. Naija ni mo ti bere si ni ka ABC..."
The only nation of the sprinting olympics worthy gala/recharge card/tom tom/handkerchief/pirated cd's/car charger hawkers.

The nation of 'I better pass my neighbor generators'

The Green and White Nation
The nation of wazobia
The nation of overtly religious men and women forever waiting for their own 'big break'
The nation of Kilishi, Suya and Mr Biggs
The nation of ridiculous and pointless 'go slow'
The nation of owo, ego, kudi
The nation of Fela, Fuji, King Sunny Ade, Lagbaja, Dagrin

The nation of 'Owambes' and 'aso ebi'

923,768 Square kilometers of 521 languages
Home of eba, amala, iyan, lafu, tuwo, akpu, kunu, zobo, afang soup, egusi and miyan yakuwa.
The nation of THISDAY style and Elan
Oh great Nigeria of Okin biscuits and Olasco films

The nation that survived the Biafra war and the Abacha regime

Nigeria is all these things and a carton of Indomie noodles
The only place we outdo ourselves with the non-existent level of enthusiasm and optimism
Nigeria I hail thee.

Bunmi Victoria Adegboye.

Losing Love

Anyone who has gone through the agony of losing someone he/she loves
so much will still wish against all odds to have that love back again.
But sometimes a love lost is a love gone forever. No amount of hope
can bring back to life a relationship that just died a natural death.
Set yourself free, let your heart spread its wings and fly. Remember,
it may rain for 40 days and 40 nights, but still it will not rain
forever. One day the pouring will stop and there will be plenty of
branches where you can find rest. One of these is where you will build
your nest and start over again. It's never too late. you may find love
and lose it, but WHEN LOVE DIES YOU NEVER DIE WITH IT.

You cannot be a redeemer all your life. The best way to weigh a relationship is
through the test of fire. You cannot be sober with your mistake forever.

Don't let your heart run your life, be sensible and let your mind
speak for itself. Listen not only to your feelings but to reason as
well. Always remember that if you lose someone today, it means that
someone better is coming tomorrow.

IF YOU LOSE LOVE, IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE FAILED COMPLETELY. CRY IF YOU HAVE TO BUT MAKE SURE THAT TEARS WASH AWAY THE HURT AND THE BITTERNESS THAT THE PAST LEFT YOU
WITH. LET GO OF YESTERDAY AND LOVE WILL FIND ITS WAY BACK TO YOU.

When it does, pray that it may be the love that will stay and last a
lifetime. A woman on the rebound could easily fall for sweeping
emotions and be made to falsely believe that she finally stumbled upon
the right person..when what she just found is only someone to cover up
for the love she lost. A person who makes a promise with words and not
with actions may never live up to them.

Love makes us see the things through rose-coloured glasses. Most of the
time, we fail to recognise the danger sign that light up along our
way. This feeling you have nurtured for so long isn't healthy anymore.
You must realize that you have to let go now before it consumes you
and your sanity. There is always a time to think and stop. A time to
be sensible and not to allow our hearts to rule over our heads.

You deserve to be happy not in the arms of a person who keeps you waiting, but in the arms of someone who will take you now and love you forever. Being in love can be the most wonderful thing we could experience but if the feeling begins to consume and dominate our entire beings, then we have to stop and let our minds and not our hearts dictate our actions, Only when we learn to accept our fate and understand the meaning of our failures can we truly go on with life. Without having to look back and cry over the things that could have been but will never be.

Never settle for less.

- Hales
  'Xo

Love. Love?

A reader sent this in, and we decided to post it as a lifestyle topic. What do you think? Please leave appropriate comments below,

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Case scenario: You/Someone claim(s) to be in love with someone seen and spoken to barely twice but has/have been messaging the person on Twitter, Facebook, or Bbm? That's impossible. We've lost the meaning of love. For me, the only clue I have is 1Corinthians 13 in the Holy Book.

I can only say for sure that you can be in like with the person or just think, even assume you love the person, on the grounds of infatuation woven around a fairytale dream or hope.

Now what's Love? I'm not sure, but I do know that love is special and is not a word to be used loosely.There is a vast difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Nowadays being in love is said to be overrated and used as a means to an end; end more often than not being 'chilling', and 'setting p'. We yung'ins need to understand what love is, before proclaiming it.

For now, I don't know what it is, I don't know what it entails, but I have an idea, however vague. I have loved, I still do but haven't been in love yet.I hope to be in love someday with the right person.

What is love to you ? Please inculcate knowledge in me?

Because quite frankly, I'm not sure what love is.

- Temiloluwa 

  @Ms_Temms

X-Factor USA Review

This just in from one of our readers, Confidence. @cKonfidence on Twitter. Enjoy ! ^_^
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The Judges 

Yes! The fall TV season has started, and Simon Cowell’s highly anticipated ‘X-Factor’ (USA) has returned to our TV screens bigger and better... well, just bigger.

Simon Cowell

The British media mogul and talent show judge successfully launched the originally UK based show in America last year, but the ratings did not live up to his (quite ridiculous) expectations.
So this year, he got rid of the old (yes you- PAULA ABDUL!) and landed two new big and current names to the panel: Demi Lovato, and the legendary Britney spears.

Demi Lovato & Britney Spears

 These two have a lot in common…Now I know what you might be thinking…..self-harm, crazy outbursts, rehab (not to forget Britney’s head shaving) but no, that’s not it. They are both ex-Disney girls who have successfully evolved into adult pop-princesses (Yes demi is an adult! :p)

Demi Lovato

Demi Lovato (who is currently at No 1 on the billboard charts with ‘Give your Heart a Break’) seemed to steal the spotlight. To be honest, the constant bickering between her and Simon was more entertaining than Brit’s weird cringes and her shallow-seeming one liners. But not to hate on Britney, I was impressed by her technique as a judge.

L.A (Reid)

Not forgetting L.A (Reid), he was straight to the point and sleek as always, but we would much rather listen to Simon’s hilarious comparison of a hopeful with Dracula?!

Simon thought the addition of more star power will boost ratings- and sadly after Wednesday and Thursday’s premiere, it did not! (It even lost out to rival show-NBC’s ‘The Voice’). However, TV experts are predicting that the ratings would pick up as the season progresses.
On the other hand, after watching the premiere on Fox…I would say it was worth the buzz. Demi and Britney have received good reviews by TV critics for their roles as judges.

       This second season is looking very promising and entertaining; all thanks to the drama backstage, and the addition of young Hollywood (did I mention Nick Jonas and Justin Bieber will be joining the show at judges’ houses?!)
The X-factor will continue to air this season on Fox in America, and on other networks around the world. Will you be tuning in?

Musings Of A Nigerian Teenager

We have a guest writer. Here's Bunmi from last week's 'Poor Guys: Dating Material?' Read, enjoy and be inspired.

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The nation of 'Up Nepa' and 'Our Transformer don blow'
The nation of Danfo stickers that read 'God dey' 'No be me na papa God' 'Wabilahi Taofek'.

A peculiar nation. The nation of Azikwe, Bola Ige, Soyinka, Achebe, Saro Wiwa, Dele Giwa, Ironsi, Gani Fawehinmi. *raises celebration glass*

The nation where PHCN unfailingly sends a monthly bill, despite my being on alternative electricity 23 1/2 hours of each day. The only country where cars from all around the manufacturing world daily grace our pot holled roads.
The nation of "...omo Naija ni mi. Naija l'obi mi si. Naija ni mo ti bere si ni ka ABC..."
The only nation of the sprinting olympics worthy gala/recharge card/tom tom/handkerchief/pirated cd's/car charger hawkers.

The nation of 'I better pass my neighbor generators'

The Green and White Nation
The nation of wazobia
The nation of overtly religious men and women forever waiting for their own 'big break'
The nation of Kilishi, Suya and Mr Biggs
The nation of ridiculous and pointless 'go slow'
The nation of owo, ego, kudi
The nation of Fela, Fuji, King Sunny Ade, Lagbaja, Dagrin

The nation of 'Owambes' and 'aso ebi'

923,768 Square kilometers of 521 languages
Home of eba, amala, iyan, lafu, tuwo, akpu, kunu, zobo, afang soup, egusi and miyan yakuwa.
The nation of THISDAY style and Elan
Oh great Nigeria of Okin biscuits and Olasco films

The nation that survived the Biafra war and the Abacha regime

Nigeria is all these things and a carton of Indomie noodles
The only place we outdo ourselves with the non-existent level of enthusiasm and optimism
Nigeria I hail thee.

Bunmi Victoria Adegboye.

The Reaper

We welcome Konyinsola again, readers. Read and enjoy.
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Death knows neither pomp nor pageantry, neither poverty nor penury.
The reaper cares not who the devil sends for
He just creeps in unexpected and takes his victim,sometimes with grotesque gore

Death has no loyalty or friends
He ends the life of the young and old
Nothing more than grief and pain he sends
Could even take an angel, if foretold

The easiest of his prey are dealers
Money chasers who sell their souls for big houses and huge pillars
He watches patiently for a decade
For when it's the tenth year, he has his fun

Sipped the life of my friend at a tender age
Looking back, I just fill with rage
While the reaper laughs and plays with his scythe
Takes a look at his death list, and smirks
For another helpless victim is in the works

Could it be you?
Say a prayer before bedtime too.
Could it be me?
The reaper, with his malevolent eyes not be me he sees.

-Konyinsola 

(@KonYInsola_)

Mutare

Hey There Readers! We have a new guest writer, Feranmi ! Read and enjoy!

Mutare? I just did that to make this thing seem sophisticated.
Mutare is a Latin word.
It means Change
Mutare is Change.

Change, inevitable right?
Its amazing really.
Things change, people change, everything changes at some point
Why? I have no idea.
Funny enough, I was never a fan of it
Whether good or bad

I guess I just hated having to adapt to 'new' things
Looking back at last year, its been quite a year
So many things changed
Friends of yesterday are strangers today
Strangers of yesterday are friends today
But that's how life is right? Nothings permanent. Things are bound to 'change'
And sometimes I'm like "I can't wait till next year to see who's still with me" y'know?

But why do people change?
Well, I figured some get new priorities...like popularity even follower counts. Lol. While some just lose interest.
Its ridiculous.

Funny thing is, change is gradual.
It doesn't just happen
I look back and I realise that I watched as these things happened.
I watched as these people around me evolved gradually
But I guess I thought that 'change' wouldn't come about. But it did.

Do I have any regrets? No.

Everything changes for a reason.
As lame and cliche as that may sound, Its true
But that's one of the beauties of life right?
Life would be boring if everything was constant.
You learn from those changes knowing that there are many more to come.
Its like you can never get too comfortable with anything/anyone because anything could happen. 'Change' could happen.

I was thinking of a cool way to end this but I guess I didn't think enough.
Mutare.

-Feranmi 

(@Feranmiiii)

Being Forced - Hales

Hey there readers. Rebel Flair welcomes Hales, a guest writer. Read and enjoy.

You hardly even knew me,

So why'd you have to show me?
Why'd you throw me down,
And not allow me make a sound?
Is that why you stayed after?
To cause this whole disaster?
I was just a teen,
Did you feel good about yourself?

Poor Guys: Dating Material?

Hello Readers! This here is a special post. The topic is explicit enough. We gathered four girls to state their opinions on the topic. When you're done reading, please feel free to comment. That'll serve as your opinion. Bless!

- We have : Bunmi : @Orekelewaa ; Karen : @Karyn_AE ; Olamide Abdul ;  Yvonne - @why_vee

BUNMI

In putting together this article, I got the following responses to the question ' would you date a poor man?' A few people said : "I don't care if I get called a gold digger, I can not date someone that earns less than I do." Also "I can boldly say that I can not date a poor man. Especially if you are high maintenance, you want a guy that's going to fund your lavish lifestyle".
I'm my opinion though, there really is no guarantee in dating someone that earns more than you do "a not poor man". There's also the case of Rich partners that are tight fisted. That he earns more than you do

Time Might Tell

Rebel Flair welcomes Konyinsola, as a guest writer. Read and Enjoy!
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My Failures, a never ending pit
I wallow in, for lack of a haven.
I wonder if it's a catalyst
Or it's the devil playing Kevin hart with me.

Serendipity skipped my mail box.
Perhaps I shouldn't have coloured my threshold with a lamb's blood.

Now, I shut every door at every corner,
Dreading the too-familiar 'what if' questions.
and the same scenario plays out in my head over and over again.

I am restrained, I am stagnant.

LAGOS

We have an awesome guest writer here on Rebel Flair's MNTG : the one, the only Joshua Lean! @JOSHUA_LEAN . Here's one of his throwback works. Read and enjoy!

The sky is azure with promises of bigger pay checks and more suggestive spouses. The buses come in a little after eight, ridding their bowels of weary travellers as loved ones, strangers and the ever cautious pick pockets rush to meet them. There is small talk, there are laughs and sobs of reconciliation, tales told to little ears, the silent murmurs of men on business, the excited chatter amongst new comers and of course the unrepentant yells of conductors.


The air is sanguine with the smell of fried fish and the songs of the bread sellers. There is the increasing noise of screeching tires and blaring horns as indignant engines refuse to be mollified, they come to and fro..only to be reunited in commuter traffic. The afternoon sun is resilient keeping its heat above bearable degrees, the homeless guard their corners while expertly purchasing food with money they do not have. The area boys also guard their turfs..there will be no unwanted visitors.
The hawkers go about their hawking, scouting potential customers with eagle eyes while the police monitor the goings-on with pockets itching for trouble makers. A Toyota Camry runs a red light at breakneck speed, this of course is frowned upon but will be overlooked if the right words are spoken to the right people. Business as usual. Traders display their wares with enthusiastic grins to worried secretaries, school boys who couldn't care less, and old men too busy musing on halycon days. The okada riders will not be left out of the bustle,dangerously manoeuvring their way past vehicles and pedestrians,the bank across the street gleams in the sunlight with the debonair that can only be worn by a building. An obvious ariviste in traditional garb greedily counts money on the hood of his Mercedes Benz,making absolutely no attempt at secrecy.

Children walk with parents to the supermarket, thinking of the best ways to implement their pester power. Evening falls and the streets are more busy than they were in the morning. Prostitutes unleash themselves on the general public, cat walking (or what looks like it) and smiling just long enough for three of them to be whisked into a Prado. I stand up from my vantage point,my back hurts like hell. It'll be a long drive home and if anything the traffic will not ease, I still see the hawkers in their abundance and some beggars in wheelchairs who were construction workers six hours ago.


I smile and roll up my window, the fumes beginning to choke me. Men and women walk home to their families..despite the increasing reasons to worry, there is a strong feeling of hope, one that is unmistakable. I look as the lights of a dozen skyscrapers glow in the darkness..its beautiful really, I think to myself. I can hear the loud music of night clubs and the cheers of the clubbers..I close my eyes as the music lures me into sleep's feathery grip. This city on the other hand will not give in as easily.

- JSL

Joshua is the Shakespeare of our time. No wash intended.
-- More from Joshua? Unrequited - Clearly Vague

Mirror Mirror [MNTG]

Hey there readers! MNTG is hosting another guest writer -- A boy this time! ^_^

Okay, so this poem was written based on a plea to the Creator to restore the old him for just a brief farewell, if only that.

The Mirror looks at me with Disgust

The Person staring back at me isn't me

For Death took over that person at all costs

The one friend I had I threw away

Allowing the Earth's Vanity to shield me from my reality 

My actions regrettable, for karma's dolorous blow knocked me out