Oh Nigeria!

Why are most Nigerians being denied these fundamental rights by some Nigerians? What THE HELL is going on in Nigeria? Why are innocent people being killed, murdered in cold blood for simply coming together to speak up against police brutality in relation to other forms of oppression that we, as individuals and as a people, have suffered for years.

The Nigerian government has never been democratic; the people are not at all free. Rotating between the military and presidential systems of government all these years, although the recent and current system has been presidential, soldiers still oppress people on a daily basis, topping the abuse of power by the police. The so-called democratic leaders adopt militarism for their advantage, using military force to push their agenda and subdue the people instead of excusing them from military oppression. Our own people, the people that have put themselves in power by hook or by crook, are killing us.

The very people who are supposed to protect Nigerians within and outside the borders of Nigeria kill Nigerian boys, girls, men and women on a daily basis for simply existing. The Nigerian police force as a whole and the sections within it, especially SARS, are incompetent, poorly-trained and abusive- national terrorists, to put it lightly. The Nigerian army is a dignified body of authorized assassins who cannot adequately deal with the terrorists at the country’s border but are eager to assault and brutalize people on behalf of those who can afford their services. The democratically military government of Nigeria and its bloody oligarchy are it again. In a twinkle of an eye, my brother, sister, father, mother, uncle and aunt were shot, injured and killed right before my eyes.

I invoke and implore Ògún to prepare our hands and feet for this battle and victory, Èsù, the greatest law enforcement officer, to bring the evil authorities and powers to book, and Kábíyèsí Sàngó, asángiri alàgiri, to break the walls that hide the places where the evil sit, burning them. I ask Ọya to tear every perpetrator and aid of these crimes against humanity to shreds. Ọ̀sun, fill the bellies and feet of the wicked with boiling hot water. Obalúayé, give the unjust the gift of restlessness in every area of their lives. Òsanyìn, I ask you to heal the dying and restore the lives that are restorable. Obàtálá, give the bereaved the fortitude to bear their loss. Let us all see the bigger picture because it’s mighty tiny to see right now. Give us the ability to understand where plan and purpose fit in all of these because we are mad and upset, and none of this is making any sense to us.


Excellency Frenzy / Sexcellency

The ambassador 

to the Yonited Nations

is Sir Finger Dick

Mr Bean Ludwig Van Bacon

Alphabet Skreetz

🤣 Oh my! Prince, I ❤️ you. 😅

Edit: Prince has been on my mind and I’ve been listening to his music (back to back) since yesterday; it’s now 3:40 am. I just looked his birth chart up after posting the video (I was trying to see something 😜 ) and saw that today is his birthday!

Happy birthday, baby. 🎂 🦋 💫🌹☔️
Thank you for your energy. Thank you for your light.

Excuse me, baby
I don't mean to be rude
But I guess tonight I'm just not, I'm just not in the mood
So if you don't mind (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I would like to watch
Can I?

The Devil


You are the devil;
the one who buys souls daily.
The media is your favourite demon,
feeding your every thirst for blood.
You are the mind-control.

To climb ladders of prestige,
people lose their souls to you.
Each one loses their sense of self,
renewing their sacrifice to you,
to be kept in the front pages.

You are a little less than inhumane.
Spirits and smiles die,
wells of passion run dry,
bodies become breathing shells,
when you make persons un-human.

You take the prize that has to be paid,
you make flesh your bread,
tears and sweat, your wine.
You are the media’s precious demon,
feeding its every thirst for blood.

You are the devil;
you are the mind-control.
Bodies become breathing shells,
people lose their souls to you,
to be kept in the front pages.

Between Worlds


‘Sleep’ by Renat Ramazanov

Do you know what it means,
do you know how it feels,
to be one of the living
at a time when you are dead?

To not be of that world,
the one you left behind,
or be fully in that one,
the one that is ahead.

You are able to move
but you can barely walk.
You are able to say words
but you can barely talk.
You are very sensitive
but you can barely sense.
You remember how to remember
but you can barely think.

You are able to hear
but you very barely know.
It’s hard for you to understand,
and so painfully so.
You are able to look
but you can barely see.
You’re hanging in midair;
you don’t have any wings.

To not be able to rewind
and start all over again,
or be able to move on,
and fly far far away.

Do you know what it means
when everything means nothing?
Do you know how it feels
when you cannot feel?


Earth Magic Oracle Card

Fog is simply a low cloud, a blanket of water crystals that has not gained the density of raindrops. The thicker it is, the more it shrouds in it’s damp, billowy arms. It can be so thick that it makes it nearly impossible to see directly in front of us. During those times, silence makes its own sound as we pause and allow ourselves to be enveloped in this shroud of impenetrable density. We may even feel as if we can do nothing but be still and await what is to be revealed.
Yet even within the thickest fog, we can be assured that it will eventually turn off as the sun’s rays infiltrate the veil. Once they do so, we can anticipate how the light and warmth will bring us welcome relief from the cold. As the sun continues to disperse the fog, our surroundings become illuminated, and we have the opportunity to continue onward.
You are enmeshed in confusion and uncertainty, and are unsure if it will ever clear up. This is not the best time to make decisions, particularly any major ones. Know that this foggy veil will eventually dissolve. Although there may be ways you are unconsciously contributing to this state, the greater truth is that this is simply a cycle you are moving through, and like all things, this too shall pass.
Allow yourself to feel confused – in fact, decide to be confused. No matter what attempts you make right now to make things happen or move in any specific direction out of impatience or frustration, you risk only creating more confusion and uncertainty. So, be still and patient. Wait for that first glimmer of awareness to life the veil so that you can see the choices before you more clearly and can then choose to align yourself with the will of Spirit.
– Stephen D Farmer

Tug of Peace

It’s a tug of peace

when you’re content
with no release;
you’ve lost total interest in
relearning what love is.

It’s a tug of peace
when you’re stuck in 
a state of painful bliss,
and you dread the old game
of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please.’

Tug of Peace

It’s a tug of peace
when you can’t and
would rather not see,
and instead of trying,
you find comfort in dis-ease.

It’s a tug of peace
when you’re a fire rat
but you hiss at cheese;
you don’t take classes
but you pay the fees.

It’s a tug of peace
when you barely grow
but rapidly increase.
You’re scared of life,
buying 0 at 24 apiece.

Sir Paul McCartney’s ‘Tug of Peace’ goes:
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
It’s a tug of war
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
What with one thing and another
it’s a tug of war
No no no no

It’s a tug of war
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
It’s a tug of war
Learn to play the pipes of peace
Pushing, pushing
Pulling, pulling
Pushing, pulling

Madiba and My Grandma

The Blue Room

‘The Blue Room’ by Mona Edulesco

I saw my late grandma in my dream today, Tuesday, March 24, 2020.

I was slightly uneasy at first, nervous perhaps. I found myself in my grandmother’s room—the one she used till the time of her death. Her bed was gone, and the room seemed more spacious than it used to be. There was a smaller bed in it, what seemed like a twin-sized bed with a white bedspread on it—I don’t think it was fully white. It seemed like I was trying to sleep on the bed, or sit on it properly, when Madiba (Nelson Mandela) came in. 

I ran to hug him, and I was very happy to see him. I clearly remember how it felt—very warm and comforting. My paternal grandma came in almost immediately after. She looked a bit different, maybe taller than she would have been at the time of her death since I did not see her months before. Her hair was covered, and I don’t clearly remember hugging her, but I was so excited to see her, to see them both. 

I woke up right after and faced the wall to my left, asking Archangel Michael to protect my body because I was in a vulnerable state. I may have been slightly scared as I did. Then I went right back to sleep.

Perhaps, Madiba and my grandmother are companions or members of the same soul group in spirit. My grandmother was Nigerian, and Madiba was South African. They never met in their recent incarnations (as Madiba and Bolanle) and I never met Madiba, so it’s pretty exciting.

I suppose ancestors are checking on and comforting those with active earthly incarnations because of the apparent fears/concerns that abound at this time. 

The Killer Queen


Our lives have drastically changed, 
now that La Corona has been enthroned.
Fearsome, terrible, and sleek,
waving as she casts her deadly spell,
all wail her royal highness, the queen of hell.

Some claim she pities children,
only harming a handful so far,
and that she is the opposite of colour-blind,
first attacking bodies with a lighter hue,
with plans to make those with darker ones blue.

La Manifique engages in a coquettish March,
striding as she takes many breaths away.

Whenever she pays her subjects royal visits,
she lights feverish fires inside them,
and in her presence, all lung-curses stem.

She makes prison cells of bodies and homes,
exciting and depressing, nothing in-between,
and in our daily bid to succeed her throne,
we pray that God takes the queen
and approves our desperate win.

Are You There?


‘Lonely’ by Sangeetha Bansal

Tell me, whisper it,
I’m aching to know,
is it a yes
or a definite no?
Find me in my dreams
and make it known,
’cause I think of you far more
than I have carefully shown.

Do you still think of me
now that there’s no tomorrow,
when ‘we’ means absolutely nothing
and memories bring painful sorrow?

Do you still love me
now that you cannot stand me,
’cause we don’t talk to each other anymore,
about as distant as we can be?

Do you still hold me,
now that I’m out of your reach,
and our vow to love each other 
has come to a ghastly breach?

Do I still matter
now that you have a wife,
and old things have passed away,
and you love your new life?

If you tell me in my dreams,
I’ll know if it’s true,
and if you say it’s a no,
I won’t feel so blue.
I miss you and love you,
and although I’ve grown,
if you say it’s a yes,
I won’t feel so alone.

For My Lady

Free Julian ‘Innocent’ Assange

Julian Assange

The USA must drop the charges against Julian Assange now! Stop hurting him, God damn! Julian has done nothing wrong by utilitarian, common-sense standards, which comes before any other, especially the haphazard decisions of a select few- otherwise known as ‘the powers that were.’

Common sense, justice, and truth should be regarded as supreme, regardless of the fear of anything- the apparent worst being death, greed, and myopia.

Websites: https://wikileaks.org/

Wikileaks: https://twitter.com/wikileaks