Humans, Geckos, Millipedes, Hairy frogs And Spiders

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 160

  Dead in a few hours, she lays eggs on decay. Digging deep into the moist earth, the blow fly followed, burrowing deep and displacing dirt and debris to reach its target. Here, secrets hide beneath the place of worship, created by serial killers. Fueled by the need for a leader, in this chaotic mess of a life not well lived. People desperate for magical solutions, flock to these false prophets. Fueling this horrendous trade of human parts with paid professionals or should I call them what they are.... Kidnappers and psychopaths, peddling their whimsical miracles to a hungry crowd watching and waiting for more, searching. But not much is hidden for long as a deep dark eclipse draws near and uncovers a sad reality. The prayers of the desperate multitude fall to deaf ears as the actors are revealed just as time ticks and passes on by.
    Humans, Geckos, Millipedes, Hairy frogs And Spiders all cut up, caged up and peddled for money, for the wrong reasons.
  As the truth is exposed and cut sacrificial pieces of people are buried beneath the entrance of a fake place of worship. The tales told by Kidnappers sound fake. The truth is that it's real and as worshippers discover this ugly side to their false prophets. They band together and chat about maybe that's why their miracles didn't come, maybe there is some truth to the rumors
   Angry followers decry their failed miracles, drowned quickly by pointing fingers orchestrated by the wicked false prophets. Their voices dim the truth as blame is screamed at the naive crowd. This congregation has stolen what is mine, sayeth the false leaders. Empty all your life savings, so miracles shall look your way, also so I can open more houses of worship in the land of decay. Prove to the world that we are true worshippers, let's spread our noise and buildings, as prosperity prospers.
 Confusion reigns as loud voices reduces to a whisper of doubt. Maybe its not our prophet, God would not answer our prayers if that kind of atrocity happened here, right?
   Words I hear from confused people, what do I know? I'm just a blow fly.
  So I do what blow flies do, I dance amid the buried corpses, laugh as our population thrives. Only in this unique country of lies, peddled by the greedy, do many perish to feed our colony.
   But as the blood of the innocent victims, soiled and soaked the earth below, it made the concrete poured over the colony, crack with tears.  And give way...
 It was time for the truth to be revealed and a fued begins....
   Greedy kidnappers, fight with false prophets, angry at the bulletproof cars that litters the compounds.
 Don't worry just kill more innocent victims and maybe, I will give you one of the cars. He bragged and thumped his chest for all to see. Pathetic and sad yet said with much conviction, like a true psycho.
Their words spread more confusion as the death toll rises above normal and the tears of the victims seem silenced forever.
  Desperate to meet their quotas, the human part dealers kidnapped more than they could control. And as they do, live victims escaped their traps. The innocent returned with law enforcement officers only to be led to the false place of worship.
  In the forefront, A battered daughter looked on, seething in a whirlwind of confusion. As her grieving parents, hold on to the false prophets. The very men that paid her kidnappers with blood on their hands and buried her friends physically, deep beneath them.
  The evil circle of deceit is broken and it takes an entire platoon to stop the angry mob from burning the building. And only in the nick of time, because underneath revealed more corpses with millions of us blow flies hatching and burrowing upwards, at loose age old cement rising to the surface.
  A lot more secrets are quickly exposed, as the very people that were supposed to lead us to salvation are just using us, as manure. Fueling their evil trade with our blood. But what do I know?
    I'm just a blow fly.

Clash Between Men In Agbada's

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 159

   Coughing and tweeting the bird sang and tried hard to lure it's mate and failed. There was after all more to life than attracting a mate. She dug hard at the dry infertile ground and searched for a meal to quench the hunger, tearing at her stomach walls. His nest was scrawny and the twigs did not look like they would stay in place. Nothing about him looked good. Yet he puffed and fluffed his feathers and tried to make himself bigger than he actually was. Others had fallen for it and had eggs fall out of flimsy nests. The wicked rodents thrived beneath, waiting for the future generation that would never be.
  I pretend I don't see it all, the last friend if mine who voiced her opinion was almost pecked to death and left the clan, scarred, limping and alone. A one legged captive, a human pet took pity and sheltered her. In the land were no one returned from. She was lucky to survive the journey but her former home can never be hers again.
 I will escape this horrid harem, this barren land of wickedness. The question is how? I'm almost exhausted from trying, but I can't see a future here. On our border, the young flight prince appears. The one we fantasize about and dream we will escape with. He is vicious and I did see him attack a rodent once. He is the forbidden one, the one born from a queen that relinquished her throne. My dream mother, not the compliant one that brainwashed me into accepting this boring life. The hardest truth about me is that I am no longer a child and can no longer blame my folks. I am now at their age, that age of decision making. So I do the impossible and fly towards him. I am not his type and neither is he mine. My move shocks him and he steps aside and my clan grab me to stop me from commiting social suicide. I loose feathers and blood as I wrench free from the hold that tries to clamp me down. And in an instant, I crossed the forbidden line into a territory I can never leave. He looks at me and points backwards and my  opens their wings to take me back.
 Silly bunch, all of them. I do need any of them to rescue me. I have eyes on a goal far beyond them. My eyes are on the rich field of dreams. The fertile land everyone fights for, fights to be in.i want so much more than a saviour. I want to be my own destiny changer and that bronze statue in a beaded necklace calls to me. I will make it and bond on the way but I will not move through life like a freaking zombie....

Corn Curb Fresh And Lush

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 159

 Like a humming bird rotating it's shoulders and elbows and staying precisely at one exact point. I stare around at the mess and order that I am now in. The juice is sweet and I can almost taste it, that's why I am here. I hold on to my spot and sweet delight as I flap and suck on all the nectar I can get. The sound of hope startles and then grabs my curiosity. I am afraid, the women on this inflatable boat have reduced. Did the sea suck them out or were they pushed? Holding on is harder with the crowd and we all want to be that success story in the news. Not me, as in I don't want to be publicly seen. But if I am caught, I will be. People are not that sympathetic to me because my country is partially in disarray. Not like other war torn countries. But the reality is that my family is in abject poverty and I'm tired. I know I lost a lot of opportunities but I didn't loose this one. A radio broadcast reveals that my cousin was one of those left to die in the desert. Her journey was through the Niger, through the desert, she lost her baby and barely survived. Now she owes the smugglers back home and it is on my burdened shoulders to pay back what we both owe. I'm tired and I have tied my hands to the side of the boat, so tight that only deflating it can separate me from the boat. I see their knives and their eyes watching me. I feel the wandering hands attempt to assault me and I scream. Yes, I may be an illegal immigrant but my body and right to live is still mine. The idiot doesn't try anymore, whomever the pervert was. But I am still afraid to sleep. A hand taps me and I stab at it and miss, I am paranoid like that, Sleep she tells me and I'll sleep tomorrow. Not in words but by signalling to me. I have no clue what language she speaks but she looks East African. I feel calm and the slaps from the icy waters feel like a blanket and then I finally fall asleep.
  I wake up rocking and confused. I am helped to my feet and hear some Spanish. I made it from Morocco to Spain and the onlookers in bikinis and Speedo's watch us. I cut the rope and stare at the woman that let me sleep. Now we run.... I didn't know I had it in me and as we run, I pray hard and follow her, I hope she is going to work and not sell her body.
  In the bush, a bus waits and we are handed hot coffee and a sandwich. I taste the trees and pasture in the beef and swim with the fish as the tuna eases my taste buds. The bread is fresh, how I did not die from eating stale bread, I do not know.
 I have a week to start paying back, before my mother's home is seized by the trafficking cartel. I must free my family from this evil trap called poverty in Nigeria.

August 8th And All It's Goodness

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 158

 The predator is massive and swift but my beak just can't retreat. I dive and flap my wings until I feel the massive weight of water from the waterfall. A transparent barrier strong enough to knock me down and out. But not today, today the years of been battered has thickened my son and shoulders and my back. I am stronger because I have taken emotional tourture.
Today, I slice through easily and watch from the cool water wall.
  I'm safe for now abs happy.

The Hyena, Her Spot's And Stripes

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 157

 Life is never as simple as it seems and even though we are constantly brainwashed to conform to rules. We inevitably break them disbelieve their purpose or just do it to fit into the puzzle called life.  There is a crazy stage, an impossible pedestal we are placed on when we decide to break out. And the price for individuality may sometimes be exactly what the world needs. Or exactly a waste of time again and again. But like a blind mole, filled up with Delicious treats, the unstoppable urge to dig and find a way fuels me and fills me with purpose.
Sure, occasionally I have been knocked down several times by other moles but big deal. We are but creatures in arms and gregarious by nature.
 There aren't always people shouting and screaming on the top of their lungs, encouraging us to rise again. But we must remember we got into the ring and want something, the end goal should motivate us and remind us that truly we want to rise again.