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About Me

My photo

 My story may shock you, but then again your situation may be worse. Delve in and find out....
The best moments are the ones when, that affect people positively and inspire them to laugh and live. 
             But is this, the entire story?
 The Human experience is Unique and every person has something to give, you just need to see it from my perspective and I craft words, actions and events from this very human angle.

Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

Popular Posts

Wednesday, 30 November 2016

When The Carburetor Of Your Phone Isn't Working


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 87

     The salty tears flow as I leave my love behind prompting patterned beautiful layers of gray froth foaming and forming on top of my Atlantic ocean. The tiny crystals float then land and as it caresses my tongue, my anxious taste buds digest and dilute it all in my mouth. In that same instance, Cool clear blue waters of the Caribbean sea, soothe and entice me with promises of an unforgettable honeymoon. It’s time to go for Sweetened, with a natural tang from a plump ripe lemon without scars. And as I delve into the fruit heaven, I am happy as I expected, it gave my fruit punch a natural zing. Seems unlikely, seemed unrealistic that I am finally here, with my one true love. He tickles me and I laugh and turn to look into his loving eyes. Those eyes that are now mine and mine alone. He chose Grenada because he knows the Caribbean islands was always my dream destination. And that I loved my salty Atlantic ocean and didn’t want to be far from home. Even though, now home is where we make it, my husband and I.
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Busola Elegbede
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Saturday, 26 November 2016

Captivating Joy, A Tradition Revived


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 86

     Calm as a gentle sea breeze, drifting steadily upwards towards a lone coconut tree. Long deep roots, barely hanging on with corpses of soaked brown palm fronds, rotten from an absence of life and seething in an endless supply of lies. This battle of survival, this fight to dig roots deeper into soil breaking down and swimming away. A strong sea current rushes in and Yanks away the dead coconut trees, as I hang on and sway and refuse to break. The flood is rising, the tide escalating and my roots are newly hanging on. The salt in my battle scars cut deep and make me flinch. But I am not distracted by lies or my habit of withholding some truths. I am guilty no doubt, but I must not only survive but thrive and raise my head above water and sink my roots deeper. I must never quit and wallow in my mistakes. After all, this is the week of Thanksgiving. The season to be happy and grateful and just see the good all around. Yes, I will focus on the fact that I am still here, still on track and even if I am veering off course.. I have the sense to self motivate myself and get back on track...
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Wednesday, 23 November 2016

A Vindictive Rumor And The Stealing Of Nine Phones


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 85

   Tiny killer hummingbirds, fluttering about my delicious life. A beautiful life, formed from hard work and loads of love, circling all around me. As crystal clear sweet waters, also disappears and is sucked sucked dry by beautiful white Flowers steming from above. All distracting me from the inevitable truth, that I am strongly in denial about. Is the glass half full or empty? I wonder. Let me distract myself further by the latest news in town. But wait ooo, How does a film producer steal nine iPhones? One, two, three, four, five and then some More. Could it be the trauma of losing a cash queen as a wife? The now famous Yoruba movie actress is flourishing like a flower under a subsaharan sun. Wait ooo, or is it a sign of kleptomania? But we all know that kleptomaniacs don't steal for profit, they are almost driven to insanity with obsessing over an object until their hands feel the object. If this is true, then this is plain theft or common greed. Why are we all so obsessed with bad news? I wish someone would call me with a small victory like, I passed my midterm or I sold a book or my wife just had a baby girl. Not this perpetual woeful trending craze for a man degenerated by lack of honour or morals. I am craving good news as you can tell and as God is my witness, I will find it...
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Busola Elegbede
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Saturday, 19 November 2016

When The Bubble Burst, How Much Is A Head Worth


"ADE'S JOURNAL" 84

     Rocks forged for centuries peak and dive into the ground. Beautiful relics make the landmark a Delicious sight to see. But alas, civilisation demands it's price. No need to sugar coat it, the destruction of this monument is imminent. The road needs to be smooth and gray, the new normal demands this. Large monster's crawl up the road, now absent of vegetation. They crash and make all the track's ready for paving. The rocks are reduced, to large chunks and further reduced to rubbles. E never finish, a bigger monster gulps it all up and reduces it to a fine powder, spraying it all around. So much is happening and will happen to build this modern marvel. As the now grinded roads, solidly absorb moisture into the fine uneven powder, there is a need a fatal attraction almost to this. The unlikely road merges with the former former rock to forge a road. Very like, familial bonds merging for no reason. The worse that can happen is that the union breaks and is severed for life. Just like in the news, a father beheaded his step son and sold the head for five thousand Naira. Only. The sad value of a life gone, too soon. Truncated by an evil man feigning humanity, pretending to care....

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Wednesday, 16 November 2016

As I Hoover Around And Watch


"ADE'S JOURNAL" 83

    Drifting gently down a humid sky, the lone feather oscillates and then climbs back up towards a large super full moon. Anxious eyes watch it and ignore the feather plucked angrily away by a fellow bird stylishly invading it’s friends territory. At first, shock engulfs the injured bird. And why not? The attack was uncalled for, so what now? Sadly, It’s time to explain why I am lying in this grass. Yes, love enticed me to his eagerly jaws. Naïve me believed every lie that escaped from his dry ugly beak. I should have known it as all a façade, because he sneaked me into his quarters in the dead of the night. Never under the sun or any source of light. Didn’t even bother to get me drink, just insisted I bring food and water and myself. Shame walked with me, through the doors. The guard dogs, barked to alert everyone of my presence and I prayed the owner of the house he guarded  catch me. My heart beat increased awkwardly, but I was not scared for long.  Just happy to have someone that cares, although lately it’s beginning to look like an act. My friends  trust him and he claimed they were jealous, so I choose to believe him. The sight and stench from his uneven matrass beside a dirty stove and an old plastic chair, should have hinted me of what had transpired just before I arrived. The signs were there, but I refused to see them. As I drop my bag on the matrass, a bra strap jumps and lands on it. My friend quickly pockets it and my heart breaks again. I need to leave,  I’m traumatized. His beak sinks into my feathers and it hurt and then it stops when he apologized. His sister was in town for two day’s, that was his excuse and way of reassuring me that I should not panic. And like a bee hovering over sweet nectar, I am drawn in. Only my experience won’t turn to honey. It ends with him, wrapping me up in his dirty sheets and tossing me into a bush. And He Almost Got Away With It, if not for my friend. She too was doing under g with a vigilante, Returning From An Affair She Hid From Me, She recognized her jeans and bag I borrowed from her, now blood stained.  Her screams alerts the neighborhood and As I Hoover Around and watch, I smiled. This is living proof that Nothing Is Hidden Under The Sun.
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Friday, 11 November 2016

A Forgotten Cooler Or A Ticking Time Bomb


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 82

  The intrepid cries from an entrapped he goat, does not go unnoticed. This early morning, it shouts and bleats and leaves an unsettling aura in the air. The reverberating sound travels and lingers in the air, as the short raffia entwined rope, tug's at its neck and keeps it and restricts it. The flexible make shift shackle, works. As unfortunately, its imprisonment, conjured for this very reason, to control the waste it piles up. Undisturbed, the traumatized he-goat stumps with cushioned hoofs at the uneven round waste, under its feet. This is the reason the meek creature is restrained from moving, not more than two feet. Should an animal, left for slaughter endure so much pain? Can he just let it roam free and eat the natural, plump fresh grass all around and outside the perimeter. Or is he doomed to spend it's last hour, on this uneven pavement. Forced to eat fertilizer fueled, dried preserved groundnuts stems, cut in a haste with a rusty uneven iron cutlass? Such is the fate of a trapped prey. And that my friend, prompts tales that swings into our lives. And makes us ask rhetorical questions like, is it A Forgotten Cooler Or A Ticking Time Bomb. The harsh truth is that, however you look at it, nothing from this moment onwards, is what it seems.
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Wednesday, 9 November 2016

No Place For Uncomfortable Truth's


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 81

     Growling hard and rumbling quickly, the need to devour the delicious meal in front of me escalates quickly. And then it disappears because I see you. The earth beneath you shudders and cracks, moving the table from its resting place. My eyes forgets the food and follows you as fear engulfs my every being. I  shiver and then simmer down as your stiff breakable dark wings take flight. Don’t feign innocence, yes you reading these words, staring down at me. You know my kind. Not just any kind, the one that thrives and more than survives. You have learned about my kind, through those around you. As they involuntarily shriek and scream at a single sight of me. That’s the effect I have on you, whether I’m mature enough to sprout wings or not. Crush me, if you dare. Hit me, try it and I’ll send flying into the air, toxic vapour haunting your memories. So that, next time you see me or my kind, you remember. But wait, I have not finished scaring you. Inside me, all around me, I attract a disease, several variety of ailments. All by design, forged to repel and yank you away from everyone you have ever known. I am less than two inches tall when fully grown and barely a centimeter high as I grow. I know you have guessed it. I am the cockroach that sneaked  into your life and now, there is No Place For Uncomfortable Truth’s.
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Saturday, 5 November 2016

Two Trains Collide When Hidden Pain’s Erupts


“ADE’S JOURNAL", 80

   Molten metal sets and forms a sleek beast, riding and sliding down grove’s of railing. The destination is clear, the aspirations are high and my outlook and demeanour sane. The cool air in the cabin is just right, as we pass nature untouched, absent of the chemical fertilizers that taint growth and also stimulates and feigns growth. I don’t care that another beast approaches, it’s expected. But today, I will not ignore the scratches and pain it has inflicted in the past. I will not pretend to be civil and act like I have not been violated by trust and hope. Today I am heading, straight on. I will smash and scatter everything. I will stop you all from guessing why I am a huge contradiction. And my rage is soaking wet and smoking hot, the cold air clashes with my hot rage, mangling around, forged set metal and slicing cracking the beast at odd places. The beast on ice, continues to skid and jump. And looking into the striped mirror, as it cracks under pressure and break apart by the by the revelation of the truth. I watch in horror as Two Trains Collide When Hidden Pain’s Erupts.

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