Featured Post: MESSING WITH THE WRONG GENERATION

Photo from: Google

A SAR-crifice That Brought Real Change.🏮

If you're born with potential, Nigeria kills that potential, looks you in the eyes and asks you,

 "What will you do about it!?"

If you're born with goodness, Nigeria suffocates that goodness....

How about being born with God-given dreams and ideals? It doesn't matter because it's for the graveyard.

When you're born with wings and greatness, the Nigeria air and sky won't tolerate those wings. Your wings will be clipped by the system that abhors any competition.

Nigeria only wants you to crawl.

Those days are NOW GONE FOREVER I SWEAR.

The revolution will be televised.

The Judgment Day has dawned..

Indeed, there is an appointed time for everything under the sun...and its been a long time coming for those under the Nigerian sun.

Shape yourselves into emperors and queens!

We did it, we are doing it in our generation.

Inhale the aroma of a brand new nation.....

Inhale it on behalf of those whose lives were cut short by trigger-happy police men...

Inhale it for the poor man who was unjustly arrested, tortured and left to rot in so many Nigerian jails....

Inhale it for the hope of a better nation for our children...

Inhale it for those million dreams that ended up in shallow, unmarked graves...

Give a future Nigeria color and sound..

However, do not get too excited.

The monster that has been fed for a 100 years will not go down without a fight. It will fight foul and it will fight dirty. It will lash out with beastly  strength, it will conspire, it will infiltrate, it will use the oiled machine of divide and conquer, it will bite and bark and raise dust. 

My dear Josephs, stand your ground and look the monster in the eyes. Stand united, with arms locked and voices firm.

Never give in, never sell out. 

The battle line has been drawn...

The trenches are dug...

Take your positions fellow youths...

If we fail to right the thousand wrongs that has it's knee on the neck of this country now, we won't get another chance for 600 years.

If we fail in this opportunity, the comeback of the people responsible for how we are for the past 60years will be bloodier than it has been.

We cannot fail.

WE CANNOT FAIL.

Awaken the fighter in you

Arise oh ye mighty warriors...

Walk the walk...

Talk the talk...

Be peaceful...

Be resolute...

History will remember us as the ones who rewrote the narrative.

AMANDLA!!!!

©Charles Udo Sweet

Founder SEEDS

Lawyer|Writer|SDG

chxsweett@gmail.com

08186797465

#EndSARS #EndPolicebrutality #Endcorruption #NewNigeria #WokeNigeria #awareness #Liveyourlifeup!

My 7 Thesis

Photo from Pinterest

1. Everyone has the love they want. But it takes love to identify love; so if you think you don't have anyone who loves you, start finding the love you know. 

2. There's no such thing as 'changing' because you are human to adapt. Change is only acceptable when you have successfully found a way to adapt yourself to whoever and whatever.

3. You are responsible for your actions. Being afraid or scared of what you do is just another bad day in 365 days. You do not deserve to have 365 bad days.

4. When you are bold about what you say, be bold about how you listen too.

5. Emotions reflect in your thoughts and finally, your words. Watch how you feel.

6. Being silent means that you matured. A MATURED prisoner. (Listening because you shouldn't be speaking, and speaking because you have listened for far too long.)

7. It takes a voice to call out the living, and a yell to wake the dead. Oblivion they say is where the enemy resides, I hope you grow more knowledgeable for better days.

The Jazz Anthem Of Harlem

Painting by Rèmi LaBarre 

There is always something very unique about a city. New York is majorly popular for it's business moguls, Paris is majorly popular for it's fashion and romanticism, Eko(Lagos) is majorly popular for it's ports and exchange site (.... since the time of slave trading) and many others.

Then there is HARLEM. Not a city but a neighbourhood in New York, YES, in one of the major cities.

And just like Claude McKay pronounced in his poem " The Harlem Dancer" that the history of Harlem revolved around it's ecstatic jazz clubs.

The poem by Claude Mckay (The Harlem Dancer) 1889-1948:

Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes

And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;

Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes

Blown by black players upon a picnic day.

She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,

The light gauze hanging loose about her form;

To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm

Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.

Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls

Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,

The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,

Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;

But looking at her falsely-smiling face,

I knew her self was not in that strange place.

Link: https://poets.org/poem/harlem-dancer

The poem by Claude, who was a Jamican writer and poet, and a central figure in the Harlem Renaissance. In relation to the picture the earlier poet tried to paint, Udifae. Harlem was a part of Claude's cause and existence and he didn't just write from another's experience but his.

The poem "The Harlem Dancer" talks about how young men would gather around to watch not football, nor motor racing but a neighbourhood prostitute who would move strangely yet enticing, move her body to the obvious beats, muse and cruise of Harlem jazz.

It was indeed a sight to behold as Claude confesses to be bamboozled by the Goddess slushy moves. The line "Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise" upheld the fact that the dancer was none other than a mere caricature of the message of the music, in the hands of Jazz artists. 

And just as wavering as the disturbances caused by her elegantly shaped body, in that second she notices who she is and what she represents. In her own way, sending a message to the hypnotized audience and their stare, that she also was aware of what and where she is; dancing to the Harlem jazz anthem.

The Jazz Anthem of Harlem: A poem by Udifae

There was one time, 

Once in time. Where 

all did flow to the anthem,

The jazz anthem of Harlem.

Copyright Work:

Udifae©Read-a-magic

RONA

Featured post; THE MESSAGE by Charles Sweet, Founder of SEEDS.

The Message:

Do you ever-?

Do you ever just wanna disappear to the perfect haven you have prepared-

Maybe not as perfect but at least somewhere that hurts less as human than the world?

Do you ever just wanna have time to yourself, and your rights; dislodged from the thoughts and the nothingness of this world?

Do you ever just crave your own sanity, paint it in reverse cruelty, like a balanced dosage of normality and positivity?

Do you ever-

Feel like the who you are now is stained and reproached,

Crazed and bamboozled?

Do you ever-

Feel to melt away your insecurity, and your repressed troll;

Maybe sulk them all in your pillow?

Do you ever- 

Express yourself so vague, so unmoved, while you resign to being tired and worn out?

Do you just ever feel the need to be alone, your own soul?

You don't need clarity, it's your action that causes a reaction you can or can't handle

Have yourself the best, better than the test, the pest in your heart, your conscious mind or just as far, your subconscious man;

Have yourself what you deserve, there's no hate in your world now

and this is because you have filtered time, the magical hour, trapped in a bottle of sugar drinks.

Copyright Work:

Udifae©Read-a-magic 

08108100787

Imagine!

She was no far than ten

Human like me

He is Black

I know it is my voice, my noise, my cries

and i don't speak for a thousand me, just the one i know;

For in a thousand i loose the voice i haven't found,

The fire i haven't ignited

I know how i sound and it not a sign of weakness

Yes, tears

But not threatening;

I have an identity,

One which I have be bearing;

By how far,

I say a million

Thundering steps, stumps, thuds,

Hit the ground, destroy you worshipping maggots.

The roots are lifted, tasted before rendered "you-less"

and you have not a family, not the tree, just as they don't agree.

It feels strange now, 

To have you feel slaved and young all again

Scream your momma, she can't hear

I screamed mine while you buried my head,

Comfort your battle,

You haven't lost, i clipped your wings as you clipped mine.

In a twinkle, a blink, a mere passage of time, crippled by you;

Folded and stashed like a cloth that you see fit;

Hostile to the truth and you steal him,

His life, his right, his surviving fight,

That he is black doesn't put a bullet his in heart just as fast.

DARK NIGHT, BLACKED EYES.

Spent most of my days dwelling in shelter

A roof over my head and pains inside it's walls

Days turned years, years took me far from home and taught me to swim on my own

I froze during cold times and begged for calmness during stormy nights

I wished the fiercer fire that burned was in  a love that everyone would remember

The heat drove me crazy, I grew with this feelings of wild sovereign desire to find mine

And thereof I lived dreaded in reality, pulling myself from companies with less love to provide than comfort

Endangered my humanity to fake it as I was required to, playing like the king and Queen would usually do

I drunk peace in the abyss of my dreams, entered and not so deep into the drowning of it's fantasies

The night during the day brought rest of heart in it's sleeps and the battles I witnessed haunted my heart in the darkest of the night

While I play dead most times, resounding bangs of the fist of man claps hard around my ear walls, and out beats the pounding of my heart as it race fast

Of other encounters, my loud cries weren't noise enough to make my world settle.

In vivid explanations, I was tearing apart in a broken home

And in seeking to find and glue pieces back together, it just will only rain arguments and insults; blames and curses on high pitched voices

I feared staying awake to seeing my own precious victor's cry their innocence and wet the bed with pure drops of tears,I felt responsible to keep my tears flowing without a loud sound of wailing, endured one nights and more others.

The love I knew to find and relate to were in the pieces of the past memories

I troubled my progress with instant reminders of what manner of broken pain my heart sheltered.

Copyright Work:

Udifae©Read-a-magic

Featured post; The New Beatitudes by Charles Sweet, Founder of SEEDS.

The New Beatitudes:

Blessed are those who feel compassion in everything. The empath who never run out of love. Who understands that sometimes compassion hurts yet never turn away...
For theirs' is a peaceful old age. Their heart will know no regrets as they close their eyes in death. Angels shall spray a generous dose of confetti, rain shall fall ever so slowly and the trees and flowers shall all be regaled and lost in the dance of the divine as their soul takes a bow. 

Blessed are those who understands that their destiny is bound with the destiny of others. They have exchanged earthly place for celestial treat  and shall dine with gods. Welcome! To God's banqueting hall.. 

Blessed  are those who are in hourly contact with realities, who do not ass-u-me, or speculate, who are not carried away by the noise in a dead world,  for they shall never be taken by surprise. 

Blessed are you when you understand fully the harsh realities, the unemployment, the hunger, the pain, the cut-throat competition, the greed,  the tears of hungry kids and are willing to be kind and to show you care to a brother man.... 
You need no other reward than a sleep which in all the world no syrup can medicine thee! 

Blessed are you if you understand the criteria for loving your brother man. He who has love has everything!
He who is full of ego should be prayed for... 
Forgive them then brothers, for they know not how dim their hearts are.. 
Remember these ones in your silent prayers. 


©Charles Sweet
Founder SEEDS
Lagos
chxsweett@gmail.com
08186797465

I don't belong here!

I don't belong here, find me in the impressions of my fellow people:
Dress, as their eyes roll upwards to the highest strand of my hair;

Speak as they persuade my intonation.
Every thought they carry, I feel all and at the very closeness of my skin;

After all, I don't owe the world, I'm here to prove that it owes me.

To my people who will not leave my air unsanctioned;

And to the soil under my feet unswept, I don't belong here.

Copyright work:

Udifae©Read-a-magic