oh my gosh, it’s dusty here, pretty much cobwebbed.
yeah, dear readers, it’s been long since I posted here, it’s my fault. I was too busy to remember that I even own a blog room. I apologize.
Actually, henceforth, I’ve decided to be posting stuffs here.
what kind of stuffs will I be posting? you should ask.
I will post things that are entertaining.
you will get Poems, Stories( not just any story but real life stories, something that happened or is happening to me or anyone). I will also be posting videos and some gossip news.
Okay! Yesterday, my friend and decided to go on 14days poetry challenge.
yeah. infact I was supposed to post it earlier today but something came up.
But I’ll still post it…
So what y’all will do for me is to read and comment your most preferred poem…yeah, you will be the judge for fourteen days and on the last day, I will unveil the face of your favourite poet…my heart is already racing.
so here I come…..ring the bell 


My heart had been unstable
Just like the current of the ocean
Dancing to the sounds of the wind
Seduced thousand times by odd lust

You are the anchor
That holds my heart
From sailing and wandering
In the ocean of lust and all

The anchor that sustains my heart
From fading away into the beyond
Like the greens and browns of nature

The anchor that holds my heart
Keeps its fire of hope and faith burning
Without you, oh ANCHOR, I would have drown.

Right in the ocean of thousands
My heart fells firm and safe
Unmoved by the tides of odd lust and all
Thanks to you, oh ANCHOR of anchors.

The next one 


As a little girl, I used to be home alone
the mirror in my room was my world,
I twirled in estacy and in admiration of my reflection
every morning and evening,
speaking to myself and raising every
reasonable and unreasonable argument my head could find

I wore my mother’s shoes,
I couldn’t wait till I’m grown,
how it feels to be big and beautiful just like her.
I’d dress in white and use my headtie for veil
oh, I dreamt of walking the aisle with my prince charming
oh my God, I just couldn’t wait to be free from the walls of childhood. I couldn’t wait to be free.

Now here I am, grown,
but the beauty of the world, I’m yet to unravel
cos it’s entangled with so much pains and responsiblity
I can feel my heart aching and my shoulder hurting
maybe if I hadn’t worn my mother’s shoes
I wouldn’t be in her shoes
maybe if I hadn’t dreamt of love I wouldn’t be seeking for love
and maybe just maybe if I hadn’t wished to be free from childhood, I would still be within my childhood walls.

“The Only Friend I Had Wore Black and Red”.

Though it was quite late, I had to find something to eat, the night will never sleep if I don’t eat; I dragged my tired legs to the mini night market-I had a long evening walk earlier; the usual evening walk had something to do with a secret part of me, it’s something I can’t resist.
The night was cool, I rested my thoughts on the gentle breeze.
A line from the music I played earlier got stuck on my head
“…the only friend I had wore black and red”
It resurrected the feeling of loneliness and depression within, something strong but unexplainable.

“Hey, ogbanje!”
An unknown voice dismissed the illusive world, My curiousity was arrested, but I won’t be found yielding. I pretended as if I didn’t hear anything.
“Hey you, I know that you are an ogbanje and you can’t deny it”
it’s the voice of a young man, who could he be? It was obvious that he was referring to me, but I still didn’t try to pay an attention to him .
I picked a bread from the bread rack, owned by an old lady whom I usually buy beverages from; that was the only thing I could think of buying, I had no strenght to prepare a suitable meal.

“Mama how much is this?” I asked


“You no wan answer me abi…” the young man interrupted,
“…You think say I no know who you be?”

At this point, he was getting on my nerves, but I managed to squeeze out a fake smile.

“No mind this man, na joke im dey joke” the old woman laughed rhetorically, possibly hoping it was a joke.

“Ask her, She knows what I’m talking about, if I see ogbanje, I dey recognise them” he said to counter her unbelief.

She smiled at me, with a “is it true?” kind of look.

“Yes I’m” I answerd blantly, shock was clearly registered on her face.

“I talk am…” sounding like a prophet who just saw a vision for the first time.

“…I can never marry someone like you, Godforbid, you owe a lot to the person who have you the mark on your face”.
I stared at him like an angry demon,

“He doesn’t deserve to live” it wasn’t me talking, he has awoken something in me….

…Where Pains Can No Longer Reach You.

I know him,
I know him very well
He was the little boy that usually play with me round the well,
Blessed with a fair Chinese look
No words to define his handsomness.

Years later I heard,
“He died few days ago.”

The news tingled my ears
I hoped I didn’t hear well,
But it was certain,
He died.

How could he die? I mourned.

“He took hard drugs, and it damaged his lungs.”
Unbelievable! But he was just 19.

“He knew he would die,
he held his mother’s hands and pleaded”
“Mum, please let me live, I promise to serve God with my life”
Those were his last words.

If only she could save him
From the snitching hands of death,
Maybe he would have been the son she never had.

I hope you’ve gone to a place where pains can no longer reach you.


Picturecredit: #Pins

Where we Call Home. _by Epiphany._

Where We Call Home
(On Nigeria @60)

The lies that we tell to ourselves,
untold stories that we hum to ourselves –
stories whose words fail to haze in listening eyes;
stories whose history we munch at supper
when our stray eyes recall our youth-hood –
a past draped in ‘Responsible’ plaques–
so we wonder, “What are we doing here?”

Well, home is where we call here!

Those sweet tales we munch stealthily,
some pitch of ‘Vision’20’ vestiges…
Scoffs –at the ‘higher ups’, and their mis-reps,
a pitch firmly warped in Northern ‘illiteracy’;
Western ‘over-sabi’ racketeers;
Southern clamor –woolgathering,
and the Eastern hate for all things ‘un-theirs’.

Yet, home is where we call here!

Some creative spirit kips in our mother’s kitchen,
its joyful resilience puns lampooned comedies;
its six decades of intricacies flails too –at age,
at the many tethered unions:
‘Biafran’, ‘Bayajiddan’, ‘Omo Odù…’
Enrolment by revenue –
or by loss.

But, home is where we call here!

Isn’t it?

Well, I can only try,
to wipe the dry tears;
to sniff it all away,
to tell you my –our– story:
a story, not of failure, of a becoming;
a story, not of a nation, of a people –
a people whose home mirrors.

Happy New Month 🙃
©J. Olayinka Olarinoye (Epiphany)

You can follow up on his page to read more amazing poems @

The Journey is Yet to End

Ouuh (coughs) this place is very dusty (coughs again) where are the brooms, please I need a bucket and a mop stick, a lot needs to be put in place😩

Yeah yeah, Krietivenation’s blog is now back 🤓 we have been off for a while but it was for the best, trust me….and yes, we are going to be giving you something that will make you come back for more everyweek🤭.

Yeah, it’s no longer news that today is Nigeria’s 60th anniversary🥳🥳. Personally, krietivenation is wishing Nigeria and her citizens long life and prosperity. Can I hear a round of applause👏👏

Yes without much ado, I will like to go straight to the point.
This evening Krietivenation has decided to share an episode on how some Nigerians celebrated their country. There’s so much to say, but everything that needs to be said will be said with pictures. yeah pictures, you read right,😂😂. Also, we have a video for you all… calm down😄

But first, let me celebrate Nigeria with my own picture🇳🇬


so let’s take a look at other pictures…

Here this picture says _”we are imprisoned in our own country”_ or what do you think?
Someone described this picture with a poem. In our hearts we are hurt
Our ladies been raped
The weak being bullied
Our youths without job
Corruption in the air
Can we keep this for long
It now 60 years
Waiting for the so called change
When,where,how,which day will the change arrive
Raise up your voice and flag
Let call for change
Cast votes to the right person
If promises aren’t fulfilled kill him
We want the change at 60 now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. Written by David.
What is this picture saying? I think the little girl is trying to say _”Nigeria, please protect your children from the hands of rapist”_ or what do you think… I’m not really good at captioning pictures.😄
Someone has already graded the country. Nigerians ain’t smiling ooo.
Somepeople are about to deny their country…hmmm this is serious 😑
PUNCH NEWSPAPER… What a news on the 1st of all months😨😨
Forget about the reply, focus on the heading. I’m caught up with the word “TOGETHER”.
Some people are really having their fun…I love these attire😊😊.
Have you gotten your Rapsody? If you didn’t get any then you must have been indoor all day😂😂.

Before I drop the video, I would like to ask you; How was your day😊😊? Feel free to drop your comments and like😊😊.

Brought to you by Krietivenation.


Really missed you,
What have you been up to?
Had my mind on you all-day
Hope you’re okay
Miss our long talks
Nothing specific
Just watching the way your lips moves;
Very addictive.
Remember the way your eyes glisten
Like the moon in the sea
Too mesmerising orbs
Of pure beauty
Your Skin, like silk
Soft and velvety
Looks like chocolate
And feels like a cream.
The figure of a model,
Perfect and curvy.
Could watch you walk for miles
And still, be obsessed.

Anyway thought you should know;
I’m back in town
Been on the low
For a week now
But I wanna meet up,
Nothing big,
Hoping we could talk
Over dinner.
Wanna catch up,
Know what I missed,
Tell you about my experience
And how I lived.

Got you a gift
It’s a bit small
But worth a lot
It’s valuable to me,
More than money.
It’s round and shiny
Bright and a bit heavy
With a beautiful blue rock,
It has the Shape of
a heart on it,
A gold band.
I wanna give it to you
Hope you’ll accept it,
Cos all I want now
Is For you to be mine.



Before my lifeless body dances into the Mountains of no steps,
Hills that are not hilly,
Rocks of softened fleshes,
You must hear out my tirade,
With your ears pierced to the rhythms of its ugly diatribes.
My heart has been shattered,
And the smithereens are lost.
Perhaps thrown into deep seas to be eaten by wild fish,
Abandoned in the forest to be frolicked by wandering animals,
Scattered in the thin air for wraiths.
Love was my greatest enemy,
Our ways are embodiment of contradictory logics,
Love wanted this, I wanted that,
Agreement was far from us.
‘My will must be done,’ Love howled
‘To hell with you,’ I always said.
Like two bullies fighting for superiority,
Love and I were known foes,
His hard horrible hands were quickened to carve out my weaknesses,
But my wit was a bowel of everlastingness.
‘Who doesn’t need love?
Who can do without love?’
Love always asked rhetorically,
Even when He knew we both got the inclinations behind his incitement.
Love was my greatest enemy,
I never wanted to be loved,
Neither do I want to love,
For loveliness is not a lovely love,
So why should I ever be submerged in love?
Then I allowed love’s issue to get me intoxicated,
Out of excitement of defeating love,
I fell into the dormitory of love trances.
A lass caught my glimpse in this mystery and helped in the closure of my eyes.
I didn’t fall in love,
Like the bush meats fall in the hunters’ snares,
I slept, dreamt and woke in it,
All that could be remembered was the lass who stuck to my side in couple-like.
Indeed, shattering began to drill,
Nocturnality was the order of the day,
The love once hated became sought after,
Now more scarce than the fowl’s teeth,
Much scathing than a bleeding steel.
A taste had made my life tasteless,
A touch had made a drastic difference,
Which I never would have thought real
At times of conflicting love.
My heart turned a toyed irrresistance,
As I began to search for something where I had left nothing,
Lies and promises were my brothers,
Apologies and dreams were my excuses.
All were contending kerfuffles to my existence.
My heart has been shattered by love,
Dreams are dematerialized,
All that’s left is an empty vessel still in a thirst of a flower,
Love came laughing,
Enjoying the stupidity marked out of a man.
A weakness carved out by all dexterity,
‘Lust was indeed a messenger of love’
He is cruel and undefeated,
But excitement is much crueler,
The more I think about the dancing of the lifeless body, the more sanguinary I become.
But all must come to unfulfillment.
@Adesokan Opeyemi.



The land has forbidden you,
Worthless sons and daughters of avaricious hearts.
It wails upon your returns, screams at the sight of you, threatens demolishment,
For you have soiled upon it desecration.
Oh Returnees! Your feet are like that of Elephant,
So heavy and mannerless,
Dominating and inconsiderable,
That even the little ant dismisses its petition for colossal flesh.
The land is in a great distress,
For the ungrateful now trample upon it,
Not just as mundane inhabitants,
But as horrible pompous authoritative possessors.
Its wailing and screaming grow more thunderous,
Like a kid screaming for wants.
In need, you disowned the land,
In affliction you came back to it,
As if like a confused senseless spouse,
That jingles his pattern to a state of perplexity.
What then shall we say to the aggressive brags?
To the going ups and coming down?
To the imitative mouth that condemns the land for the pleasure of where it didn’t suck in the nipples?
Or has the Olukon refused to favour you?
Has disdain crept into your heart,
That you cannot bare the pain of seeing?
The land is indeed filled with troubled questions;
Sheathed in his heart that borne and grown worries.
Subduction emanating from the covetous hollowed mouth,
In readiness to vivify a promissory,
No, Let the land grieve and curse
For lies will beget lie,
Should it not, it will forever be encamped in mockery.
@Adesokan Opeyemi.

ORENTE… Ridwan. O


I want to sleep in peace and not in pieces,
Laying my head in your wondrous thighs,
Enjoying the frolics you unfurl,
For you are Orente,
The one whom I must marry.
Yes, I want to catch some cruise with you,
Trundling around in Germany today,
Embarking on hikes in Ibadan tomorrow,
Smelling the fragrance of Paris at next season,
For you are Orente,
The one whom I must marry.
I have philandered with so many a lady,
My thread has dared and interwoven a spicule,
My heart has been caught in midst of lust and loss,
But for you Orente, this feeling is indescribable.
This feeling cannot be compared to that of Romeo,
Nor Akin to that of Juliet,
But something much deeper,
Deeper than that of Sango and Oya,
That could intoxicate the Samson in me to reveal my strength to the Delilah in you.
Orente, could my exhausted pen be constantly filled in your profound ink?
Could I be called a nincompoop for your love ‘nins’ and ‘compoops’ me?
Could my past be burnt and buried in your glowing coals?
Could you hypnotize me like the horny demon that fell in love with the water maid?
Orente, I want to stare at the Hills and Mountains with you,
Trudge upon the hardened Rocks while our hands are entwined in lover’s circle,
Mimics the whitened race at your glaring presence,
While you laugh and laugh till your sorrows and past are forgotten,
Thus, interlocked in my lascivious arms,
For you are my Orente,
The one whom I must marry.
Fear and rejection defile humanity,
So long as they continue to exist.
If these are thought beyond requests,
And taken for no lust and Idleness,
If this feeling is equivocal,
And love is made to love itself,
I shall read this to them__the joys of all unions,
Should this day breed gloominess and meet opposition,
Never will my heart be opened to love,
Never shall I have need of sights,
Never shall a day beget smile but sorrow,
For you are my Orente,
The one whom I must marry.
@Adesokan Ridwan O.