GUY MAN AND HIS GIRL: Onye Na Nke Ya! A guy blocked a fine looking girl, possibly a recent chic of his, near my car. Because of the tinted glass they didn't know there was someone inside; so they spoke with reckless abandon. The guy chatted away in pidgin, the rawest of pidgin english, about his frustrations and near madness anger with regards to the girl's ignoring of his calls. Now, at first glimpse, indeed anyone would presume the damsel was dilly-dallying with such a tout just for the money. A fine lady would need as much dough as can be scratched, mugu or no mugu. I reasoned, from her classic garb, the fine leather handbag that matched, the flowery hair do that won't be anything short of the Brazilian stock, indeed anything south amarican, that the young lady was at least refined. I also reasoned she could be lettered, educated even, due to the articulate way she nodded and bobbed her head to the guy’s speech, but she hadn't spoken a single word. The romeo, nwa-guy had been busy monopolizing the conversation and venting his fury, albeit, agberoically gentlemanly, if you know how an agbero can be a gentleman, nwanne! "So, why you no pick, baby? Why you not answer one calls? I vex too much angry!" the lover boy complained. In my thoughts, this is a girl that should be playing with bigger, better and evolved minds. A topnotch chic, languishing here with this riffraff. I wondered what could bring her so low to such a agbero’s level. Then, she spoke, "It was not a total forts of me” (written as pronounced: I guess she meant, faults). She continues, “I was not have that of your numbers into the inside of that of my other phone you was call. How can me know it was you? I doesn't want your trouble of saying I too much answer boys numbers" "So, now it come be my fort, eeh-kwa?" retorted the bobo. But he quickly added, "Nne, forget, ka anyi na-agbada..." And they limbered off and away from my vehicle, headed towards a drinking joint by the corner. Guyman don win, baby still dey on top! Girls and the choices they make.

WHO DID THIS TO US? In Germany, That country that's dutched its language And dutched its cultures too There's too much Wind Energy That the Company which uses it For the generating of electricity Is considering paying its customers To use the over-available power! In Naija, Fast Forward, Rewind, come back : In Nigeria, This country that's mastered sacrilege And everything in the absurdities too There's scarcely any form of steady Energy The Company which should provide it And make the general public get Electricity Have been making its suffering customers Pay heavily for non-available power! (The Mac-Kadicou Phenomenon) Saturday 4th November, 2017 10:30am.

Dream On by Edward Taylor Some people go their whole lives without ever writing a single poem. Extraordinary people who don't hesitate to cut somebody's heart or skull open. They go to baseball games with the greatest of ease. and play a few rounds of golf as if it were nothing. These same people stroll into a church as if that were a natural part of life. Investing money is second nature to them. They contribute to political campaigns that have absolutely no poetry in them and promise none for the future. They sit around the dinner table at night and pretend as though nothing is missing. Their children get caught shoplifting at the mall and no one admits that it is poetry they are missing. The family dog howls all night, lonely and starving for more poetry in his life. Why is it so difficult for them to see that, without poetry, their lives are effluvial. Sure, they have their banquets, their celebrations, croquet, fox hunts, their sea shores and sunsets, their cocktails on the balcony, dog races, and all that kissing and hugging, and don't forget the good deeds, the charity work, nursing the baby squirrels all through the night, filling the birdfeeders all winter, helping the stranger change her tire. Still, there's that disagreeable exhalation from decaying matter, subtle but everpresent. They walk around erect like champions. They are smooth-spoken and witty. When alone, rare occasion, they stare into the mirror for hours, bewildered. There was something they meant to say, but didn't: "And if we put the statue of the rhinoceros next to the tweezers, and walk around the room three times, learn to yodel, shave our heads, call our ancestors back from the dead--" poetrywise it's still a bust, bankrupt. You haven't scribbled a syllable of it. You're a nowhere man misfiring the very essence of your life, flustering nothing from nothing and back again. The hereafter may not last all that long. Radiant childhood sweetheart, secret code of everlasting joy and sorrow, fanciful pen strokes beneath the eyelids: all day, all night meditation, knot of hope, kernel of desire, pure ordinariness of life seeking, through poetry, a benediction or a bed to lie down on, to connect, reveal, explore, to imbue meaning on the day's extravagant labor. And yet it's cruel to expect too much. It's a rare species of bird that refuses to be categorized. Its song is barely audible. It is like a dragonfly in a dream-- here, then there, then here again, low-flying amber-wing darting upward then out of sight. And the dream has a pain in its heart the wonders of which are manifold, or so the story is told.

IN LOW LIGHT Where Thighs Are dressed in tights In low light We dream tight Holding tight Climbing low heights In, and out of lights; Let love shine Let love moan and sigh Let's get high Let love rise high and moan and sigh And shine! Where Thighs Are dressed in tights In low light We dream tight Holding tight Climbing low heights In, and out of lights; Did you know I crawled back, to show My weakest strength And My strongest weakness Through your crevices now Did you know I'm locked, though it won't show In a prison by my own strength Strengthened in my own prison In this our embrace now Did you know Among everything I can show I can't show my own strength Being lost in you now Where Thighs Are dressed in tights In low light We dream tight Holding tight Climbing low heights In, and out of lights; Mouths don't speak Lips are merged Tongues deploy Are locked, and twisting, explore And there's strange speaking In Tongues On hips A lot are heaped A gripping gripped Both hard, and soft-hipped Heaped, and hipped, And Heaved Relaxed Where Thighs Are dressed in tights In low light We dream tight Holding tight Climbing low heights In, and out of lights; Scratches are caressing Massages are fondling In low lights And low heights Words are murmurs Mumbled in rumbles Folded like sheets In and out of lights I can't sweat dry enough Till I cry vomit, my stuff You take, receive my stuff And make me feel you want enough Not once, we'll still have enough Our times are timed by light By thighs, by tights And holding tight In low light Yet, The prison I hold myself is you All I see is you All I will ever see is you Because, You, started it first In high light Lighting up my heart With these words of yours "You are might light" So, IN LOW LIGHT Where Thighs Are dressed in tights I will dream tight Holding tight Climbing high and low heights In, and in, to your light! 8:40am Sunday 22nd October, 2017 **dedicated to #Amara and #Prince who had their Traditional Marriage yesterday and their Church Wedding today. (The Mac-Kadicou Phenomenon)

We Really Want You!

EARS AND EYES Fear is a mad son Always coming too soon Stubbornness is another His mad brother Born of different fathers Their mother The same wretched prostitute When these two make their movements Into your life Child, heed my voice, take five Move gently to another local government Fear is a madness son Whose soup is not hard to swallow Bitter, at last, in its digestion Destructive in its nourishment Stubbornness, that other mad son His brother, whose shoes will swallow Each and every wise decision Yet, destructive in its nourishment When these two make their movements Into your life, here's a choice Child, heed my plaintive voice Take five, take whatever strength Yes, You can! And move quickly out of your present local government These are my humble advice to your ears and eyes! (The Mac-Kadicou Phenomenon) Wednesday 20th September, 2017 7:22am.

IN THE STUDIO, Silent, no audio She works and sculpts Soon, the structure with its story crypt Comes to life aglow! **I Love Arts! Mac-Kadicou. Image Credits: first seen in a post on a friend's wall; Amie Ogbonna.

URI NDỊ MMỤỌ Na Amerịka Throwing chewing gum at the Army Does not make them shoot a bullet But in Aba, they shot several bullets! Na Cotonu Throwing 'Pure Water' at the Army Does not make them shoot a bullet But in Enyimba Metropolis, they shot several bullets! Na Brịtaịni Shouting from your balcony at the Army Does not make them shoot a bullet But n'obodo Aba, ha gbara ajọ bullets! Na Kano, Kaduna, Kebbi, Katsina Saying waka, shege, at the Army Does not even make them shoot any bullet But on Thursday, they off-loaded thousands of bullets! In the process, killing ụmụ Aba Ndị gba aka, na-akụ aka Ndị na-ejighị Egbe, ma ọ bụ Mma! Na ịme ụlọ m Writing this Poem Should not make any Python Dancer To come cocking his rifle Else, I will just put off my phone Head up to my Village Dewa Uri na-akwukwọ ede Ka ndị mmụọ gụọrọ ha uri Kamanu, Ọzụzụ Egbe-elu-igwe Kujie kwa we áká! Iwe ji m! (The Mac-Kadicou Phenomenon) 16th September, 2017 9:51pm.

A QUESTION! Why is it that.... Why is it so? That when I start writing Nigeria On my computer, As soon as I type N - I - G -.... The computer suggests the word 'NIGHT"? Is that right? Is Nigeria dark like night? (The Mac-Kadicou Phenomenon) 16th September, 2017 6:29am.

If you pin yourself to the ground, You can't touch the sky. Remove the fetters with which you are bound, And see yourself soaring high. Mental poisonings get you becloud, Your doubts, your fears, your heap of sighs. Plenty to do crowd you around, Don't just see nothing, get up, don't whine! (The Orji Mac-Kadicou Phenomenon) Tuesday 29th August, 2017 6:01am.

Abali eburula oche Imu anya mu na ya ji gbaa ndu! Mosquitoes ndi katara obi Muchasi anya Dika ha ňuru mmanya Zegachie na-ebe obibi Anwunta, nwa mpekele anumanu i chere na i bu nnukwu animal Lee, ka M gwa gi, Ike ga agwu gi. Abali eburula oche Imu anya mu na ya ji gbaa ndu! Net anwunta asachiela akwa Ebe mu onwem ga edina Lezie ka mosquitoes na-apiri akwa Mu onwem na-achi ka onye riri nice dinner! (The Mac-Kadicou Phenomenon) Wednesday 2nd August, 2017 10:01pm