MARIJUANA

Marijuana,

Canabis,

Pot,

Dope,

Igbo,

Ganja,

Sinsemilla,

Mary Ja(y)ne,

Esskay,

Skunk,

SK,

Kpoli,

Tafe,

Ewe ola

Lemon,

Choko,

Smoke,

Weed,

Hemp,

Spliff,

Indo......

......all these names refer to a drug made from a plant whose leaves are harvested and dried, artfully rolled up in a rolling paper, lit up with a flame and smoked through the mouth for a number of reasons...ranging from the truth to myths; superstitions to old uncles' tales; wordaroundtown to streetsagacity...even well spiced and spruced gibberish and balderdash on the internet.

So much stuff have been written about this mystery grass- some of them lofty...some stemming from prejudiced opinions...some outrightly stupid!!!

Marijuana has the ability to...

...Make stale akara taste like freshly made shawarma,

...Make mouldy Agege bread taste like freshly baked pizza,

...Make watery sugarless akamu taste like chilled cranberry juice,

...Make a night market in Ajegunle with kerosene lamps everywhere look like the streets of Las Vegas..

...Make a staircase appear on the expressway.

....Make an octogenarian look like Tonto Dike,

....Make the mouth perpetually hungry even when the stomach is bursting with uberbellefullness.

...Make you laugh yourself to tears even when there is no joke.

..Make eyes red as a baboon's rump and mouths dry as unprocessed ponmo,

....Marijuana can do many wonderful things.

Anyways, I don't know much, but this one thing I know, I am gonna tell ya.

Smoking marijuana is like a journey toward a cliff. Some will take a few steps and quickly realise, then stop.

Some will walk quickly toward the cliff and take a detour to the land of addiction.

While some will walk toward the cliff and fall headlong, splattering onto welcoming rocks of insanity.

Now, there is no way to know who will take this suicidal journey before their first drag of smoke.

Just like a lotto advert once said "e fit be you o!"

Yes, you may have heard that it makes some people smarter, read better, more alert, understand more clearly, become more confident.....but then you have to embark on the journey first to discover how it would work for you.

The outcome of your journey toward the cliff is not what you can determine.

You may just be the one to fall off the cliff!

Marijuana is very common around us...more common than mosquitoes and I am sure that if you know the right direction to walk, a seller is less than a 15minute walk from where you are right now.

My young friends,

THE RISK IS TOO RISKY TO RISK!

You can do all you need to do to be that superstar you see in your dreams...YOU CAN WITHOUT MARIJUANA !

Trust me on this...YOU CAN!

Be blessed.

KUNLE OMOPE

OSHAKASUSU

*** OSHAKASUSU *****

Before your tomb,the wind chokes

O Oshakasusu the conqueror!

Even the rainbow turbaned lilies,

Wilt from the fetid breath of your bed.

You who had spirits for breakfast,

And smoky carcasses of burning bush,

Chewed with lips and spat through nostrils,

A lazy bunch with no punch for lunch.

Brown barks bottled in burning booze,

Lime and leaves lying lifeless in liquor,

Hots hastily hurrying headlong

Diving to death in your deep depths.

The winds of aging years blew,

Stillness from their carrions flew

Indeed dead bones rose again

The army by Oshakasusu slain.

They got high on arrested blood,

And the pressure failed his heart

They got liver to knead his kidneys

And drained his brain of his soul.

KUNLE OMOPE

Photo from punchng.com

A TRUE LIFE STORY

This is a true life story. Whether you'll believe or disbelieve it, I shall tell you still.

It was a cool evening and the small hotel that stood somewhere around Ogba, Lagos, boomed with loud music.

People milled around. Some were seated in threes or fours on plastic chairs around plastic tables. Some unfortunate fish that had just lost their lives wore carnations of onion ring necklaces and swam in the company of Otazi leaves inside china bowls of spicy soups.

Booze in green and brown bottles decorated the tables just as fumes from cigarettes and jedi kara(ask your neighbour what that is!) perfumed and clouded the nightclub-like atmosphere.

Then, the SUV drove in and parked before the large gate. A fairly huge man with a grey beardy tuft leading his face in front appeared from the driver's side. He looked like the King of Banana Island and smelled like the bulk room at Zenith Bank .

Alighting from the passenger's seat, was a young lady of about 20. She was so fair complexioned that she seemed to illuminate the night. Standing on a pair of stilettos the height of a scaffolding, she wore two articles of clothings....two handkerchiefs...one handkie drew a line over her bosom and the other struggled with her g-string in a PDP/APC-like tussle.

Arm in arm, they walked in...not stopping to join the open air party downstairs, but mounted the staircase at the corner of the hotel building- and then, they were gone.

About an hour later, a man arrived on a motorbike. He stood at the corner of the gate and made a call on his mobile phone.

A few minutes later, the young lady hurried downstairs and walked briskly toward the man at the gate. And then squeezing a wad of crisp currency notes into the man's waiting hand, she said.

"Papa, take four thousand naira, and help me give mama six thousand. We go see tomorrow morning".

The man mounted the motorbike and was gone, while his daughter hurried back up the stairs.

THE END.

KUNLE OMOPE.

Photo from tripadvisor.com

BREAK THE BALLS

                                                  BREAK THE BALLS

Chalk your stalk

Walk your talk

Break the balls

Night falls, dawn calls

Stick to the cue

Again, life's new.

When knots align in a plot

Change your spot

Focus! double!! pot!!!

and leave...

with a pocket-full-o-jackpot.

KUNLE OMOPE.

Model in photo- Ngaro Ramsom

TAKULAYA (A PARABLE)

                                                                     TAKULAYA

A parable....read.

Once upon a time in the ancient town of Hilahilo, there lived a very wicked farmer.

Takulaya was such a cruel man that his wife and children ran away from his house...their home. His malevolent exploits was aided by his possession of great and grave metaphysical powers.

He was so feared by the villagers and even the king, so much so that everyone avoided mentioning his name in their conversations.

Straying children were usually his victims as no one could really explain why these little ones usually developed stomach troubles whenever they walked around his large house. When this happened and the child defecates on the ground, the child would stool to death on getting home.

It was no news that Takulaya always cast a poison spell on children's faeces. This ensured the death of the unfortunate child within 24hrs.

And so it happened on this day, that Takulaya on his way back from his farm found a huge mound of shit right at the entrance of the wooden gate that led to his house. He smiled a wickedly joyful smile at another rare opportunity to throw a household into mourning.

He knelt down before the shit and spoke out the mortal spell in indecipherable incantations,

"Askranbatu atutubashay iskandumeyunta inakuwanoo ogbolomiyo"

As soon as these incantations left his mouth, the mound of shit exploded in flames, blinding his eyes. Takulaya coughed aloud and fell face first into the burning shit.

Quickly, a vision came into his mind and he saw himself in his farm and some young children looked down at him from a tall tree.

Next he saw them climbing down hurriedly like squirrels and they dug up and stole his shit from under the earth where he had buried it that morning when he answered nature's call.

After stealing Takulaya's excrement, the boys flew off like fleeing sparrows dropping off the stolen goods in front of the wooden gate that led to his house.

The vision ended abruptly and Takulaya realised that he had cast a spell on his own shit, which was now burning him up.

As he was roasted in the shitty fire, voices of wailing children could be heard from all the rooms in his large house.

The voices can still be heard today, especially at midnight. Even the smell of Takulaya's burning shit still sits still in the air.

KUNLE OMOPE.

Photo from: spenceburnett.com

KNEES ARISE

******** KNEES ARISE. *********

Indeed, these knees did the deeds,

But Knees tarry long and bleeds and bleeds,

For mercy, these knees pleads, peels and bleeds

Conscience speeds on bruises and Knees heeds her leads.

Pees feed these knees like a broken reed, an unwanted weed.

"See, Knees" the Creed is fulfilled,

Says He, who was on a tree killed

Arise Knees. Be healed! Be healed!

KUNLE OMOPE.

Photo from google

PS- When man rejects your remorse, give it to God, He forgives and heals.

MY FIRST TELEPHONE CONVO

* SPARE A MINUTE, READ THIS SMALL NONSENSE YANS **

The electoral tension has taken a break. The fever has subsided..... to emerge later in the evening of March.

....And so my muse is creeping on me from behind, kissing the nape of my neck with moist inspiration.....and here cums a lil wordsturbation on the screen before your eyes...

I often watch with unhidden dismay, my young nephews and nieces sitting cross-legged, making calls on mobile phones, while popping chin chin and I can't help but wonder how much the world has changed. Now, if your mind just called me old school, tell your mind I said, gerrrrrrout!

I remember my first phone call. I was about 7yrs old and was more curious than Adam on the day he was created.

And so, I had spied and copied a phone number from a Union Bank calendar in our parlour (it wasn't called "living room" in those days). With a pocket full of 10kobo coins in my corduroy kampala shorts and my face glistening from an overdose smearing of STELLA pomade (remember the yellow petroleum jelly with the fruity smell?) which my dear mama polished me with an excess of, I headed for a phone booth (yes we once had that in Naija) at the General Hospital gate at Ikeja.

A man was in the booth and he casted a condescending eye at me like "what the eff are you looking for here?". But yours truly was a barrack pikin who could not be intimidated by Lucifer himself(my papa na policeman and Devil no get gun). So I returned the stare and my mind screamed at him "park well abeg"

After he did his thing while I watched his every finger move 'Jamesbondly', he walked away, hissing aloud and shaking his mighty head that reminded me of Papa Ekene, the palm wine seller's bicycle seat.

My turn came, and I sauntered in majestically. Stretching on tip toe, I gently unseated the receiver, from its rest and held it to my ear. The tone made heart palpitate slightly. I psyched myself "fear fall down and die" I repeated in my thoughts, my virgin ear's hymen must be ripped apart today!

I rummaged through my pocket and retrieved the piece of paper where I had scribbled the Union Bank numbers on.

With a generous slush from my tongue, I baptised the back of the of the paper with enough saliva to trap a horse, and stuck it on the insides of the glass booth opposite my big scrutinising eyes. The paper tried to struggle free, but it was no match for my okro soup mixed spittle, hence it was held tightly against the glass.

Next, I slid a coin into the slot...and then two coins to be doubly sure. I punched in the bank numbers like a pro ( e good to dey watch film o. God bless LWT).

A Voice, feminine and pleasant, answered with a well practised customer service prompt, and all hell broke loose....I sweated and stammered and stuttered and sweated.

I can't remember the details of our conversation...something about how much it costs to open a bank account. I guess she figured I was just a curious, adventurous kid and talked to me nicely ( God bless her wherever she is)

Experiment accomplished, I ran excitedly back home to tell my story to my friends....with enough exaggerations and embellishments.

As I flew through the air in my corduroy kampala shorts, I felt like Superman...the flying man with the billowing cape, whose image was artfully crested on the crotch of the orange coloured pant under my shorts.

Enjoy your day friends.

KUNLE OMOPE

Photo from boothveneerspic.blogspot.com