MARIAM ALAYANDE

If I were to tell you; you have 12 new chapters and 365 new chances. Would you believe me? I guess you would, but do you know that there is nothing new about the new year? As Albert Einstein said; 'Time is an illusion', a human construction. Crossing over to a new year doesn’t change anything, we don’t magical cross through a portal and ta-da everything is reborn. Therefore, the entire ‘New year, New me’ is an adorned balderdash. If you believe you have to wait until the date is ‘January 1, 2019’ before you’ll be happy to see a new day or do whatever it is you’ve always wanted to do or even make that crucial change in your life then, we’ve got a problem.                                The spirit of procrastination embedded in the realm of hearts wouldn’t be exorcised during the crossover. It's a new year, yet it’s the same old you. If you want to make any changes, you should start now. The begi...

     Christmas knocks at our doors hastily, the celebration of the birth of Christ. The weather in Lagos, Nigeria is certainly a heart-warming relief in comparison to that of Moscow, Russia.      As I accompanied my cousin Kike to shop for Christmas tree ornaments. I couldn’t help but think about the articles I read about 25 December being inaccurate as the date of the birth of Christ. Apparently, 25 December was first identified as the date of Jesus’ birth by Sextus Julius Africanus in 221. The origin of this date is that 25 December  was the Christianizing of the   day of the birth of the unconquered sun , a popular holiday in the Roman Empire that celebrated the winter solstice as a symbol of the resurgence of the sun and later was related to the birth of the son…      Well, Birth of the Sun or Son. Christmas is Christmas and that’s final. I’m not willing to let theories get in the way of my family’...

Pain desires to forsake my soul, Will I let her? Time flew away with the monarch butterfly, birthing generations of pain. Who do I give her to? Who wants the devil and her spawns? Do you? I don't. For she and I are no longer pallies, We are nothing but old acquittances, The fire of secrets that kept us safe and warm in each other's arms is now wet ash. The brick of shame we hid behind; shattered, You can go now. Go to your creator, No one buys pain around here, Be the epitome of karma, My gift to your creator, Torment and birth more generations with your creator, but utter not my name for eternity. THANK YOU FOR READING, DO NOT FORGET TO LEAVE YOUR COMMENT, LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE. WRITTEN BY: MA.TEMI PHOTO BY: UNKNOWN (No copyright infringement is intended)

Your best day is someone else's worst. The stars align for each and every one of us, but have you every felt like some days aren’t yours? 6TH APRIL, 2017 It was a busy night, the air outside my hostel smelled of suya and smoke. The usual night ritual with ladies and guys talking, laughing with flirting eyes, not to forget the cars with tinted glasses leaving the ongoing actions to your imagination. I have been chatting with this guy named Funsho on Instagram. He recently moved back to Nigeria from South Africa (I guess xenophobia will do that to you). He’s been asking for us to meet and I finally agreed to see him tonight but we are not going out. All we are going to do is meet up, talk and hang out around my hostel. He was punctual, dressed in a suit. You’d think he was going to the altar to exchange vows, classy but I wasn’t expecting that. He smelled like lavender with his brown inquisitive eyes and brown skin. He talked a lot about fashion as we played “WHAT YOU SH...

Fire, Earth, Air, Water, The elements; magic in its purest, Africa: the origin of life, The grace and glory of the sun beams radiantly in golden yellow; bringing to life the bronze terracottas. Intelligent and magnificent women, Ingenious and handsome men, Skin; endowed by heaven with a tremendous glow, Beautiful & playful giggles of younglings echo around the stream, Red warriors; the protectors of the golden land. Antelopes sprinting around the thick forests, Hunting and being hunted, Love, honor and integrity; the land’s cornerstone. When the sun kisses the horizon; each house gathers in front of their gold-plated huts to tell tales of their great lands, Till the sky darkens, letting the stars shine as the moon caresses the continent. THANK YOU FOR READING, DO NOT FORGET TO LEAVE YOUR COMMENT, LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE. PHOTO BY: African fair trade society. (No copyright infringement is intended) WRITTEN BY: MARIAM ALAYANDE

This time I tried to tell them, I let fear sink herself deep in the oceans of my bowel, Whispering the loudest scream for help, I tried to tell them he was capable of anything, I knew how good he was at taking what wasn’t given, He had done it before. I coerced myself into thinking it was a mistake, a mistake that wears a white garment and haunts me, My heart beats distortedly out of fear, I was free of him but we were unfinished, I tried to make them see beneath the charade, Beneath the happy masks, they didn’t. They couldn’t, They called me dramatic, Now it’s happened again, My soul violated without consent, This is my house, Yet it’s the least safest place I know, You take and take, This time I beg you to take it all, Take my life. For they won’t believe me, They’ll say I’m too strong for that to have happened, They’ll twist my perception of it all, Deep within it will haunt me, For every time my eyes open,memories will devour me, The shame will necrotiz...

You want a love story? Perhaps, a Bonnie to your Clyde or a Romeo so you can be Juliet? If you answered yes to any of that, might I remind you of how tragic they all ended. Well, this story I’m about to tell you has something in common, the ending is tragic. That begs the question: do all love stories end tragically? ### The afternoon smelled like lemon left in the fridge for too long and was completely covered with green mould. The sun in the sky shined gracefully in yellow, the heat burning up between her cotton shirt and her skin told a different story. Shiloh’s highlight couldn’t fail to sing appraisals to the goddess of sun, she beamed as though she descended from the sun herself. Shiloh had heard tales of Lagos traffic but watching her clock as two hours went by and they were still on the same spot was a different tale entirely. Mr Boye, the driver who Shiloh was starting to pity seemed excited to be in traffic. He...

No one is holy, our sins follow us like chicks and hawks. Tattooed over every inch of our body, covered with layers of foundation from the brand 'pretence'. Crucifying fellow sinners who can't hide their sins, no one is better than the other. We all are sinners! but some people's foundation is 'full coverage'. THANK YOU FOR READING, YOUR FEEDBACK MATTERS AND DON’T FORGET TO LIKE, SUBSCRIBE AND SHARE WITH YOUR FRIENDS. PHOTO- MA.TEMI. MODEL- JACKYLNE ADJIMANI. ©️2018

I know I should let you go, But my little heart can’t, I play hide and seek with you in the corners of my mind, Pleasure rushes through my veins every time I find you, I wonder if you knew your place, If you knew every day and night, The thirst for your lips makes mine shiver. A leash on this thoughts! This feelings escalate, I’m the lost one here. You’ll never find me, I hope he does. -MA.TEMI   all rights reserved.©️2017

Lviv at this time of the year smells like roses, with a touch of ‘wood’ essence, gloriously amplifying the antiquity of the city and the perfectly interlocked streets. ‘Summer vacation’ was something Agnes got to understand from those ‘all white cast’ movies with summer camps, a sprinkle of horror garnished with bad consequences for every good and bad decision made. It’s either she was over thinking or the universe was really giving her negative vibes, but it was too late. Arriving at the hotel as the Cab driver stood and watched Agnes unload her suitcase from the car, she felt a wave of relieve for she almost missed her train that morning. ‘My lateness would one day get me in trouble.’ Agnes’s mind wandered as she walked into the hotel. ‘Sometimes, I wonder if I would be late for my own funeral (that’s if I could).’ Her friends: Naomi, Feyi, Bethany and Seun got to the hotel earlier that day. Agnes was sure Feyi was already popping one bottle of red wine after the other exc...

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti", "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust", The cycle of life? My body trembles as the grains of sand departs from my hand, Conceding this calamity. A nightmare that has imprisoned me. My eyes betray me, My mind; dazed, My heart: struggling to find her atrium, Oh beautiful soul, How dare you play me? Your cries; in the tune of true love, You are a part of me, You were a part of me. My body ripped in parts to bring you forth. Your eyes promised me, All those sleepless nights, Our cries and laughs, You left before those beautiful lips could call on me. How dare you betray me? You stayed long enough for me to engrave all of you in my heart, This should be the other way round, Mother Earth never gave me a choice. How do I let go of this pink little coffin? How do I heal? What do I do when your cries begin to haunt me? O beautiful soul, You’ve become immortal in my heart, I pray you never forget me...