Monthly Archives: October 2012


Please note that this is not a scary story or any random Halloween thing. It’s something personal I wrote as part of my release therapy. I wish I could say “enjoy”, but this isn’t the case. I also won’t be telling anybody about the story behind this. Please understand. Thanks


There is no proper way to start this, and there are no words that would adequately convey my feelings. Yet, I can’t help but try….

I want to tell you that I am sorry, but I will not ask you to forgive me. I have no right to ask anyway; I truly do not think I deserve it. Despite my unworthiness, I am about to ask you a favor, no, plead with you: Do not hate your mother. Please forgive her. Whatever resentment you bear against her shall be mine to endure. She felt that she had no choice. It’s no excuse, but her pain was undeniable for even having to choose. It broke her heart, and broke mine, for we never meant to discard you. Your mother thought she loved me, but I knew better. I never loved her, but I cared deeply for her, and yet, I was willing to marry her just to make it work. I’m sorry to say that she made the decision for all of us…..

You see, I could not forgive myself for how things turned out for her, and knew that I was the source of her pain. She already wasn’t healthy and I was irresponsible…. It’s why I needed her to get better at all costs. I needed her to be able to move on and not drown in her self-loathing, so I paid with the only thing I had left- emotions. When she finally told me about you, I locked my breaking heart, crushed it into the vacuum that was my soul and hid the screams and tears behind clear, white eyes and a pitiless smile. I had to be strong, for both of you, even at the cost of my relationship with her. I made her believe that I didn’t care, so she could hate me. I wanted her to take all that rage, that self-loathing, the deep sorrow and throw it all on me. Hating me was the only way for her to move on- That was the logic my nineteen-year old brain could come up with, given the circumstances. Well, my ploy worked. She hated me alright. Loathed me. Detested me till she was spent.

I believe that if one tells a lie, then he must be ready to maintain that lie to the end, desired or not. If that lie is that important, then he must give his all to that falsehood until it becomes truth. If I was to be the source and focus of her hate, then I would be the devil himself. Even my best friend believed that I didn’t care about her or you. That was when I resided in the hell called loneliness. Eventually, your mother’s hate was spent and she nailed my coffin with a single act: she forgave me. She dated someone else and eventually got married. I’m sure you have siblings now, but they would be your half-brothers and sisters. I would think you’d agree that my disappearance from her life was the best thing for both of us. I would just be a constant reminder of her pain. Please, do not misunderstand, my child; she can never forget you just like I can’t. We murdered you ourselves.

Your mother decided to kill you before I knew about your existence but I should have known. I should have trusted my instincts about her behavior. Someone told me I should be happy at your mother’s “initiative”, while I was battling resentment. Apparently, you’re not supposed to be a big deal. Most people wouldn’t consider you to be a living thing, but you have a soul, my child. You are my child, and you were alive; no law by any organization or government will take that from us. I will never deny your existence.

I was a useless father from your conception to your death. I do not even deserve to be called your father. Yet, this does not stop me from praying for you every night. Thinking about you. Loving you from the day I heard about you till the day I get to see you in the afterlife. If I was to die today, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye, for I know I can still be a better man. And I swear, I have not rested in that regard. I still stumble, fall outright, but I promise, I’ll never give up. I will be the best I can be: a son, brother, friend, boyfriend, lover, husband and eventual father that my love ones will be proud of. You are a light in the darkness that is my soul, and I will never forget you my child.

I love you,

(Until I am worthy of being called “Father”) Dayo


The King

I had agreed to single combat, firstly because my kingdom was tearing itself apart from this man’s revolt. Secondly, I wanted to meet him.


Despite myself, I am impressed.


He is magnificent to look upon. He’s tall, willowy in appearance, but more like bamboo in nature. I couldn’t help but notice his long, platinum blond hair, that one eye is blue and the other brown. I look dull and grey near him, but to be honest, I am grey, and like dull leather. His charisma gleams like his armor of burnished gold….. It’s understandable as to why the people follow him; his personality draws one in. He just might be the one. He declined to wear a helm; he must be confident that I wouldn’t scar his pretty face. Even better, he just said he doesn’t need a shield, not for an old man like me. I must confess that his impetuousness suits him. He may just be the one.


He’s challenging me to relinquish my crown, my throne. Expected. He’s promising me mercy by exile? The laughter tore out of my throat with no restraint; I couldn’t hold my mirth back. “Come child,” I say. “Don’t disappoint me. Show me what you are capable of”. There is a hush as we approach each other. I know he has youth and agility on his side, but I have the experience of age. It should be an even match, as long as I do not let it go on for long. The fool is still telling me to reconsider. Like I would just give my throne up? Just like that? Ha! I replied with my blade….


He may appear kind-hearted, but his skill couldn’t be denied. He managed to parry my surprise lunge like a pat on the wrist and responded with quick and surprising violence. His control is superb; not a single wasted move. For every blow I manage to land, he replies with two. My defense is beginning to falter. To make matter’s worse, my shield is gone. He is pressing his advantage. I must be fatigued already, for it is not possible for his speed to have increased. The force of his blows are relentless. I really must have been insane to accept his challenge; my ego is about to cost me my life.


I’m almost spent, and he can see it.  He’s bearing down on me. By the gods, everybody can see it. They are daring to hope that I fall, that this upstart will replace me. He will be no better than I am. He reminds me of how I was, before I became what I am. Maybe if things were different…… What’s the point? Its too late for regret. I took this path to be king, and king, I will remain. I will rather die than face the shame of defeat! With all that was left within me, I swung precisely with the aim to behead him. He parried, but underestimated my determination: my blow injured him. I knocked his sword out of his hand, but that was where my luck ended. He caught his sword with his left hand and in a full spin, used the momentum of my own attack to cleave through my breastplate, and lacerate my right arm.


I was on my knees before I could accept that I was just struck. It was just my rotten luck for him to be ambidextrous. He really could be the one to replace me, but I am not ready to die. It was all I could do to stay on my knees as he confidently approached me, assured of his victory. His sword is on my neck, and the crowd is egging him on. My own guards are not even attempting to help me. I really am hated…. “Mercy!!!” I cried, as he raised his sword. “I place my life at your mercy, My Liege” I emphasized. The crowd just erupted in joy. He’s smiling; he will be magnanimous….. Gods, he’s so quick….


He didn’t hesitate for a second. I didn’t even see the swing, or hear the blow, talk more of  feeling the cut, but the silence that enveloped them was death-like. I was drowning in my own blood; he must have severed by carotid artery, as well as my windpipe. Ruthless. I was right about him after all. I could see the confusion and better yet, the fear in their eyes and the laughter gurgled up my throat in bubbles of blood. He knows how to wield fear as surely as he handles his sword. He truly is worthy to replace me.


He removes my helm with a flourish to dislodge the bloodied crown and looks at me with eyes so similar to mine. “Well done” I whisper, in death’s grip. “Thank you, Father.” He says..

In A Connoisseur’s Eyes

Skin’s like a Cappuccino

Eyes a Mocha Latte
Hair’s Coffee black
Lips like Hot Chocolate

Hourglass figure like a Coke bottle
Ample bottom like that of a Hennessey
Lovely legs, shaped like an unopened Nuovo
Soft, satin breasts like Godiva’s Ice Cream

Impressionist like a Donatello
Exact, specific like a Da Vinci
Holy, religious like a Michelangelo
Beautiful, exquisite like a Rafael Santi

It’s fated for one to burn in her fiery passion
But get cooled in her water-still peace
And feel secure in her well-grounded, earthy care
Upon her airy spirit will one be set free

She’s the desirable Queen of Hearts
Right now, you’re just a Club Jester
You need nothing less than the Ace of Spades
If you want to be her Diamond King

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