Sunday, 26 May 2019

Into The World of Ruth Mahogany

Facts:
1. I am from Obudu local government in Cross River state.
2. I studied Accounting and Finance in Landmark University, Kwara State.
3. I am deeply passionate about making art.
4. I began trying stage performances fully in 2017.
5. Currently, I am working towards a career in music.
6. I am a poet and my poetry stems from my attachment to rhythm and music. I want to say a song or sing a poem.
7. In my spare time, I write- poems, short stories and articles.
8. I believe in YHWH.
9. I never like to rush. My name Mahogany is deeply rooted in the concept of growth. Nature adopts little and seemly imperceptible changes to make impact over time.
10. I like to mind my business.

Poem: Dear Friend
Dear friend,
It's a cold cold world,
Do not catch a flu,
Lean on me,
If you fall, I'll be catching you.
We get tired, so rest a while and
Time to wake, I'll be tapping you.
I have your back,
To stab your back is something I would hardly do.

Let's sit and laugh and share a hot dog,
When you're blue, I'll give a warm hug,
Sit with me by the cliff lest I fall off.
You ought not to think that I could cause wrong intentionally.
This is no game; do not keep a score list.
We all err; no one's above it.
And I would love it,
If we keep no frowning faces,
If we give no fawning praises,
No need to impress, no need for studied phrases.
You know what the case is;
That it's a cold cold world,
So we need another.
Go ahead and lean on me,
Here's my shoulder.

Social media handles:
Instagram: @ruthmahogany
Twitter: @ruthmahogany

Link to my work:

https://youtu.be/PLPZvcmBb78

Sunday, 21 April 2019

Meet Tonton, the complete Artprenuer.

10 FACTS ABOUT MYSELF:
1.       I'm a poet, rapper and songwriter.
2.       I was born and spent my formative years in Port Harcourt.
3.       I'm a shoe merchant, I have a start-up brand that manufactures and sells shoes.
4.       I'm quite the talkative.
5.       I'm an orphan — I think I might be too old to fit this profile in its entirety though, after all, I'm not really a child anymore.
6.       I have a bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering.
7.       I'm a bit of an art critic, mostly music, and I believe the critic is not the enemy of the artist.
8.       I'm highly invested in Hip hop, aware that it is more than just a music genre, it is a culture.
9.       I'm an amateur photographer.
10.   My art is an extension of myself and I'm refining my skills, evolving as an artist so I can use it as a tool not just for entertainment, but also one to consciously add good to my environment.

A piece of my poetry:
THREE COURSE MEAL
Lot of these guys talk much about how "shawty look like a snack"
But I think you look like a three course meal.
It doesn't matter if I do, or don't mind
A little belly fat is still fine
God is a tattoo artist and stretch marks are his design
You're not just a barbecue, you came with sides.
Peeking out of your hijab
These things are hard to hide

And as I get ready your order, filled with the green like vegetable soup
I want a partner that will nurture me like a mother
Amala thick girl who will complement me well
We'd be the special of the heavenly cook
Such a match means that I hit the shot, I put the ball through the hoop.

If I'm tea leaves, you're hot water.
You draw out all of my potential
And we form something brand new
Move my kinetic, set the static in motion
If I am the Earth, you are the oceans
That means it is you who keeps the skies blue
Evaporate to condensate and make rain fall,
You water the dry lands of my soul.

Lot of these guys talk much about how "shawty look like a snack"
But I think you look like a three course meal.
It doesn't matter if I do, or don't mind
A little belly fat is still fine
Besides I've always liked plus size
So I think you look good like that
You look take-away, a single serving of you can't just finish like that
You leave enough with me to take back
Enough knowledge from our conversations
A linger of your perfume
An after taste of our kiss
Lipstick on my shirt collar
And a voice in my head when I get home whispering "call her"

They don't know what they are missing
If you're a cake, I'm passed the icing
I know what is in the filling
I've experienced a feeling that is filling

Lot of these guys talk much about how "shawty look like a snack"
But I think you look like a three course meal
It doesn't matter if I do, or don't mind
A little belly fat is still fine
God is a tattoo artist and stretch marks are his design
You're not just a barbecue, you came with sides.
Intelligent ones
Physical ones
Historic ones
And some of which you are shy.
But they'd swell out of a cassock
Peek out of your hijab
All that beauty will leak out your frame
They'd ooze out of your mind.
These things are hard to hide

-Tonton Raymond, 2018

A link to my music:

My Social media: "Tonton_raymond" on Instagram and Twitter

Saturday, 13 April 2019

creative personality of the month

KINKYNAIJAGIRL


10 FUN FACTS ABOUT KINKYNAIJAGIRL
1.       My writings do not arouse me
2.     I always think dirty, I can even turn the holiest convos to something naughty.
3.      I am scared of falling off the bridge in a moving vehicle in Lagos
4.   3   I imagine most of the things I write about before acting them out
5.       I believe every woman deserves not to fake an orgasm
6.       I love to get baked
7.       Other than BDSM/Kinky I love writing about death
8.       Sometimes I feel like a reincarnated soul
9.       I love food, mostly native meals.
1.   I can’t dance to save my life


      She was the river that never drowned
He loved to take his little laps inside of her, twirling, churning and pounding 
She was the undried, the welcoming and the nurturer
She kept him trapped inside of her until he swam to the ends of her world and erupted a mini lake.  


‪How much he loved the flow of her lake and the scent it carried.
And she swallowed always at his command.
Whenever he poured the gift he tapped from her inside her mouth
She looked him in the eyes and drank all that he poured till his eruptions turned still. 
She was his master


‪He loved to watch her dance
especially when he has lost his way inside of her
The way her body writhed on the bed
her bosom rising and falling like the rhythm of the a cappella
her grip strongly on the sheets she firmly rocked 
She moved to the songs of her moan 
‪Her moves; a mix of erotica and seduction
her hands; the sticks of the drum
her ass; the voice of the drum
the sound of lust, raw flesh and spanks
obeying his thrusts to the beat of her crescendo 
And so she moved till she erupted into a bout of orgasm


By - KINKYNAIJA BABE

connect on twitter for more @kinkynaijagirl










Saturday, 16 February 2019

BURIED MY DEMON


I finally had the courage to lay my demon to sleep 
I buried it among ruins, laid it a wreath with my shattered soul to it
I sang it a dirge, long written, without a melody
I gave it a farewell, meant for strangers, because I just never understood this company that came uninvited.

I wrote on its tombstone the only memory it is won’t to have.
“Here lies pains that took without asking, leaving its victims lost in unechoed space”


Today I spread the dust to this demon, sent it back to the abyss where it came from.
This ash, I blow to the winds of history.
I looked the epitaph in the eye, daring it tell a lie if it can.
I exchange its thorns for sunny flowers, a rose to remind it of  taste of its poison

I dance at the sound of wailings, glad that mourners could let my being gyrate again.
I wiggle and jiggle to the reverberate from the grave diggers, as they shovel more sand on the casket.
I watch with excitement, as your remains disappear from sight.
Today, I buried my demon.





Saturday, 19 January 2019

TRUE LIES

Now, I know some of us love our lies,
We embrace it like a priced cloak, 
That covers our filth.
We cherish it like a beautiful wrap cladding our nudity.
 We would rather protect our lies; believe it, till we become it.
We live it and almost forget they are what they are "lies". 
No matter how beautiful we make them look.
No matter how gorgeous we decorate this lies,
They can't erase our truth.

As you know, some of us live our truth,
We display it like clear water.
Streamed through rocks, gushed from pressure,
Watered from fresh dew, cooled at morn.
Though, our flaws may taint our beauty,
Refine our perfection. Yet, it's this un-smoothened patch,
 That tells who we are.
 No matter how hard it is to tell,
 It’s the bravery we live that never would herald a lie.


Thursday, 3 January 2019

MIND WAR


My rage is in my silence
My anger is in my calm
I am so vexed, I've become voiceless,
Numb, calm and unable to spit the fire in me
I'm furious at the many folly foiled to make me feeble

I refuse to war with my mind
Even when you continually pillage my body
Rummage my emotions and toil with my feelings.
I refuse to let you take up space in the very center of me,
 where I lord my spirit and command my soul
For each time you gorge my corpse of its purity, I take back control of my maturity
For every trash spoken to chop my cadaver of its essence, rid my flesh of its esteem, I choose to raise my soul to the untouchable realm


You my darling can't touch me, not with coal words, with the fury of hell burning and spitting pain and shame
Not even with your icy stare like a frozen curse, forgotten without spell
I live in my mind, this body; you try to conquer, was built with love and passion, and consumed when the gods woke gay.
This flesh you detest with disdain, was birthed with the finest of memory, sweetest of care and strongest affection the world will I ever bare.
My body lives in this free mind only love has a compass to


Tuesday, 11 December 2018

BROKEN HEARTS



I know where broken hearts go
I know where the battered live
I know where the forgotten reside
Come see, where shattered spirits live
I know where the living corpse abode.


They live in the memories that once were, and could have been.
They stay in places where happiness hurts and pleasures, pains.
They go to the land of the desolates,
Peering into the past,
Longing to be saved once more,
Hoping that the past could rebirth the present,
Wishing that the future has no claws.

I know where the broken meet.
I know where the fallible rendezvous.
I know where the scorned live.
I know where misery resides.

They meet in the fear of strangers’ dates,
Wanting a hello, not to bid goodbye.
They reside in the doubt of friends turned lovers.
Worried that a line crossed means, strength lost.
It dwells in the laughter of scorned hearts,
In “drink only” buddies, that would never make a move
I see it in the wants, that never  will.
You will find it, in the love, never expressed.
You will read it, in the expressions not told

I know where broken hearts go.
They go to prisons where fears and torture are royal.


Friday, 30 November 2018


NO ONE

No eyes, no dreams, no goals
No me, no us, no them
Sleeping dreamless
Wake up vision-less


Find a quality
Yet no name
The title of the day
Not face of tomorrow

Their say against mine
Your name hostile fame
The scream they hush
For identity not known

What is the title?
Why is he subtle?
Who do me rattle?
When i still grapple

Dog still nameless
Yet not blameless
While still faceless
Rend them speechless 
Only birds fly, not scattered feather


Wednesday, 24 October 2018

“Chaotic blur.
That is the best description i can give.
Detached from myself,
I watched the doctors
As they prodded and swabbed.
The nurses, they lingered and hugged.
The social workers, gave pamphlets and cards.
They said it will get easier.
They said i will get through it.
They said one day, it will be a distant memory.
They said i am strong.
But they didn't tell me,
I will beg in my dreams.
I will cry and plead.
Dreams so vivid you can almost taste the blood.
They didn't tell me i will feel him in me,
Years to come, in unwanted places.
They didn't tell me, i will jump at shadows.
I will see atrocities, everywhere i look.
They forgot to tell me,
The next time i am intimate with a man,
I will kick and scream.
I will panic and hyperventilate.
I will cry with my heart.
I will feel the pain in impossible places.
They forgot to tell me i will want the act,
But i will despise it with everything in me.
I will love with a ball of hate stuck in my gut
They all lied.
It never gets easier.
You never get over it.
It never fades away.
Strength feels like a burden.
Every memory feels like you are being torn in two.
From the outside in,
All over again.
Again and again. “



"There is a place in a place in a place;
Where kids are lucky to go to school.
Where majority just roam the streets.
Where kids are hawkers,
Victims to sexual predators.
There is a place in a place in a place;
Where girls are not as lucky about school.
Where rich old men literally buy them off.
Parents have 12 others depending on them,
One way or the other, they all have to get fed.
There is a place in a place in a place;
Where girls are married by 13,
Pregnant by 14,
Divorced by 15.
Life ruined, urine dribbling, and a child to her breast.
Where these same girls will be blamed for getting divorced.
These same girls will be left to fend for themselves.
These "children" now have children to raise.
Who are the leaders of tomorrow?
Half our population is made up of women,
The other half is raised by them.
The vicious cycle continues.
Can we wake up now?”

Dr. Sabeeha Hussain (SoulUnraveled) 

Saturday, 29 September 2018

THE DARK SHIELDS MY SHAME


don't feel the shame at nights, Since the dark pain, inflicted my damped soul,
Through his fingers trailing my thighs
Poking its way through the murky mess
Not from bleeding, but from heaviness
My heart can't hold, or shake off like the easy loss
of a stained white dress.
I don't recall it at all at day,
Since my voice, seem loss and frail
From the silent cry, screeched from fear,
 ladenned with threat, emboldened by death.

I died daily at his altar, where his cassock condemn my spirit to perpetual penance,
It's not the pulpit that accuses me of consent
The book didn't remember to judge me guilty.
It's his countenance that spurns my flesh to rile
With contempt for self, his sacred lips committed me to damnation
His lifted hands in righteous places, point me to my unholy sepulcher 
So, I live, yet dead to him, who feeds of my unholy temple to pleasure his anointed vessel every night in ungodly ways.

I learn to silent the demons by light, by wearing my solemn devotion,
With my nunnery garment, bidding my preachers will,
Waning my soulful dirge to mourn the memory, I choose to bury,
With each dawn, even as the ritual at dusk calls me early.
 When the sun rises, my shame fades.
When the moon walks, my will, my fear tames.
Again, tonight, shame died.