out of this world

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Power Of Speech: On Pause.

Miniscule Diary

If words just ran together

Leaving punctuation behind

With no commas or periods

Each page would stay undefined

And imagine your favourite song

Denied any intervals of rest

Every note would lose its power

It would be a cacophony at best

Life becomes more breath-taking

When you remember to take

A breath inside each moment

You give yourself a break

And in this serene space

You reconnect to your core

Recovering deeper meaning

You find yourself once more

Oh, how sacred it is to pause

In all the chaos you embrace

To rest your flow of thoughts

Feel the peace within your pace.

-Author: G
Instagram ID: @powerofspeech


This is a heartfelt piece, which I got off IG, just for you. Dear Loves, pause. Rent a bathroom, or carve a corner. Take one deep breath, and maybe another one, then another one; stop and stare, just stare deeply– look…

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Beautiful read—->


I didn’t know the true power of words until I read his, I mean yours
It’s like each word formed a new era of thought
Your words came to me as sunny days
When there was none
You words made me feel hot and cold at the same damn time
I ran temperature and Had goosebumps
If you don’t mind
I want my words and yours to meet somewhere locked
I want them to become friends
Mix and match and maybe fall in love
May be they’ll lend
A heart to someone in need of one
Maybe they’ll make people fall apart
How dangerous it’ll be, love
The true impact of words brought to life
By pen and paper or
Finger and keypad
Or just the instrument of speech it doesn’t matter
With our thoughts carefully placed in the glass encasing hands of our words I believe we

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Bàtá Drumbeats…

…So he did it 👌. Do check it out😉


At the turn of the year, a friend of mine suggested that I do a chapbook. At the time, I had no idea what a chapbook was, and even when I found out, I wondered if I really was qualified enough to do anything that daring.

Read the work of quite a number of poets, and immediately, my major challenge was that I felt my work wasn’t quite there yet as far as ‘standard‘ poetry is concerned, but then I made a commitment to go for it and “announce a release” on the 27th day of this month. I regretted that decision almost immediately because I thought of all the things producing a book however small entails.

But you see… At some point, I had to tell myself to just go with it, and do what I could, and so I decided I’d self publish and…

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The Type by Sarah Kay

Rukia's Blog


In 2015 I opened myself to Art; Fiction, Music, and Poetry mostly. It has been a wonderful experience; I read books, listened to poetry, heck, I even attended a Book Festival, and interacted with brilliant writers from across the continent. For reasons I am not sure of, the Type by Sarah Kay stuck with me in 2015. I have listened to it at least 50 times, watched on YouTube at least 20 times, and I still cannot get enough of it.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
You can let them look at you.
But do not mistake eyes for hands or windows or mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may have not ever seen one before.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
You can let them touch you.
Sometimes, it is not…

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Earth’s Seed

The Z Channel

Yesternight, I felt the earth move.
I  felt her rotate round her axis.
Am I the only one who felt her move?
They say I am the earth’s seed. Aren’t we all her seed?
They say my veins and arteries  are locked within the her heart, like the oak tree’s roots embraces the soil.

Yesternight my ears heard her melodious voice calling out of the sonorous  emptiness of her kingdom.
I felt the Pain in her gentle call
My heart responded with a tremor
as the echo of her ‘hello’
Vibrated  through my being.
They say she is me in flesh
I say we need to care for her as she devotes herself to our existence

Written by Amity.

She blogs at

Many thanks to Amity for being a constant presence on The Z Channel all through 2015, for being a friend, an inspiration and for agreeing to be featured…

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While you’re out there.

Friday thought from oreoluwade. Enjoy…


When you share your thoughts,
Or you ship your art,
Not once, not twice,
But consistently,
There’s every chance
A shaming party will be set up.
One that propagates an idea
That all you do
Is to be seen, again and again.


Here’s the fact:
Putting yourself out there,
Of course is for recognition.
You alone can tell however,
If the recognition you seek
Is genuine relevance and meaning
Or the malaise of approval addiction.

Being accepted, and appreciated, and acclaimed is a kind of oil that drives the wheel of normal human functioning. That’s what I think.

While you’re out there, it’s left to you to tone down superfluous misguided intentions you might have for sharing or shipping.

Maybe then you can sleep better, blocking out voices that daily threaten to silence your shine.

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Proudly Fallen


With every pace of display,

The Lizard allures itself with pride.

Carried away in a selfish vigour,

It sliped and fell into a deep well.

A suicide well executed.

It shook its head not for failure, but the pain.

Lingering pain with no gain.

Sheepishly, it crawled to a comfy corner.

A chunk of pride hard to swallow.

The weight of pride, a heavy price.

  • Drastevo

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It’s the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen.

– John Wooden


I once heard the story of a couple that got divorced. The final termination of their marriage found its root in the fact that both of them had different ideas on where the toothpaste tube should be pressed; top or bottom. This set into motion a series of other events that culminated in the breakup. Maybe it’s a fictitious story!


In my workplace, my immediate boss – though normally irritable – took the time to tell some of us under him a story of how his fraternizing with existing workers (when he just got employed) and staying behind a little after closing hours resulted in him being handed a powerful machine (computer). And I mean powerful. His fellow new intakes didn’t get a thing by the way. Maybe he juiced his story…

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I’m a servant

True words…



Servants live for an audience of one

Not to be seen by everyone

But in quietness to work,

Break grounds, one step at time.

But the world places a premium on leadership.

So we drift along,

A horde directed by popular opinion,

That domination is relevance,

Moreso that leadership is domination.

This is the point where we miss it,

When we forget the essence of power;

To influence and serve.

You see, the power we lust for

Lies even in the hands of the basest of servants

For in the end whether you be a cleaner or a god,

Your power is meaningless unless you’ve provided some service.

In respect to an audience of one

Maybe you need to ship out your art or idea(s) today.

You need not wait to be king before adding value of any worth.

And let’s face it, some of us will never end up…

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Concluding part the famous inglorious sneakers. Enjoy…


An uneasy calm finally visited the raging storm. They nearly pegged their eyelids in place in a bid to defy sleep. Earlier, Papa stood there perplexed, if only stares could kill. He did not utter any word but, just shook his head as if trying to jerk up a part of his stiff body that is asleep when he left the room.

When the boys finally slept, they clustered like a pile of peeled bananas each one carrying the guilt of how whichever punishment would be meted out to whom.

It was breakfast time, but the table was graced by a lonely soul; Papa. Mum went to the boys’ room to knock on their door.

“Won’t you guys eat before you take off?”

She asked while scanning the room but gloom was the bold sign written all over the boys’ faces. She frowned her brows; a smirky expression on her…

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