LIVIA'S BOOKLET

Guest Writer's Profile Name: Wahab Olamilekan PenName: Stonez Genre: Poetry  Profession: Social Educator Location: Nigeria 7. HOW DO YOU THINK YOU'LL WIN? If you are still drinking from the old pot of wine that got your fathers stimulated in chains.  That had their minds corrupted with prayers that were left to rot in some forgotten jails. How do you think you'll win? If you are still a puppet of the so-called saviors.  If you are still hypnotized by their mere words of dream.  How do you think you'll win?  With your mind somewhere deep beneath your deepest fear; death,  faraway from light.  How do you think you'll win?  With your head on the ground  watering your master's land; faith, screaming for more.  How do you think you'll win?  With your hope for a new home; heaven,  wondering, maybe someday would come  that you'll refuse to be preyed upon.  Perhaps there's a winning for you.  Rebel Stonez 🎶 8. MOTHER'S ...

Guest Writer's Profile Name: Wahab Olamilekan PenName: Stonez Genre: Poetry  Profession: Social Educator Location: Nigeria 5. POINT OF GRIEF In a place like this, where  sadness is a thunderstorm of solitude, and happiness being butterflies that fade with the wind.  In a place like this, where  shame is the gown that keeps me warm,  and pride  being the lonely path that I walk.  In a place like this, where  I would like to get lost in books and poems  written from the point of grief.  Rebel Stonez 🎶 6. DANCING TO THE SONG OF GRIEF the grief of yesterday ticking off the one of today ticktock ticktock  my self esteem burns into depression- my depression burns into  grief yet i dance. i dance  to the blacken of my  essence i dance  to the flaming of my sadness- carefully observing  as it burns into achy lullabies- there should be purpose somewhere for those who's capable to love but this grief  keeps tick...

Guest Writer's Profile Name: Wahab Olamilekan PenName: Stonez Genre: Poetry  Profession: Social Educator Location: Nigeria 3. YELLOW BLUES XV It's hard to understand why everywhere  is full of dead people who are carrying within themselves,  a ray of dark nights molten essence. It's hard to understand why everywhere  is full of dead people  who are hiding within themselves,  a yoke of dark nights hellish pretence. It's hard to understand why everywhere  is full of dead people  who are pulling within themselves, a strong knot of sad nights solo struggles. Stonez 🎶 4. BLACK DREAMS If I can sleep in peace and have some black dreams on a finely carved wooden pillow,  I would need not to worry about any round cloth bag that is filled with too much hope and expectations. I would only lay my head on reality pain and revolt. The world must be aware  of the thick skin  which I possessed, the African skin of the resiliency. I would be laid n...

Guest Writer's Profile : Name: Wahab Olamilekan PenName: Stonez Genre: Poetry  Profession: Social Educator Location: Nigeria 1. PESSIMIST SIPS I'm heavily patched skin  of polythenes and tapes,  and the ceiling is my limit.  When the earth is quiet the sound I make is the sweetest when it is to be sang alone.              I sing it alone  I sing it alone  with nobody listening.  I'm used to the thin voices  of sad toads,  and some other souls that only shout at nights, but my colleague says  that I'm heavily broken and tired and all I know is Kiwanuka  and sad songs.  Perhaps, she's right  for I seldom think twice   on many things that wear  pessimism before me.  The dieties in me are Schopenhauers and Sissyphuses But whenever I say I'm not a fan of hope,  It actually means  that I don't want to be afraid of NEPA anymore,  the light takers and dark build...

Guest Writer's Profile: Name: Luke Destiny Manja  PenName: Luke Destiny Manja Genre: ShortStory/SBCC drama/Articles/Poems/Proses Profession: Social and Behaviour Change Communication Worker Location: Lilongwe, Malawi Period of writing: 9 Years IT’S ALRIGHT TO CRY It's alright to cry, to be sad, to be broken and lose it all. It's all fine and believe me we need those so called negatives and lows in our lives.  As humans obviously we want to live a life of bliss, full of happiness, a life void of negative emotions like sadness, loss and pain, but how is that possible in this imperfect world full of imperfect people and imperfections? It is a common agreement that nobody is perfect and no one ever will be so why do we put ourselves under so much pressure and effort to live a blissful life? I know we do that because we are humans and it is in our nature to expect the best for ourselves. But even in such scenarios I say, it's alright to cry or experience the negatives in lif...

G uest Writer's Profile: Name: Clara Honester Chikuni Genre: Short stories  Profession: Nurse/ Midwife  Location: Lilongwe, Malawi Period of writing: 14 years THE VOW “Please Paul stop it you are hurting me, I beg you in the name of God please stop” I pleaded with my husband to stop beating me but Paul turned a deaf ear to my pleadings, he kicked me hard in the stomach with his foot then started punching me with his fists all over my head and face then he grabbed me by my hair, dragged me from the bedroom to the lounge room, dropped me on the floor then he sat on my belly and continued punching my face, I covered my face with my arms to protect my eyes, I screamed on top of my voice apologizing for something I did not do but to no avail, then everything went dark. I met Paul seven years ago at Natural Resources College, we were both pursuing diploma course in Food science and Nutrition, he was in the final semester when I was in the first, I knew him because of my room-mate Ch...

Guest Writer's Profile Name: Clara Honester Chikuni Genre: Short stories  Profession: Nurse/ Midwife  Location: Lilongwe, Malawi Period of writing: 14 years THE BANK TELLER’S FATE Raymond arrived home before dusk after a hectic day at work, he found his wife Lucia bathing their two year old son in the bathtub. She turned her head to stare at her husband with a contempt look. Raymond knew that he was in some sort of trouble with the look that he received from his wife. He could feel his heart pounding fast like had just finishing a marathon run. “Good evening my wife.” Raymond began a conversation. “How was your day?” He forced a smile on his lips. “Don’t bother greeting me, go and prepare supper I am hungry.” Lucia replied without turning her head to face her husband. “You will prepare the chicken which is in the fridge, the vegetables and tomatoes are on the sink, you should cook rice which is in the storage container in the store room, it should be dry and don’t cook like po...

Guest Writer's Profile Name: Garnet Howse PenName: Garnet Howse Genre: Poems/ Shortstory Profession: Accountant/ Auditor Location: Blantyre, Malawi Period of writing : 10years BEFORE WE PART WAYS “Please don’t go...” Maggie said in a pleading voice while kneeling down in front of Richard. Her eyes beaming red because she had been crying before Richard got to her house. She knew this was her last resort to convince Richard. She had been pleading for hours but Richard could not have it. Richard’s face was still fuming throughout as he looked down at her, he was absolutely angry with her. He wanted to slap her so hard and make her forget where she came from, but he kept his calm as he continued to explore his thoughts. “You went too far Maggie, there’s no way I can forgive you, you have crossed the line!” Richard strongly exclaimed with his deep voice. His blue shirt wet from the sweat dripping from his armpits. The sweat was from earlier when he drove from the work to Maggie’s house ...

  Guest Writer's Profile Name: Garnet Howse PenName: Garnet Howse Genre: Poems/ Shortstory Profession: Accountant/ Auditor Location: Blantyre, Malawi Period of writing : 10years LET ME Let me love you, the way I know to Let me be the only one to hold you Let me be the first one to call you every morning Not to be solitary or longing Let me lie down on this soft bed with you Gum our skins fret in the ambience too Let me taste the lips that have slept the hale night Let me share the breath, so sweet, warm and tight Let me carry you to the river streams Where showers will drop and cleanse us from our sins Until black turns to white Let me smile then, and  I gestate words that can help me contrive your body Contrive your love And then contrive your soul Let me quiver in this racket pot Do not compare me with men of that sought Who burn with lust, whose love is molt Let me listen to the sounds of your tears Come closer to my chest and hear music Playing in my heart, erasing all you...

  Guest Writer's Profile Name: Garnet Howse PenName: Garnet Howse Genre: Poems/ Shortstory Profession: Accountant/ Auditor Location: Blantyre, Malawi Period of writing : 10years 1st LETTER Dear Esther, When I first laid eyes on you I thought to thyself… Who is this little charming girl Dressed in a dark blue jean And a white linen woolen thin? I just knew then, I must talk to you… So sudden, you let me see you You let me kiss you You let me feel your warmth Then you led me at your door step Into your house Into your room Onto your bed Everything went presto, I couldn’t conceive it My desire grew so strong like the shield of Ananias But astonishingly I stopped talking And you never bothered to ask why Our Magic halted, we both left… Now, what remains Is this birthday card in my hand written by you Sweet words that end in ‘I love you’ What remains are these blue socks That warm my feet… And nothing more Nothing more. @Garnet Howse

  Guest Writer's Profile Name: Garnet Howse PenName: Garnet Howse Genre: Poems/ Shortstory Profession: Accountant/ Auditor Location: Blantyre, Malawi Period of writing : 10years A MAN LIKE ME In the pavements I would lay my back against the white walls and waited for the pretty girls to pass by And I would see it all Long blueprinted sainted dresses Short dissected skirts Plasma asses Onion buttocks Fair aroma skins Cracked scarred skins Huge balmy heels small preyed feet Ugly faced baboons And some pretty faced angels I would see it all Then I would see a man like me Following from behind. @Garnet Howse

Guest Writer's Profile Name: Natasha Lwesya PenName: Heartscript Genre: Proses Profession: Medical Doctor Location: Lilongwe, Malawi Period of writing: 7 Years * SITTING NEXT TO HOPE * But God, I thought you said you would never leave? How come I have no sign of the prints of your feet along side mine? Perhaps it's these tears in my eyes, blurring my view as I sit next to hope. I can barely keep my head up or my shoulders high for the sorrow in my soul won't let me look alive. You said you would be my peace, Why then do I feel anger and sadness all day long? I have asked for it, prayed for it, cried and moaned for it but still, No rest comes near my home. I didn't ask but you said it. I had no expectations, but you birthed them in me. I had no foresight of what could be, you showed me it's possibilities. Why do I feel like a child you told you were coming to get but forgot? I was asked if any of it could be, In my defense, I said I don'...