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The ‘Coconut’ Debate Rages On

“I am not oppressed,” words rarely spoken by people of color (POC) but slowly gaining traction in the 21st century.

I came across a Tiktok video that stopped me dead in my scrolling tracks. I thought it was a timely and intelligent conversation to have. You can check out the video HERE.

I have no idea who this lady is and I made absolutely no attempts to find out, for a reason. However, I can safely say that she sounds intelligent, well-spoken, and according to her, very ‘privileged’! She immediately reminded me of the vile creature Candace Owens – an intelligent woman living in a soft bubble. I’m sure you can tell I’m not a fan of Candace, but I’m a bit on the fence with this particular lady in question because, unlike Candace, she recognizes the ‘oppression’ that POC face across the globe…and I just love how she qualified her assertions, verbatim;

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In Rogue’s Shadow – Part Two

Annabel grabbed at her skirts, walked out of the room and onto the terrace overlooking the grounds where party revelers were gathered. She rested both hands over the rail and directed her gaze towards the oval-shaped balloon decorated entrance where a young man she knew to be thirty-one years old was standing.

He had managed to command for himself the attention of everyone present, including the two white fluffy dogs whose breed she could not tell because of the ghastly fusha-coloured garments they had been to wear, obviously against their will.

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In Rogue’s Shadow – Part One


They called him Dexter. Just that. What else do you call a man known for his perfect splendor and insurmountable ambitious accolades except his given name? Dexter.

He never spoke of his father, and those who could did so in whispers. And for that they forgave him for having no last name. In fact, it was a gift born of the cruel circumstances surrounding his birth. Society owed it to him to expect no other name than the one he chose for himself. Dexter.

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When the Candle Burns Out

Theme Song: I’m Never Getting Over You – Gone West

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“I’m sorry, I don’t love you.”

Six words that come to my mind everytime am looking at her. She’s smiling at me right now, a double-dimpled smile that would melt the heart of the coldest of men. In her arms she soothes our new born to the sound of Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud.

It’s a breathtaking scene meant for fairies and saints in a world where villains like me do not exist.

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Seven and Nine

When I was a child, all I ever wanted to be was an adult. Then I woke up one day and wishes had turned to horses except the unicorn had neither wings nor horn. I asked the wise man Mr C why and he said that for me to see them, I had to use my mind’s eyes.  Was he asking me to think like a child or like an adult?  I suspected it was the former but I had bad news for him.

I had no more innocence left in me. In fairytales a kiss awakens a prince but in this life mere words turn to poison the moment they touch the lips. I once lost a portion of my innocence to the tick tock of the clock and later lost the whole lot in deep brown eyes that danced excitedly whenever the host’s tongue spewed venom. The unicorn finally got its wings and in the place of the mind grew its horn.

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