Painting by Tamra Pfeifle Davisson


Fear of the unknown.
Emphatic utterances.
It’s never been this bad,
this dark.

This night.

Thoughts all over the place.
Places they shouldn’t be,
Doors they shouldn’t open,
They opened them,
All of them,

The voices.

Plug your ears, son.
You don’t need to be reminded of this, tonight.
Not again.
But they do not stop.
Louder, they become.
In his head, they reside.

His solace.
His sacred place.
It’s been defiled.
Pen and Paper, a tale of once upon a time.

‘You are not good, enough.’


Running.. Panting…
Losing breath… Catching breath,
Away.. He must.
Away, from these voices.

Left? or Right?
Stop? or Continue?

The answers to these, he always lacked.
‘I should stop running, what’s the point?’

Paper Planes and Plastic Cars

paper plane
Paper planes and plastic cars

Come, hop into my plastic car, let’s drive downtown.
Take off in my paper plane. Fly to china town.
Be my queen, while I wear my crown.
All smiles baby, no frown.

Paper planes and plastic cars.

I see them, beneath the fine clothes, the scars.
Come, get in my paper plane, let’s fly to mars.
It’s quiet there, just me, you and floating lanterns.
as they take their place beside the stars.

Paper planes and plastic cars

Hearts fragile like a paper plane
high we should fly… low, when we have to
but come, together, let’s fly through it all,
in summer time and through the rain

Paper planes and plastic cars

Lets fly. Let’s ride.
come along with me, side by side,
if you can’t, I’ll understand,
after all, it’s just…

Paper planes and plastic cars

Lost in the Echo

I’ve been sitting here waiting for ‘inspiration’. To be honest, I’m not sure of what I want to write about or how to go on about it, so forgive me if I digress or rather, when I digress.

Where do I begin?

Oh, I should start by, congratulating every one of you, it’s a privilege to see a new day.. You know? And then we get to see a new year! Its been baba God.

A lot has happened recently, it’s just too much of a transition. Things have changed, things are changing, people have changed, people are changing, losing friends, making new ones, getting out of relationships, jumping into others, new places, new faces, being enmeshed in the guise of new-found freedom, trying new things, trying wrong things, trying to be right, making decisions, breaking promises, comprising principles, disappointing many, meeting expectations of a few, father talks, mother hugs, getting lost, trying to get found. Closed chapters, opened new ones.

Oh, I should get on to something that has been on my mind for a while now…

My weaknesses.

They have been a thorn in my flesh thus far. They show up in their numbers, so often these days. I seem to have fed them! Oh God! Look at them!! they have grown all obese on me, I don’t know where their strength lies, they stare at me, grinning! *sigh I thought I had overcome these things… “Well, you can’t get over us“, I hear their accusing lingering echoes.

His excuse has always been “I’m only human, I am not perfect”.

How long shall we hear this, how long shall we continue to listen to this?!” the accuser of the brethren chants. “How long?!”

What do you have to say for yourself? Speak.

My name is Funto AyinOluwa and I make mistakes.

I’ll be honest, I have used the “I’m only human, I am not perfect” excuse, way too much when I give in to my weaknesses.
I thought it’ll help lessen the guilt I feel each time I fall short, alas, my conscience, I steer.
I have vowed times without number, “This wouldn’t happen next time” I will say. That’s become a broken record now. Promises shattered.
I fed them. A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the arms. I let the guards down, my eyes to blame, my ears to blame.

I’ll be honest, I have been unfaithful, yet He has stayed faithful.

But then…

“Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid.” That verse in the bible gets me trembling. He has been faithful, yes. But is that why I tend to take things for granted? Nurturing these weaknesses, expecting grace to abound still?

I wonder why they call them weaknesses, as they seem to have such strength over us. We allow them to at least. We feed them. Then they get all obese and control us. Control me.

Weaknesses, you say?

Still, they toss you around, hold you down, take charge, and take control.

Who’s weak now?

Hello weakness,

We need to talk.

We can’t do this anymore. Yes, I admit, sometimes, it seemed fun while it lasted. It’s not you, it’s me. I need a change. We are just at different points now.

I can’t do this anymore.

You see, I do not know what your own weaknesses are, I know mine. You know yours. I guess everyone has their own sorta baggage. Be it: Doubts, Lust, Envy, Pride, Fornication, being the Chatter box, Chronic attention seeking, Adultery, Covetousness, The blunt, Insecurities, Procrastination, Glory mongering, Busy body, Drugs ati be be lo {and so on and so forth}

Something needs to be done, because with time, with all of these, weighing one down, we get to push people away, begin to lose friends, and eventually lose one’s self to the echo.

We need to let Go(d), it’s time to let Baba God. Because frankly, o ti su mi {I’m tired}

My name is Funto AyinOluwa and I make mistakes.

Far from perfect I may be, to be better I want to be.

I’m done being lost in the echoes of my weaknesses. I’m tired.

It’s time to Let Go(d)

But then, this is what I think, what do I know?

Dear Mr. Physician

Dear Mr. Physician,

I do not mean to take much of your time so, I’ll be concise and precise. I know you are a busy man, I see you looking through your paper work, cracking through your brain to make sure patients get healed, get better and other ways to heal other ailing patients.

I’ve seen you heal all sorts. I see you all the time you scribble prescriptions in that coded look-alike chicken scratch writing. I mean, that has to be some sort of code writing right? ‘Cause it seems like it’s only the woman at the pharmaceutical that decodes what you write.
I see people come to you sad and leave happy. I see them use the medications you prescribe and get healed, feel better about themselves.

But Mr. Physician, now this is really why I am writing you this letter. There are things I also see that I am not comfortable with, things I don’t like. I see you have the same headache a patient from the other day had, you prescribed that he took Metaxalone and he felt better after that. Why Mr. Physician? Why wouldn’t you use these same drugs you prescribe? Why wouldn’t you?

I also notice you find it difficult standing up straight. You still have that back pain? You are a Physician aren’t you? Why haven’t you fixed that? You counsel your patients to report to a physician at the slightest hint of ill-health but you do not the same.

You go about with your stethoscope around your neck, but you are dying slowing, even your heartbeat has become irregular.

Wake up Physician.

It’s time you took that stethoscope and check yourself.

Mr. Physician, heal thyself, I dare you. I dare you. Heal thy self.

Yours sincerely,
A wake up call.

You know, sometimes, I go through a previous post of mine and think to myself, asking,  “I wrote this?”… I read through the comments and how people say they get inspired almost brings me to tears. I mean, I get jealous. I shouldn’t be. I wrote the thing.

Ever realize how easy it is to give advice than take advice?
How easy it is to give blame than take blame?  
It’s so easy to point at the faults of other people. What about ours?

I do not want to be the one that says the things he doesn’t mean.
I do not want to be the preacher that doesn’t do that which he preaches.
I do not want to be the cobbler who always wears the worst shoes.

We are all like the physician in our own ways.

This time, I am putting a stop to this; I am doing the things I know are right, the things I tell others to do.

I am taking my advice.
I am righting those wrongs I wrote.
I am pursuing after perfection.
I am working on me.

This time, I am not just going to be a reader; I am going to be a doer.

I didn’t put this up just to inspire you; I am doing this for me.
Hopefully, one stone can kill two birds.

You reading this, fellow physician in your own respect, heal thyself. I dare you. I dare you.

Yes, You can.

But then, this is what I think, what do I know?

Writing My Wrongs

Source: Google

I woke up this morning, checked my phone, scrolled through my twitter mentions, enlarged some avatars, regretted that I bothered opening others (they can be so deceitful in little sizes), checked my BBM updates, Display pictures, PMs… another day and this one still has yet another person she is wishing Happy Birthday! Ahn ah! 2 weeks straight? Anyway we all have that one contact, don’t we?

Nonetheless, I carried myself to twitter yet again, tweeted *walks in*, replied funny mentions, even got a TT to trend #LivedtheLife … it was just another typical day. I went down the stairs, opened the fridge and just like yesterday, there was nothing I was interested in eating there; I made myself noodles, turned on the  Xbox 360 and started playing Max Payne.

And just like every other day, leaves fell off trees, changed colors, the sun set and it was night again.

Now, it’s late, I’m reminiscing, remembering how my day went,  then it occurs to me how I went about my day without even saying “Good morning” to the one who really did matter. The epiphany of how I have been wrong in so many ways.

So tonight, I have decided to pick up my pen and write my wrongs. I want to right them, but first, I write them and hand them over to Him.

The other day, I did good to someone only because people around me expected me to be good, to do good. Was I just trying to impress them? …
In the dark, when no one is there, how I am ashamed of the things I find myself doing, the things I really don’t want to do.
I judge people without even knowing them, even if I knew them, who am I to judge?
Perceived as a saint, I guess I’m a con artist, you see not the taint.
That one habit I’ve been trying to quit, I’m tired of having it as #1 on my New Year resolution list every year.

I don’t know if you can relate to this, something I read somewhere “I aim to be good but sometimes, I miss the target”
I want to do right, I really want to. But just like Paul, the things I want to do, I do not. The very things I do not want to do, I find myself doing.

But tonight, I am trying something different; I have decided to write my wrongs, taking a step forward to right my wrongs. It may not stop in a day; I will not get everything right over the night, sometimes I’ll fall… You see, it’s okay to fall, what really matters, is if you decide to stay down or get up.

I’m starting from somewhere, realizing where I have been wrong, when I looked away when I ought to be compassionate, when I was quick to say rude and curse words when I should have been thoughtful and respectful, when I saw black, and called it white … I have been wrong in so many ways, tonight I write them down, all of them… down, all I can remember and I hand them over to Him. Let Him be my witness and these wrongs I write, be a reminder of the things I need to make right. I want to wake in the day and to Him I first say Hey.

These are my wrongs.

I don’t know what yours are… are you the drunk on Saturday and monk on Sunday? Or the one, who just like me, who would rather say Good Morning on Social Networks before  saying to God. Or the one who seek approval… wanting to impress and not actually make a difference.

I don’t know what they are… but you do.

I have shared some of my wrongs with you, please make use of the comment box below and write down some of the wrongs, you want to right.
You can write them on sticky notes too and put them in places you can get to see, so they serve as reminders and checks about what you have to make right.

It all begins with a step. Write a wrong. Right a wrong.

But then, this is what I think, what do I know?


Hello everyone, it’s been a while since I put up a post since ‘The List’. for those of you that read, I’m grateful and I hope you were blessed, please keep reading my blog and I hope you keep being blessed.

well today’s post is not by me, it’s written by someone I know, he’s a mentor, one person I very much admire, I haven’t known him too long but he has made an impact on my life, you should read this and let him do the same for you. Read this but you can also view his blog at obafuntay.com


I was reading a book the other day and the way everything about the book encircled around just one character intrigued me, like, he couldn’t hide a thing from me, even his inner thoughts, I could read them, everything, every single thing.

So then, it struck me! Just…

View original post 415 more words

What If?

I honestly did not want to write this before, but not wanting to write about this, were all for the wrong reasons.

Running away from reliving an experience I had days back, Saturday precisely with my group of friends yet again (@SmileCare). This time, we visited LUTH (Lagos University Teaching Hospital) the Paediatric wards.

You see, immediately the Outreach rounded up, I hurriedly went out with friends, laughed and laughed even more at the funny and the not so funny jokes, found any and every way to amuse myself, got my head occupied not thinking about the things I just saw, by any means.

But there’s been this incessant urge to reach out to someone, even if it’s just one reader of this post, anyone out there, to read these pressing words. So I thought I’d share this on my blog, a few of you may have seen me rant about this on twitter.

I remember seeing a pregnant woman crying, shouting and literally losing it at Luth… She had just lost her Husband.
She kept screaming his name, for him to come back… He wasn’t going to come.

He was gone.

Thinking about last Saturday just gets me sober and thoughtful.

I mean, why will a few days old baby’s life depend on the oxygen tube? Something we have so freely, take so lightly. Why?
Or the Boy who has to let urine out through his skin? ‘Cause the hole of his penis was blocked? The smell of urine had become his perfume? Why? There was 2 months old Kemi, who has a Bad spinal cord.

See, these things I don’t get… these things, have me thinking. Why do they have to go through all that? Why?

I think we have to realize that life isn’t just about us, not just about You or Me.
It’s also about the role we have to play in the stories of others.
How we have to act here and there.
How we have to see a problem and try to fix it, not look away.
How when we say and mean those little words of encouragements, go a long way.
“You’ll be fine” “You’ll make it” “You can do this” “You are not alone”

I don’t think I ever want to go for a hospital outreach anymore. But you see, that is what is really out there.
The hurt. The pain. The misery. The agony.

Where is the Hope?
What if that’s your role? To give just that to them. What if?
There was this mother, who hadn’t smiled for ages, even the doctor was complaining. Seeing her son on the sick-bed for long couldn’t have been a pleasurable sight. Could it?
We thank God for Hope, she smiled that day, even laughed.

We made a difference there.

Please get the message clearly, Yes, we have a lot to thank God for, that we are alive, not reading this from a sick bed and many other things. But then, what about the ones going through these things? Are you going to see how you can help and actually help? or just look away? What if, that was you?

I can only hope this isn’t regarded as a trifling rant, I can only hope that someone out there is reading and is inspired to help… To give Hope.

Make a difference. Do something. Act.

I shared this with you, share it with another, use any of the buttons below.

It goes a long way.

But then, this is what I think, what do I know?


You see, this week has been a wobbly one for me. My mind drew up a playlist and I hearkened to its music, moving to its rhythm. My dear mind kept playing all the imperfections here and there, all the things that aren’t seemingly ‘right’ about me, visible and unseen. During the week, a swelling on my right foot couldn’t but make the already rocky boat capsize. Oh, I mustn’t forget the nurse that insisted I got injections for a swollen foot. (Bloody molester! -__- Any opportunity to see a cute butt)

With all these depressing thoughts of how this or that wasn’t perfect, how breathing could be a lot easier if I didn’t have ‘cold’ all the time, how It wouldn’t have been a bad idea if I could take pictures without my vampire features all so revealing, how I could have made a better grade in school (no point crying over spilt milk, right?), why I craved for cake and couldn’t get any, why my leg had to hurt so bad? All of these got me moody and down casted. My saving grace was a thought that struck me amid my pity party.

I remembered the just concluded outreach myself and friends (@SmileCare) went for the previous Saturday at Wesley school for the hearing impaired. I remembered seeing the hand, master the virtuosity of the tongue; I saw music, hands singing with no sound uttered. I saw happy people who couldn’t talk or hear a thing I said, who had apparent disabilities and still chose to be happy. These children, most of them never heard a sound their entire life.

I’m talking way too much, I should let the pictures do the talking… (Pictures by OrionPixel and @Bar_bajide)

Hands being taught the tongues art

In the eyes of the children, we saw Hope. We saw Love.

Drama presentation

MC for the day






Day in, day out, I find myself complaining about one thing or the other, dwelling on the so-called imperfections.

What really defines perfection?

You see, the answer, I do not know.

But these children have taught me one thing. They are grateful they can see, walk and even still, communicate with their hands and ever ready to teach us this art.

Who am I to complain? I talk, I hear… Who are you to complain? You talk, you hear

#Notetoself: Be Thankful

My name is Funto AyinOluwa and I am thankful.

More Pictures:


#Notetoself: Be Grateful

#Notetoself: Put a smile on someone’s face today

#Notetoself: Put a smile on your face, go get cake, red velvet!

#Notetoself: Compliment someone today

#Notetoself: You can do it

#Notetoself: God Loves You


Please use the comment box below.  Quick Question: Are you grateful?

Start your comment with “#Notetoself

This is NO illuminati !

Thank you for reading. It’s one thing to write a #Notetoself, actually doing what it says, is another.

But then, this is what I think, what do I know?