chioma

one paper wrapped prawn short of a dumpling.



Chioma finds talking about herself in the third person amusing, but not as amusing as when an old man dropped his umbrella one day and took so long trying to pick it up that a bus ran over it. Then she felt guilty. that she'd been watching the scene unfold instead of helping him - and like all those old wives tales warned in her childhood - she froze that way: guilt ridden for the rest of her days.



Poetry is the way in which she exorcises this guilt from time to time - until someone convinced her she could sing and suggested she try putting some poetry down to music. So she did, and this is some of what manifested. (The rest are songs she's still too unconvinced about to upload, novels that won't let her go, and a whole heap of vitriol-fuelled wit to split both your sides and tear you a new one.)    My Comment Box Leave me a comment:Instead of clicking on "Add Comment" link on the bottom, just use the box below to write me a comment. View/Edit All All of My Comments



I created my profile with Myspace Layouts+