SonOfMoses

Delighted to share that my short fiction “pigeons on my windowsill” is now published in @afreada, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Big thanks to Nancy and Chideraa for the amazing collaboration towards this publication. 🐦‍⬛🖤🪴 afreada.com/short-stories/…

We're looking for work that comes out of "song." A particular song. A group of songs. An era. "Song" should be the launching point. We're looking for pieces that treat song not only as "music," but as a gateway to memory, confession, protest, or revelation.

Substack and X just got to be my faves. One hardly beat the labour of love on these platforms.

We are open for submissions for our 5th anniversary issue. No theme. Just send your stuff: poetry, CNF, art. Hey, short fiction? Maybe we'll try something new.

One thing is certain in Nigeria, whether within or without, whether in politics or in the literary space, the oppressed will someday turn the oppressor. Just give it time. Just give it time.

Take Ernest out of the picture. Respond to the subject matter of the essay. That's the only way you can be objectively logical in your argument. It's censorship no matter how harder we try to blind the equation. A voice was silent; and you think it's because he's a bigot?

you people don't hate bigotry and homophobia as much as you say you do walai. see "allies" o. because of "well-constructed essay," homophobia don turn "difference of opinion." suddenly, it's like williams fubara, hillary, et al. never existed. make una clap for unaself.

I think literary spaces would benefit from representation across all spectrum of the human experience. That way, art would truly be reflective of everything that we are, in—as much as is possible—the right portions. To decide what demography gets what presence, or resources, is the prerogative of politicians and not writers. Ours, I think, is to make sure that our art, our spaces, are as truthfully as possible, reflections of any society we attempt to mirror. I have to stop here because I am already thinking: what if we are being mirrored in this moment, but refuse to accept it?

The problem is not that writers dislike Ernest due to how controversial he appears on most of his essays. But, it is that writers take him as their core enemy; it takes a lot of hatred to make him your enemy. The recent takes is opening us to something and we'll get there soon.

brittlepaper.com/2026/05/one-ti… Thank you @brittlepaper

Thank you for this.

No, Abasimaenyinn, eyeneka. I disagree with you on this level. Ernest perspectives, or claims might be controversial sometimes. Even with that, he is entitled to believe what he wants, and propagate same.

Don't forget to register for our upcoming free poetry workshop! Happening May 21st! variantlit.com/free-poetry-wo…

Apart from the very few writers who are lending the right voice to the matter. Others are dragging Ernest because they see him as their enemy. Ernest is entitled to hold his views—propagate same if he wants. We all know Ernest is one of the few good critic in Nigeria.

Everyday you come on X to see writer with delusional and sordid perspectives about a matter that should be declared as "particular concern".

it shocks me, the lack of humility or maybe it’s an abundance of arrogance i see from some writers when it comes to their sense of their work in the history/future of literature. do you really think it will last? do you not constantly despair that you are but a mediocrity?

Getting rejections is still better than leaving your manuscript to mold in a desk drawer, or worse, never even writing it in the first place.

@eniola_abdulroq One of the best confessional poet

J.k Anowe, wherever you are, publish a new poem soon. I'm starving!

Wallace Stevens was baptized as he was dying from cancer and I find it interesting ( I just found the quote) that earlier, this was his spiritual vision: “After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption" What a shift.

we consume so much, now, that perhaps we don't know what it means to exist as something unsellable. i had to give up journalling because i couldn't stop writing for the people who would read it after i was dead.