Midnight motivation and musings

Midnight Motivations and Musings 100


Life is full of crooked paths that we don’t envisage, no matter how much we plan.

Of course, there are certain things that we can take charge of and brace ourselves for incidentals, but there’s really so much that one can do.

However, when we keep our minds on a positive track, we’ll find a way through that tight and crooked path onto a more suitable highway.

Writing is not an easy path at all. It’s not a journey to instant wealth, but when we look at the fulfilment derived and also know that our works will hopefully ingrain themselves on the sands of time, that is gratification that keeps you going through this windy and tedious path.

**today I realised that this is the 100th-midnight musings post and it amazes me that I’ve been able to keep up with it** 

Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

She is amazing at describing love and life in her poems. She creates such beautiful images with her words. Truly, she is a talented writer and I’m so excited to have her poetry book and to continue reading through it.

Out of the silent breath

Finance · Guest Posts · money

My Breakup Letter To Debt.. First Guest Post.

Yay! My very first guest post is from Pamela of ‘My money counts – money, modest living and enjoying life.’

I met Pamela in the blogosphere several months ago and I have totally enjoyed our interactions. Her posts are insightful, fact-filled and very hands on approach.

Her witty letter to Debt  is a personal relationship with being indebted and how she got out of it. I enjoyed reading it and I am sure that you will 🙂

Dear Debt,

It’s been a roller coaster ride with you, but it’s time we part ways. I don’t know how much more uncertainty I can take from you. You said you would always be there for me. I thought you had my back, but you lied to me.

There were so many secrets and lies you kept from me. How can a relationship grow that is built on lies? Like the time you said you had my back and convinced me to buy my living room furniture on credit. You told me we could afford it. You said we would be ok, so I listened. Or when you told me that you would take care of me once I was done school and encouraged me to spend the little I had and more without giving a second thought. But I am done school now and your words were just empty promises. Where is the help? Where were you when I needed you, debt?

Why am I even surprised? You were never satisfied with what I could give you. You always wanted more and more from me. The more I got for you the more you wanted. I felt like I could never do enough for you. Like the time I got us the big screen T.V and game system, but that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted the new laptop and cell phone too.

Was it ever enough for you? Did I ever make you happy? You used to make me happy. I used to get so excited to see you. We had some of the greatest times together you and I. Like the time we went on the road trip together or bought all those cool things together. You used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. You had me wrapped around your finger. Then the trips, gifts and promises stopped coming. Then you stopped coming around. Now when I look at you, I can’t trust you anymore. You deceived me…so I am moving on.

I will just come right out and say it, I met someone else. His name is cash and he is so good to me. He never lies to me or deceives me. He always has my back and is satisfied with what I can give him. We are building new memories and going on our own adventures together cash and I.

I want to say, thank you, though because if it wasn’t for you, I would never know how great a healthy relationship could be. Cash is the love of my life and I have you to thank for it.

So long and have a good life. Please change your ways so you don’t mess up the next girl’s life. Oh and don’t forget to lose my number.

Your Ex,


Image credit: Pixabay.com

An excerpt about Pamela in her words. She can be contacted through this link: MY MONEY COUNTS.

Hi I’m Pamela. I am 30 years old African Canadian personal finance blogger that likes to help other millennials eliminate their debts. My professional and educational background is in accounting / finance, but I was not always good with my own money. After some life lessons learned, my husband and I embarked in a journey to pay off $120k of debt in 2.5 years. We now live debt free and our building our wealth. This letter is a comical relief on my experience with debt.

If you are interested in guest posts, you can contact me through my contact page on my blog or through this email address: JacquelineObyIkocha@gmail.com

Poetry/Poems · The Daily Post

Lend Me Your Ears…

Lend me your listening ears O’ people of mine,

That I may whisper the ancient words,

That I fed your forefathers,

So that you may be a Voice.

You are the land of a great people,

The land of the rising and the setting sun.

A land that overflows,

With the goodness that I have given.

Do not dance naked to the beat of a drum,

That goes thrumming in the dark of the night;

Lest you dance the dance of the dead.

Do not chase the fly senselessly,

Lest you enter the grave with it.

Do not join the madman in the market,

To nod at his music,

Hence, you know not who beats his drum for him.

Do not listen to the ramblings of depraved men,

When you cannot decipher their wisdom or mental health.

Shall you forget the directions your forebears gave you;

In pursuance of the Golden Fleece that only misleads?

Your truths and values, you’ve thrown to the winds.

Scattered like a flock of birds, 

Pursued by the booming sound of wealth.

Caution, I implore, lest you cut the cord;

Thus, you shall reap only seeds of discord.

You grasp with greed, You grapple with misdeeds,

Robbing yourselves blind of all that is right.

Lend me your ears O’ people  of mine.

That you may hear my Voice,

As I whisper to you in the blowing wind. 

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Voice, The Daily Post

Image credit: Pixabay

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories

Rolls of Dice…

Mike held his breath and closed his eyes. Anxiety curled in his stomach like viper.

He knew that the roll of the dice determined his doom.

For minutes, he reviled himself for the gambling, which overtook his senses.

Going to town with the lads had turned out not to be a very good idea.

A mug of beer became several and a roll of dice turned into several rolls too many.

‘I should have stuck with the coin machines.’ He thought.

‘What will I tell Bernadette?

‘How do I explain that I have lost the inheritance.’ ‘That we are heading for the poor house?

Like a man waiting for the knell of the tomb bell, the jingle of dices sounded ominous and then it stopped.

Gasps, shifting of bar stools and music in the background sounded louder.

Bracing himself he opened his eyes.

Incredible! By some lucky God of Roulette he won.

‘You lucky son of a gun,’ Todd pounded his back.

‘Well, drinks are on you.’

He collected his winnings, left several dollar bills for drinks and decided to go home.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Etol for the photo and Priceless Joy for your enabling platform.


Blogging · Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Love · Weave that Dream

How Complete Do You Feel?…

1447768353272[1]As the days go by, I have truly realized that contentment and peace are not items that can be borrowed, purchased or stolen.

No amount of prosperity or material gains can put something in a soul that is derelict or lacking and no other human is responsible for my happiness but myself.

One can aim to attain the satisfaction of living a complete life from within themselves and not from without.

Personally, I don’t tie the state of my well-being to anything that lacks intrinsic value outside myself and God.

It is a continuous pursuit for me and I strive to achieve this state of being by:

  • Trying to understand myself and what truly makes me happy.
  • Staying in tune with my responsibility.
  • Seeking enabling ways to free my mind and de-stress.
  • Finding positive things to do.
  • Strengthening my health and finances.
  • Extending kindness to others.
  • Pursuing my passion and interests.
  • Maintaining good relationships.

Keeping my life simple and trying not to worry as much about things that are not within my power to change but doing my absolute best to change those that are within my line of sight and control.

With all these things on a balanced scale, I feel excited and alive, knowing that each day, I give life my best shot because tomorrow is not guaranteed anyone.

I cannot afford to extend the promise of living and feeling as complete as I can in expectation of  events which are merely temporal and may never arise.

Traveling to see new places, buying the little niceties that I can afford to buy are just toppings on a life to be savoured.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to NaBloPoMo prompt Tuesday, November 17

What is one place you need to see to feel like your life is complete?

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short story

Derailed…. A Short Story For You..

female spy

It was just the perfect opportunity. Disaster had struck unexpectedly in his favor and he intended to grab it immediately. The past few months had become very harrowing as the noose around his neck got tighter that at times he felt out-rightly choked.

To sleep was proving more difficult for Eric and as each day passed, he spent insomniac nights chewing Pepto Bismol to calm his nervous stomach. The unexpected wave of staff lay-offs at the firm was getting a bit too sporadic and uncomfortable and the forthcoming audit would surely give rise to a whole lot of eyebrows and dust trail.

It had been cool running’s over the past years but disappearing without trace was no longer as easy as before. Now it seemed luck was smiling at him with the massive train wreck that had just occurred. The ensuing inferno and mangled wreck had left so many dead and burnt beyond description.

It was simply luck that his appointment in the neighboring city; San Francisco which was a three hours train ride away from home had been delayed and he had missed catching the train by mere minutes. He had tussled with the idea of changing his ticket for a later train or hanging out in  town and scratching some itch, when the news of the accident broke.

Eric felt it was providence; even though he really didn’t believe in God. It was time to move on and to cover his tracks as usual. His steps grew lighter as he turned back and caught a cab back into town, his thoughts firing on as he quickly made his plans.

He pondered briefly on which color of contact lens he should use this time around. Should he grow his hair a few inches with a nicely trimmed goatee moustache or a full beard? He had fancied the scruffy yet debonair look of George Clooney a couple of months ago. Paired with scholarly glasses, he could definitely cut the image of a confident man who had it all figured out.

Having to keep up appearances over the past few years and maintaining Emily and his two little girls in style meant dipping his fingers deeply into the company till. A closer scrutiny of the accounts will definitely nail his coffin and he could not afford the beam of light which would shine on him; it could open a whole can of worms which were better left firmly closed.

He was also almost a hundred per cent sure that someone had been watching him very closely of recent. Anonymous little notes had started appearing in odd places with names and words supposedly known only by him. It really was time to skip town.

A little part of him would miss his daughters, he thought. “No matter, they will have to get by without me”, he quickly reassured himself. They were the reason he had tarried a bit longer than usual. Emily was not known for her brightness and she would never think beyond the fact that he died in the train wreck. She would mourn him appropriately.

It was still a sore point for him when he thought of how he had been had. He hated to think of the time he wasted courting Emily and how quickly she had succeeded in hustling him down the aisle, only for it to turn out that his father in law was actually not as wealthy or as generous as he had anticipated.

With only Emily as her fathers sole heir, he had been sure a life in the lap of luxury was guaranteed, and it was a rude shock to help the old man kick the bucket only to find most of his wealth tied up in useless stocks and paying gambling debts. Settling down to a job was novelty and in no time, he was back to his old tricks.

He was feeling very upbeat as he first went to the town’s library to research the deaths and births records. He settled on the name Karl Sutton. It had a nice ring to it. His next stop was at the bank where he withdrew some of his booty and then to his rented storage space where he pulled out another stash of cash he had been tucking away.

Checking into a nice motel, he decided to freshen up and enjoy a bit of the town before buying a ticket to check out to Boston. His mind had settled on Boston; it was far enough.

That was the beauty of it all. Good old United States of America was big enough that a man could choose to get lost if he so wished. From San Francisco/California to Boston was a clear cross country journey of four days by train and a five to six hours non stop flight.

He needed to worm his way quickly into the heart of a young impressionable Boston heiress and the way to go about that would be to gain admission into the exclusive country clubs and to attend the prestigious churches within that location.

His stolen booty would be useful in buying a lee way into these staunch epitomes of success. These days, money could buy you a whole lot, even a complete change of sex and identity if and when necessary.

Nobody cared to question the source anymore, except when you choose to run for a political office. That was not in Eric/Karl’s immediate ambitions. He would like to support those in power from the peripheries and with time such meatier ambitions could be achieved.

He made his way to The Dungeon and Skulls; the towns reputed pub with exceptional nocturnal services. In no time at all, he had two delectable ladies keeping him company at the bar. The red head looked very interesting with her charcoal black sultry eyes, the engaging mole on her upper lip and the very tight pussy-cat jump suit that she wore.

She kept leaning into his sides with her generous unbound bosom which he thought would burst out of the deep cleavage of her suit if care was not taken.

Karl was excited! The night was proving fruitful as he made his way back to his motel room with his lady of the night: Miss Red. Pouring a generous glass of brandy for both of them, he went to the washroom to retrieve his pack of emergency condoms and joined Miss Red, who was sipping and swaying gently to the croon of the music from the radio. She treated him to a nice peek-a-boo strip tease, as his light headed and excited body reclined deeper into the mattress. He felt very languid and did not offer much protest when she used silk scarves that she had extracted from her purse to tie his hands firmly above his head.

She crouched lower and he waited with bated breath for the anticipated titillation. She had him in the position that she wanted him. Pulling off her leather gloves which exposed fingers that had been twisted and mangled by fire burns, she removed her red wig, her fake upper lip mole, her eyelashes and contacts, whilst he watched in amazement.

She wiped her face clean of the heavy disguising make up that she had painstakingly perfected how to apply, leaving no illusions of her identity in his mind. She was his former accomplice and second wife in his line of bigamous marriages.

He struggled feebly as flashes of the burning house he had orchestrated came to his mind, his body felt heavy and his head was getting lighter by the minute. He was sure she had been taken care of in that fire; but that was apparently an erroneous assumption.

Opening her purse, she pulled out a .22 Magnum mini revolver— a tiny little five shot revolver, that packed a good punch. His eyes flashed in desperation as he pleaded and tried to negotiate with her.

Laughing scornfully, she told him that she had been waiting for a day such as this for a long time.

“Shh! Just keep quiet and die like a man.” Blowing him a mocking kiss she bid him good night.

Enunciating each of his aliases for each silent bullet that were carefully aimed: two for his groin – Karl Sutton and Eric Godson, one for his temple – Jesse Everness, one for his chest – Kurt McKnight and one in his stomach – Chase Reeves.

She wiped down every possible tell-tale sign of her presence, finished up her glass of brandy and tossed the snifter into her bag. She left a clear finger print free parcel propped by the noisy radio in the room, it was crammed full of incriminating pictures of his escapades.

Grabbing the duffel bag filled with money, she walked into the enveloping darkness of the night.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Photo credit: Vector & Illustrations