Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.

Archive for December 2017

Krystalpen spoken word poetry contest

Krystalpen’s first spoken word poetry contest is here! Spoken word is poetry’s maiden form. Poetry was first spoken, vocalized, before it was written. The art form illuminates the beauty in poetry, tell apart intonations and voice inflections- this is what we first call poetry; when it is mouthed and when it is heard. This beautiful art form should not be lost. The interest after it need not wane. It should […]

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Ghosts on the loose/ series/ chapter 5

The sun rays flicked slowly, bringing in a feel of safety. Toma laid on the bed, eyes folded, hands clenched and lips tightened and drawn-out. It was how he folded in Maa’s arms in the night, to be hard, hard enough to repel the fear. I smiled and touched his lips, pushing them back gently. They melted, relaxing into a tender plane. Then he wiped his lips with his tongue […]

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Ghosts on the loose/ series/ chapter 4

Kolokuma sat on the white plastic chair and felt a blistering liberty; a looseness amidst the heat within him, like feathers flaunting in the wind. He rolled the sweats away from his pale hand with his thumb and thought of the next morning; covering a few more kilometers and sacking more calories. The morning was frosty. It kept his sportswear moist a little longer. He hummed larghetto melodies and watched […]

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The Night Masquerade: Here is an opportunity to read chapter one before its release date

The concluding volume of Nnedi Okorafor’s Binti trilogy: Binti: The Night Masquerade, is almost here. The book will be available, starting from the 16th of January.However, we now have the opportunity to have a taste of the much anticipated novel. Chapter one, which is subtitled Alien was published on Read it below. Chapter 1 Aliens It started with a nightmare . . . “We still cannot get out,” my […]

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Black migrants: fleeing from death to death/ An essay

“You may choose to look the other way but you can never say again that you did not know.” William Wilberforce A head now appears worthless somewhere around Tripoli or Benghazi, almost. The texture sketched over a man’s covering is again becoming a yardstick for survival. Migration is now a crime, a fatal one at that. A slave, as it where, commanded a kind of dignity. To be identified and […]

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