30/30 is a collection of short stories covering a range of issues around the self, culture, society, sex, love and relationships. It is available for FREE download on Smashwords, Okadabooks, Lulu, iBooks and other ebook retailers.
Lonely Roads is available in major bookstores including The Hub (Shoprite Lekki), Glendora (Ikeja City Mall), Terrakulture Bookshop (Victoria Island), The Jazz Hole (Ikoyi) and Patabah Bookshop (Surulere) and Lanterna Books (Victoria Island). It is also available on www.ikasuwa.com to be ordered and for download on Amazon and Okada Books.
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Who am I?
My name is William Ifeanyi Moore, and I am a thing that writes. I guess that makes me a writer. I am a lover of learning; science, art, philosophy, history, literature…food for the soul. If I had one wish, it would be to contribute towards making the world a better place with the ink of my pen (perhaps strokes of my keys is more relevant in this century). I generally see life as one long fleeting moment gone too soon, and hence my philosophy of the musing wanderer. I hope my letters find you well.
What do I do?
I am a freelance writer, novelist, poet, spoken word artist, public speaker…you get the picture. I have been featured on BellaNaija, TheNakedConvos, Venture Africa, OmenkaOnline, Pulse.ng, NBCC, Elsieisy and other platforms. If you are in need of content, William can help. See HERE for details of services I provide.
Afroplation is a collection of essays based on my observations and reflections on Nigerian culture and attitudes. I believe by rethinking some of these concepts and ideas we may well be on the road to both development and social cohesion. Enjoy…
The ceiling leaked with the sound of mismanagement, in her opinion, a staple in all things Nigerian. It was evident in escalators that stood without motion, air conditioning units that hummed only to exhale warm air, patches of concrete on the carpeted floor, and the worst, the humans that fiend politeness in search of tips. The humid air left her brows heavy with sweat, but she didn’t wipe it or complain. This is why she was here, this was what she wanted. It was one thing to be something — it was another thing to live it. Cloaked in the comfort of New York living where she hopped around intellectual circles with the fear of coming off pretentious the height of her worry, she had grown detached from her home without even knowing it. Sure, she checked up on the country over her morning coffee in Starbucks, browsing her favourite sites which included Linda Ikeji’s blog even if she would never admit it in public. On many occasions she would read an article and in a fit of rage attack the keyboard, spewing her opinions on the comment section. It was either that or spilling her latte if she wanted to break something. The latter wasn’t an option. Continue reading “Back Home”
If you haven’t been lost under a rock with no internet, chances are you have heard of the male ego. That little voice in the mind of the average man that tells him he is the best thing since sliced bread and all creatures of the earth must agree to this and worship at his feet. After all, he was crafted in God’s own image and everything else is just art for art sake or company for his comfort. The man wants to hear that he is the most brilliant being on the planet, he expects his word to be law and any act of challenge is impunity with a semblance to treason. You get the picture. Continue reading “Hego, Shego and Paradoxes”
With a name like William Moore to accompany my light skin in a society where identity is based on paternal ancestral roots, the role of colour and language in identity has always been a part of my life — even if I couldn’t always understand it. For me, the notion of identity went from being something I had never even thought about to becoming a mini life crisis as I grew into adulthood. Born in East Nigeria to a mixed-race father and a black mother, my skin colour had always marked me out as early as I could remember. Even as my age races for thirty, memories of my childhood being dragged along Onitsha Main-market to the sound of traders calling out from their stalls never fade. Continue reading “Home: Colour, Language and Identity”
She wanted to see my dick
So I sent it to her
No, I didn’t sever it with a meat cleaver
That would have been painful
And gruesome too
I sent it to her in a photo
No, not like the kids do with their smartphones Continue reading “Shame”
I am tired of being in a box
I want to be set free from this place
I want to be kissed softly on her lips
Till she loses breath
I want her to inhale my essence with passion
This is more than just a flame Continue reading “Untitled”
They will come
They will come for you
For all of us
They always come
It is what They do
One by one or all at once
With smiles to bury seething fangs
Paws hiding sharpened claws Continue reading “They…”
THE CIRCUMSTANCE SURROUNDING the birth of Afam Udemba was the kind that made you question the existence and fairness of God. From the very moment he was conceived, his life was marked to be one full of loneliness and all the suffering that came with it. He came out kicking and screaming, but perhaps if he knew what the world held in store for him, he might have reconsidered those first painful breaths. Afam was born an osu – an outcast. In Aboh, that made him a walking plague. Continue reading “Lonely Roads Teaser”