Kola’ Johnson launches his column, THE TORCH, with a prose-poem shining light on gender-based violence. In his words, the aim of THE TORCH “is to beam light on issues that border on people, behaviour, politics, literature and other issues of societal concern.”

The Torch with Kola Johnson

Here, he presents his readers with a first impression of THE TORCH, titled: Hurts and Damages.



Flirting the street corners

he comes home with eyes full of blood

like a drunk; a drunk devil.


Her resting place is now a palace for the restless

they say that is how to become a bank for punches

His fists have become her feasts

and her memory is now a melody of tears

and she would not let go.


“I recall when he first professed his love for me during an outing. It was not long after we met. Tyson walked into my life like a caterpillar; gently and dreamily, in a way that conceals his soul in his mannish figure. I recall he spoke softly; his tone had a texture that pounces on your history and deletes it. I recall we met at a job interview, and Tyson would not take his eyes off me. Those eyes, I later found out, always sparkle at the scent of every dazzling splendor.”

“Soon, we decided to get married.”


she aches like her body

but like a thief tied to the stake;

her only song is a chorus of pain and memories.

Jane has become the laboratory of a boxer.


“The first three months of our marriage was the definition of bliss. It was before Tyson became the beast that now says: You became my property when I paid your bride price. This is Africa, you know!”


She was once the only book that made up his shelf

The light he once saw in her, is now a cloud of darkness

a cloud of memories; memories of love and loss.


“I am trying to think. I am trying to find myself, trying to renegotiate me into me. But they said they knew my intentions and that patience and longsuffering are the traits that make a wife wifely. But for how long will I be drenched in the cold hands of this brute disguised as a husband?”



I make a case of madness for Tyson

a man in his shoe can only be mad.


Each dinner is a theatre of fists and flesh

of bones against body

that makes a woman dine into fainting.


Jane, why have your sun risen wrongly?

Why are you torn apart from yourself?

You that once was the delight of brains

now settles with a fate of disdain.


Oh man! Become your own wife.

Beat and cut yourself

Impregnate yourself and breastfeed your child.



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KOLA' Johnson

KOLA' Johnson

A dynamic writer, wide reader, creative thinker, public speaker, brilliant singer, and a movie-lover with passion for nation building and personal development. Being an outstanding essayist, poet and playwright, Kola’s interestingly friendly attitude cannot but be noticed – even at first sight.
KOLA' Johnson

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3 Responses to “HURTS AND DAMAGES

  • Murphy Simon

    Beautiful work of art.
    Clear and concise.
    The language of love and betrayal to man is almost the same… how funny!
    The same tongue of praise and admiration dulcets, becomes so comfortable of stinging satire .
    The hands that were of cuddles and pampering indulged suddenly develop superman strength for some heavyweight exercise.
    #shame. But we will be fine.

    • Kola

      Yes indeed Murphy, the heart has become a place where two contrasts unite. The heart of love and bliss suddenly veers to the estate of wickedness and Ill thoughts. The tongue that sings love songs suddenly coordinates an orchestra of wicked words.

      Domestic violence is a cause worthy of public discuss at whatever platform. Women are abused, children are abused, no wonder the economic estate of the nation is abused. But, we will be fine.

  • I wondered why Tyler Perry will direct a movie For Colored Girls, and have only black ladies and men act it. No single White. And the story is all on domestic violence: hurt, shame, betrayal, brutality, rape, etc. and the man doesn’t mind.

    She is a voice without a say
    Victim of His decision
    Led to the stake to face her fate
    “This is Africa”, he says.
    Her song is indeed an irony of Ecstasy.

    She must not be without hope
    Of what tomorrow holds.
    Her plight will someday be known
    Even as her voice pierces thru the heart of the world
    And the message written with tears is told.

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