Tag Archives: emotions

WALKING ABOUT NAKED

cover pix of book 2

If someone had told me two years ago that I would be writing a book, well.

I wish to clearly state, not in the manner of a disclaimer, but as a matter of fact that this should not be seen as exactly a book. I honestly can barely find remote similarities to one. This means that this is to be approached with very low expectations. Thank you.

It is actually more like a journal of my musings on issues relating to the science-religion discourse. More than that, it shows some actual conflicts I may have gone through as I tried to navigate this curious issue.

I hope you enjoy seeing me walk naked.

 

The link to the pdf file, hosted on google drive is

https://drive.google.com/file/d/11TvLfGVkrD5_o8ybeAVhj8t79ecLkJDT/view?usp=sharing

Download and enjoy freely.

I should post the link to my first collection later. Apparently, I have two collections to my name now. *sighs

 

Yours shamelessly,

Advertisements

On growing up -feelings.

Ah! The guileless smile I once had and may never have. Now, all facial expressions have hidden meanings. (Source: funmag.org)

If I smiled only when feeling happy,

How did I make my husband think all was well between us

When he forgot my birthday whilst at work yesterday

How do I make my harsh bosses think I like them

When I’m passively considering killing one of them as a lesson

How would I make the world believe my life a bed of roses

When asked about the exams I actually failed

How would I make pastor keep believing God only gives riches

When I haven’t eaten today as at this night of writing this

 

If I cried only when sad,

How do I make my lover know how hurtful his deceptions are

Hoping he won’t think I cry because I’m moved by his sugary words

How did I let my roommate know the scorpion sting hurt

Hoping he didn’t think it was because of my heartbreak

How would I let her know how much I missed her

Hoping she wouldn’t think I hurt from kneeling for too long

How would I make them know how funny and ridiculous they were

Hoping they wouldn’t think I was hot with jealousy

 

I have learnt what you wanted me to

You told me I needed to be smart and savvy

That I had to stop being naïve and grow up

And realise things aren’t always so simple

Well, I hope you can tell I have followed you obediently

And this is not just an act to get you off my neck

I hope you can tell I appreciate your seeing this

And I am not somewhat indifferent to what you really think

 

If only writers and writings were always sincere…

Of music and dance and torture

They are there again, just like they were yesterday.

photo-of-break-dancing-san-francisco

As if that was all that mattered. Wonder when that’d be me! *sigh* (Oh, please just don’t die from your fall to the ground.) (Source: online, unknown)

 

See, my day has been just good

I manage to make a living and don’t complain

But these guys just want to make me cry

I have never done anything to hurt them

I patiently wait for a snake-child to cross

If ever our paths crossed

And I definitely never hurt fleas

But they do not let me be

They know what time I pass by every evening

On my way back from work

They see me lost in thought in some part of my mind

And with the other part looking all around me critically appraising my environment

Looking for new stimulation and absorbing the world around me

They see me all the while nodding my headphone-padded head to some beat

So they settle at that same spot, right on scene

Working up the steam on their acts and arts

Up to that moment when I walk by

They start with regular beats and moves

They know I never miss the wicked musical gears and sound system

They know I notice their eternally killing matching sleek black outfits

They know I am not be able to stop them

They then work their ways up

Throwing in increasingly complicated moves

With recklessness, as if he did not care about living till the next day..

With recklessness, as if he did not care about living till the next day..

Moves they don’t care that it will take aeons for me to learn

The choreographer stands near the mouth of the formation

Not part of the dance because he apparently has a higher purpose

Watching out closely for my every micro-expression

At how maddeningly his well-planned moves are being executed by the dancers

The rappers take the centre of the platform

With lines that could make a gentleman go bonkers

Reeling out rhymes that could make a poet dream

Of the age when poetry must have been born from rap

An age that he was not aware of

They build up steam steadily

And when they know I draw closer they increase the volume of the mixer

Or how else would it sound louder in my ears

They know it’s evening and the breeze will serve them well

Then they show moves that make them seem to be flying

They sway and slither and bounce and lock and pop and stomp

All with every movement of the easy breeze

They make me read meaning into every breath and hiss of the air

They obey the wind

The rappers’ lines carrying on the wind in a way that defied physics

I got distinction in physics

But for the beauty I saw all those years in school,

They seem like dirt compared to what these guys do with the wind

Moments I wish I were deaf

So I’d not hear the steady booms against my ear drums

Making me head shake subconsciously like one having a focal seizure

Never mind, the bass would still make my heart and viscera resonate

Or better still, I be blind

Then I would not see these wicked wizards and shape-shifters

Floating in the wind at times and other times sharply moving like electricity

Never mind, the thuds of their feet as they stomp would get to me somehow

Lecrae-Concert-3-use

See, there! That moment when he (in this case, Lecrae Moore) goes insane, as if possessed by something inhumanly. And the crowd goes lunatic…. (source: online, unknown

 

tumblr_mg8gbxbhjZ1r9g2tqo1_500

That moment of mad paralyzing ecstasy… an experience to kill, or die, or live for…. (Source: online, unknown)

Then they watch for the climax

That moment

When a straight-faced calculating and sober-minded adult doctor suddenly bursts into tears

Because he cannot understand why they would taunt him

With such displays of artistic perfection

Don’t tease and call me “only human after all”

What am I to do

If you cut me I bleed

I am human

If you rap and move like that

I cry with longing and envy

Wishing I could be you,

Right there

In that moment

Wielding the greatest weapon you have over me now

Your mad love for the lines and moves

With that confidence and ease accompanying your ability to do them

That you know I can read very clearly all over you

In that moment

Right there

When a scientist who lives on and deals with facts and Pure and Undefiled Science

Is brought figuratively to his knees

Before a phenomenon he has no control over

As he literally quickens his heels

His eyes already leaking tears

 

It just is unfair!

Where my senile memories go

NOTE: I apologize for this popup-post since I am not due for another post until another week, after my post on mirrors yesterday. Now, knowing I have a couple of smart-headed followers, I will not say more than that it’s fictional. Yes. But if you claim it has splashes of reality, figures! As at now, I am not sure if it’s gonna be in traditional poetry form or just plain prose because a couple of us are on a campaign to ban poor works of modern writing shamefully mimicking wonderful traditional poetry; and even though I am regarded as primarily poetic, I still have to tread cautiously lest I be sent to the gallows also for crime-of-art.

image

(wise_old_man_by_poeheej-d2ynanw.jpg)

____________________
I have seen it all…

Nothing surprises me again
Born a twin to this madman, we experienced a lot of life together. I am more level-headed though. Years ago, I took up job at a new place as a sales representative. I have always been in this business of human contact and take particular pleasure in reading the human mind, besides manipulating it for the purpose of money when marketing. Sorry for calling things the way they are, but many of us manipulate others for various purposes. And sometimes we think these purposes are selfless. As if it matters! I AM NOT TRYING TO EXCUSE MYSELF. And please feel free to judge me. (Yes, I tire of this don’t-judge-me philosophy that’s on the rave.) In another life, I might have been a psychologist or a forensic expert.

Enter the new girl.

If you, Reader, are into fairy-tale mushy-musheries then you might describe her as the quiet sun minding its business, yet the radiance it gives at day or night cannot be denied, though it never blows its trumpet. (Sunstroke is more a case of one-man’s-meat-being-another’s-poison.) Or you might describe the experience of seeing her as a philosopher who tastes ecstasy that leaves him wanting more. (Wonder why I use the word ecstasy a lot these days. Note please: I discourage doping on ecstasy!) Or you might describe your feeling as a confusion/disorganisation that makes perfect sense to you.

Without any dilly-dally on shilly-shallies, we would meet at work and go about the day’s business with perfectly courteous professionalism. We would part at evening, after a long day’s work and would never even speak of catching a drink. No, not a date. Not anything fancy. Just a drink at a non-remarkable place.

The first year, I handled the feelings well. I had no desire to wanna know her beyond the immediate business at hand.

The second year was slightly more overwhelming. The little attention to HER that I deliberately denied her during the first year came back with a little interest. It was easy for me to notice some of those little things beyond her body itself. I know it’s a bit unfair on other men, but my involvement with humans have meant I had to train my peripheral vision. So I could see my environment more easily just like ladies can (since it’s been noted ladies have better peripheral vision than guys. This means they can spot the guys shamelessly eyeing them out of the corners of their eyes.)

The third year I became concerned –about my welfare –enough to wanna know more about her. Questions I would like to ask her –like “How are you?” at the start of each day, or “How are you finding the work demands on YOU? since it was her first working experience. I had absolutely no problem with walking up to her and asking despite the feelings I had. But I knew this all along, since the first year when the feelings visited me, that nothing could probably come out of it.

It is life, isn’t it!

The fourth year and the feelings have persisted like a tough climate over the Sahara. Definite. Undeniable. Unstopping. Demanding attention. Yet untouchable.
I would not even seek closure. What does that word even mean?

The feelings were heavy in my eyes
For any who cared to look
But I busied their lazy bottoms
With reading her body gestures
The feelings were lodged in my throat
I could eat and swallow hard
The feelings would make my heart skip
But trained in relaxation techniques
I’d sooner regulate my heart rate
The feelings were tied to my dreams and skull
But I gave no indulgence to daydreams

Days turned to years and my five-year contract was soon over there.
I never asked if her heart was sold out to another
If she would wish to see me another day
I never knew even her second name!

It was just another passing phase of life. It is just another thing that happens in life. Nothing surprises me.

Times in my life come and go. I remain unchanging right at my core.
Well, except when I mope about how those four years went without even a monument erected in their memories.

Well, here’s one. Till the day wordpress.com crashes.