Tag Archives: musings

LOOKING FOR YOU

Source: online, unknown

Dearest,

Some would fight for love. I don’t have that as-noble-as-is-shameful aspiration. I am writing to find you. When I used to watch you write, I never quite understood it when you told me it calmed you. Well, maybe because I could not imagine you ruffled in the first instance. You said writing helped you collect your thoughts.

I don’t collect, neither am I quite collected.

I am writing to find you.

Where are you since you have been gone? Where do people like you go? Into the arms of someone else? Who can satisfy the appetites of people like you? Can even someone like you do that? I know I pushed you away. And I know the hurt in itself could drive you into the arms of another in a fit of rebound, yes? Or, are you beyond frailties? I like to think what we shared could mean so much to you to have affected you that way. Apparently, I am not beyond selfishness. Or, maybe that is the way the experience some call love ought to be. That what partly made it special was knowing that I was responsible for you and you vulnerable to me. How sick is that?

Is there any point to this? Why should I want you back? What is to stop this cycle from repeating itself again? People argue breakup-makeup cycles are bad. Others say one could learn from past mistakes and redo things better. What if the explanation is simpler than that? That we are meant to be, and part of what happens is we grow from knowing that we are bound to end up with each other again –the sense of the inevitability. That generally should make sense to you. It should comfort you that: the fact we keep ending up back together should mean that we are meant to be –the sense of predestination, certainty and rightness of decision. The proof that a force beyond natural must want us to be together.

Or, have we become an old love? The kind that just gives off smokes like a locomotive, which can never aspire to be a spaceship giving off fire. You know such crafts are not practicable on this earth’s ground where we live, right? Why not enjoy the familiarity that we have. Why not gain from growing into each other. Or, does that make us like poles which repel?

People argue a little drama now and then is good. Does breaking up sound little to you? Should one deliberately start a drama not knowing if it had the capacity to escalate into a break? How does one perfectly control the situation? Would someone in love be so calculating and manipulative of love itself no less?

I know we are generally a complicated lot as humans. We criticise some for making issues complicated. Yet we somehow deep inside enjoy complications in life. We say it makes us feel alive.

But, please, believe me when I say I want to find you. It’s not about finding love as an experience. I want you. And this desire is without complication or another shade of meaning. It is as plain as my thoughts, as my words.

It is as wonderfully calm as I feel when writing. When writing this.

Don’t make me wait forever. The waiting game does not necessarily breed passion. It can finally kill whatever spark is left.

Please…

I wait to hear from you.

 

Yours,

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BREATHE

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Introspective

It’s nice to sing that new beat
Not just when drunk on milk and beef
Or high on smoke from that roasting rabbit
Meat so deliciously lean and stiff
As we gather round the heat
All of us dancing on the cliff
Thankful that tonight life is neat
And we are spared the gliff
Spared the terror and hit
That make us tremble like a leaf
Tearing us bit by bit
Ain’t this life’s spiff
Biting us in the butt even on retreat
Never leaving like our very own reef
Driving nails into the sores of our feet
Darkening the core of all our belief
Setting up pins for us on our seat
So nauseating is this life’s whiff
Monsters parade this life’s gloomy street
Even when silent we hear them sniff
Causing terrors that make our hearts grit
These life’s fairy-demons meet us with a biff
They greet our joys with a slit
And spare us no tiff
Leaving us a ghastly bloody treat
So when we get some relief
We are thankful for the feast
Giving the Creator glory without miff
And smiling as we lie tonight each on his bedsheet

Resting In Peace!

INTROSPECTION (songs for plath)

Someone I know presented this at a book club, and something about the content made me decide to share, as I told him.

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I

My heart is a tomb where hope comes to live,

I go to parties of happiness to breathe,

I inhale all the light around me

and leave the parties when it gets dark,

too dark for men to see

without stumbling into the sadness.

Too dark to feel for lighters that lift the souls of men high.

 

I watch their fears colliding from a distance,

I giggle.

 

II

On quiet days

when there are no songs left in my lungs,

I write.

 

I like to write stories of women that died

while embracing life-

firmly

women we thought had too much of her in them

but we never cared to look beneath their skins.

 

On autopsy,

the pathologist said he found castles living inside them,

Castles that echoed whispers.

 

III

There are nights when I dream;

 

I am a bird, carrying happiness within my beak

Flying towards a nest I do not know.

 

I never get home.

An angry storm breaks my beak into two,

happiness dissolves into a stream of darkness.

 

I wake up screaming.

Sweating.

 

-OLUAFOLABI

PRONE TO WANDER

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Some say rain settles the scattering heart
Some argue it enrages the wandering

The rains have started and things are as they should be
The floods have come for my roof which was built to last
After which they reach for my soul which was meant to stay
I thought I was lost in a sweet dream
Not knowing the showers are from an actual leaking roof
In the midnight I wake
Lightning lights my flooded room

Oh darn!

I don’t try to light the candle with my wet matches
I don’t reach for my rechargeable lamp
Which of course is dead
Thankful electricity is long gone
And I don’t have to step into a flood of shocks

They say rain enrages the wandering heart.

(Intermission…)

I have never built a home to last
I know I am always set to move with the next turn of the season
I don’t spend two seasons in one place
I don’t settle down and take roots
In friends and jobs and titles and neighbourhoods
I don’t plan for that future
I don’t carry a rope with me to tie myself down to anyone with
I don’t even carry a printer to print certificates and garner awards

The heart is not wild or rebellious
It is just prone to wander

It finds discomfort in calmness and weakness in stability
So I take a sweet flower with me wherever I go
To give those around who would be close to me
And whilst they see it as a pleasant gesture
I am watching for when the flower-fade begins
As a timer for my departure

People kid themselves
Don’t human physiology and psychology teach one thing
All are in constant state of activity
Even in the depth of that most restful sleep
The body is still active
Only dead things settle down

It is not deliberate
Things have just come to be the way they are
Hairs are always on end
Sleeping with eyes wide open
Hands always reached out
Feet always itching to move

Till the day I grew tired of it
And finally decided to make a home

Well now, here’s back to the start and end of the story

Settled finally in my home
At the start of the rainy season
Which is always a reminder to count
The many showers of blessings in my short life
The rain tears through my roof
In the middle of this night
I wake up in the middle of my house
The room dark and flooded
Full of possessions and loved ones
Grab that bag I kept in the corner of the wardrobe
And in 5 seconds I’m out the house
Only my boxers on
Not even stopping to check
If everyone else is alive in the flooded space
Sling my bag over my broad thickened shoulders
And leap through the window of the upper bedroom
My bare feet making no sound on the floor below
In the middle of the stormy rain
In the middle of the night

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My bag containing the two ONLY possessions
My wandering heart
And a beautiful rose
__________________________________________

BACKGROUND: “Quiet times” by Dido Armstrong playing in the background; and I echo “It’s hard enough to see the world as it is, and hold on anything”.

“Caution: what cynicism you may accuse me of is what you humanity has shown me. I am just a mirror; and my writings are not my own.” -JANISH

Mankind has done it again. The heart is by far more unpredictable than the weather. I am amazed afresh at how we behave. No, I have not seen it all! I have seen a lot, and I should be used to how our minds dance; but it amazes me afresh with some sparks of ingenuity. And I am left asking, fallen on the dancefloor, “how did you do that?” It does not follow any rule of love or reason. It does not even follow itself. It just wanders… drifts… fluctuates… dissociates….

ANOTHER SEASON OF LIFE

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All that happens is change
That’s what defines a life form
Times came and went
But I remained unchanged
Was it that I did not even learn anything
Shouldn’t I at least grow in wisdom
Well, I added the knowledge that my life’s seasons change
But I already knew life’s seasons change

I’ll miss the old times and whom I used to be
And I will always gaze at that painting of the old me
That painting set in grey muddy colours
These thoughts run through my mind
As I consider the new season of my life
Coming with showers and brightness

The days of the dark clouds are crawling out
They are waving at me from a distance
Don’t worry fellas
I’ll miss you
I think these things within me
I wave back
I smile
I blink
I hold back a tear
I sniff lightly
I do not let them see it

What to do
When life is as it should be
What to do
When I cannot find my inspiration
When I have nothing to say to those facing sorrowful times
When all I can write about are the almost meaningless things
When getting a promotion at work is just ordinary
When boasting of new inventions is the norm
When buying my third car is just another hobby

When someone frowning at me ruins my day
When someone crying beside me soils my mood
When someone ruffling my dress gets me angry
Yes, those are the kinds of things that disturb me now

What to do
When I can’t keep a poker face
Because now all my bosses are so nice to me
And I have no reason to be guarded around them
And my emotions bleed shamelessly on my sleeve
For all to see and read my thoughts clearly

What to do
When I can’t empathize with my patients
Because I have so quickly forgotten
What it means to live in psychic chaos
Lying in peace on the bed of conflicts
Because my senses have grown accustomed to darkness
That even the light would hurt
And make my eyes bleed
Like a traveller in a canoe in the middle of a sea
Where the most peaceful moments
Are the dark nights he can’t read the sky to navigate
And he would just sit still
With the barest of ease nature affords him
Because the monsters of the great sea of life
Are busy tonight
Mating
To produce lovelier babies
Newer sorrows this life has not seen before
Maybe tomorrow they will think fondly of him
And the whole family will pay him a visit

No, life won’t cut him a break

Life doesn’t cut these patients of mine a break
And some of them may soon be back after discharge
Suffering from relapses
Whilst their kind doctor can only manage sympathy
Because he cannot empathize
He has forgotten what chaos smells like
Has life cut him his own break

Life doesn’t cut one a break

So strongly do I believe this
That it doesn’t make sense to me
That these dark clouds over my estate are leaving
Not only is it abnormal
It is somewhat sad
These dark clouds over my life
Have been a source of beauty
Colouring my days with different shades of grey
Muddy grey colours

What will I do now
With my melancholic-creative self

These thoughts run through my mind
As I wave at these dark clouds
Half-hoping they will change their minds and turn back
I say no word to them
Just a sniff I suppress
Just a tear I hold back
As these lovely clouds creep over the horizon
And happy blue skies stroll through
I wave them in
I give no smile
I give no blink
I let out a sniff
The tear I had held back trekked through

The happy days ask me why
I tell them they are tears of joy
As I look sideways fondly at the old painting of me
Set in grey sorrowful colours
And wonder within me what is to become of my life
In this new season I am in
The happy days of happy thoughts!