Testing my poetry skills

I miss heartbreak

In it’s severe awkward nature
I miss heartbreak
The feeling that reminds you of love and its existence
With thorn-like stings in your heart
The desperate gasps for air
For sanity…for sanctuary…
The 8th wonder of the world,
That leaves you in a state of awe
How some other than the almighty could have so…
So…much dominion over your soul
And walk into the dark of the night,
Not looking back
Without a blink
Wink or thought
And never reminisce…review or regret
Heartbreak
That rude awakening
That makes young girls eccentric
And drive young women into a state of self-seeking
I miss heartbreak
Because of my insecurity
It eats me
Kills me
I’m in love and it hurts
It hurts because I’ve anticipated heartache
Awaited pain and the agony associated with it
Running out of time
Bag of tricks empty
Nothing left
Noting comprehendible
Your time is up, yet you don’t leave
What do you want? Why are u still here?
Nothing to see
Go away
Seems almost impossible
Why are you so good to me?
What?! Why?!
LEAVE!
You see, people like me are not meant to be loved
People like me live on heartbreak
People like me survive on hurt
Headache, backache, heartache…as long as it aches
Yet you soothe me
I don’t want that! Don’t want to get comfortable
I’m a LIAR...u said it!
So why are you still here?
There’s no future here
No offsprings
No loyalty
No love
But you still persist
You still hold on
I miss my heartache
I miss my heartbreak
I want it back
Just as a rude-awakening
That which I am accustomed and well familiar with…

Broke Feminist

It's funny how life works…the decisions you make as an individual get different receptions from different areas. Funny how strangers and onlookers applaud my choices in life and family members and those whose consent matters the most are appalled by and utterly reject y my choice. I ground my teeth together and shut my eyes as tightly as I could because I anticipated the end of the long silence that seemed to last forever over the phone. My aunt and uncle, the two very important people in my life struggled to shove my just spoken words back into my mouth and deep down my throat where it would be sealed and forever unspoken. I told them that I wanted to get my masters degree in communication studies with an emphasis in feminist theories and their reaction was as if one put a hand full of bitter leaves in their mouth. Like a spoken abomination, they rejected my choice and "commanded" me to go do something that was certain to yield financial benefit in future. WHAT IS WRONG WIT MY CHOICE? Is it the drive behind it? Is it because my choice is passion driven and not driven by the bulk in the bank factor? Yes my family is wealthy…some of its members that is, but what is wrong with choosing not to live a life full of wealth but rather a comfortable one with the content of effecting a change? What is the difference between doing something that affords you the luxury of having anyone and anything at your disposal once you flash that checkbook and having anything you NEED and the luxury of GIVING onto others the confidence to be themselves and see themselves as equals? My aunty for one is the only woman amongst a flock of 11 men, and together, they all run the affairs of Nigeria's biggest and almost only supplier of petroleum…does she not deep down have an ounce or atom of feminism in her? To pose such a powerful position? Why then is it wrong for me to help other women realize their potential to be just like her? Why is it a crime for me to fight for others? Why? Is it because the profit of the righteous or might I say those who aspire equality between sexes and socially constructed gender is not as assuming as those who just lay back and sign papers to gain "financial profit" by any means necessary? Well, maybe im childish for wanting equality, maybe there is something I don't understand; maybe there is an underlying message there somewhere…maybe I just don't get it! Or maybe I do, and everyone is just selfish and self centered! Maybe I just came to this world at a time when the selfish multiplied and the honest and aspiring were underdogs…just maybe! But whatever the answer is, I am sure I have more than two years and well beyond attaining this masters degree to find out!

I am NOT my hair

Getting a haircut was probably one of the most misleading steps of my life. Incase yall don't understand, I was the "rapunzel" of my "days"...until recently, when I took that bold "what was I thinking" step, and cut my hair....all of it!...and honestly it has been a journey henceforth. I say my haircut is mis-leading because for the past month (since I cut it), I seem to have attracted a different crowd and appealed to a different demography. Ok...first of all, I had two old ass, no teeth having, bald-headed men who looked like their life insurances were due for disbursement anytime soon try to "holla at me"...take note guys, I have never had my hair this short. The second group of people, who if I may add, seemed more fascinating to me, was LESBIANS! Yes O! I have been whistled at, hauled at, and almost embarrassingly stared at by a surprisingly large number of lesbians...and it gives me joy...well of course I have a choice between Viagra using men whose risk of having a heart attack might triple if blood flows to the wrong part of their anatomy, & muscular lip-stick- wearing lesbians...with good credit and a large bank account (word on the street is that homosexuality is a free pass to wealth...). I have made quite a few new friends and most importantly, cutting my hair made it seem like a part of me was shed, and I compare it to somewhat letting go of my reticence…I felt stripped as the first lock of hair fell from my head and gradually, I felt naked…it was a great feeling…somewhat of a guilty pleasure. Could this mean that with my new haircut came a new attitude? Or that I would no longer party at a regular night club, but instead join the "gay crowd" in order to hold on to my free drink privileges? Does this mean that I have stripped myself of all superficiality and resurrected the feminist in me? Does this one little step…of getting a haircut mean that I will now be added to the list of women of "substance?"…women who didn't give two flying fucks…women who put a razor in that hair and took it all off just so habitants of this sexist world we live in don't get it twisted. Does this mean that after Mrs. Funmilayo Ransome- Kuti, Afeni Shakur, Maya Angelou and Erykah badu comes Afrikim? India Arie said it…perms, dreadlocks, braids…don't define me, so why this feeling of a new awakening? It's just a haircut! I know that somewhere between getting a haircut and writing this journal, something has died and something has resurrected. I am not my hair…or am I?..

Yanky is Dulling

Yanky is Dulling'

“Life in America is dull” he says, and like a light bulb appearing on the top right corner of my figure head, I wondered why I was unable to express myself using those exact words; simple and straightforward. I see why Americans are the way they are. Hiding behind technology and new gadgets, I finally understand why Mo desperately awaited the arrival of the G1 only months after the sidekick LX was the next best thing to her. Why Meshay felt the urge to put that Chrysler 300 on her bad credit and pay hundreds of dollars a month just to make a statement. Then I remember the priceless joy that filled my heart when uncle Solomon would pick a piece of meat from my clearly “not enough” plate of rice…the joy of sharing, the satisfaction of giving…why were Nigerians rated the third happiest people on earth even with the embarrassingly high rate of corruption and greedy leaders? It’s not us…it’s them. The United States is the most powerful country in the world, they dictate to us what makes us happy, so individualistic in nature that as a people, they stopped enjoying the essence of “being”…turning to machines, gadgets and side attractions as their source of joy, a disease that has eaten up the better part of me. Entrapped in the system, so much that TMZ and Best Week Ever has been my source of livelihood, only because the system has made me so much of a sadist that I look forward to seeing paris Hilton’s underwear or Brittney Spears hitting a paparazzi with her umbrella…so much that Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitts break up made me feel so much better about my people skills. Life in America is dull!!! How many people in Nigeria have TV sets in the comfort of their homes? Playing “ten ten” and rolling the displaced tire wheel down the street is one of Ayobami’s most pleasant childhood memories, ask him today what makes him happy, and his answer will revolve around the ability to pay his credit card bills on time. Essence to being is a terrible thing to waste. Songs like “African Queen” and “Gongo Aso” have helped place us on the map, while I still nod my head and blast “whoop that trick” at 500hertz in my “outdated” car with 8 by 10 speakers. “America is dull” he says. Obesity and depression rules their country, I am not pointing fingers, but we are healthy. This is one country where Yoga seems like the ultimate answer to self enhancement…the end results of Yoga? The same thing you get when you have enough time to look into your mother, father, sister, even neighbor’s eyes and feel the love. Children are thrown into the adoption system because they have been abused, a system that indulges even worse abuse and exposes them to drugs and crime. Like I said, I am not pointing fingers, but if I had to be a number, a statistic, a part of the system and the lowest member of the food chain, I think I can boastfully say…at least I did it for my country…America is dull and oh, I almost forgot, he is on hold.