ONE

Existence of jaded dreams, highlights of what could have been- provide information of what it was like. That vision so many shared on behalf of nonchalance, results, a collage of fascination, awe and disappointment. Investigating what went wrong, can you retrace?

 Let's go back a decade plus, when the star shined brighter than the tiny little soul beneath. Blame misdirection, somewhere along this path, priorities diverted, looped over and over, pretzel shit!

Back to the starting point time and time again. Carousels of dreams, failed attempts to accomplishment, time disregarding the effort. The story book writes itself, fuck the authors scribbles.

Confusion, contempt and content coupled her embodiment. Trying shit, trying shit...won't work, yes, that comedian did say it and we laughed. *changes playlist* ...walls concrete like past knowledge of destiny, distort and delusion! they never materialized, negligence precedes reality in some's reality...dreams! Anticipating drums activates the minds faucet, loose in frenzy, succumbing restlessly, pressure parades nonchalantly.

 When I grow up was once upon a time I misplaced in bottles of rum and pages of research illuminated by cigarette butts I carelessly left burning on my study. Please your passion, embrace your ruins, whatever makes this time pass, all you need is one string, one atom of insanity, one mind voyage, one valid memory, one room, one path, one reason, one empty street...one last breath...lights out.

NOTHING

Occupied in a realm of nothingness, with occasional flash backs, montages of most recent past synchronize in the minds eye. Water tastes like liquid married to salt. Wandering the earth in search of sense, man seeks out his own truth; whatever it is that makes breathing seem worthy.

Time is never introduced as a friend.. Clueless as to where the ticks are tucked in. How to handle emotions that time forbids? A tune up will not mask the maturity it lacks. A child still craves for its mothers love spread far and wide the oceans and seas; the river of tears have now merged with unquenchable thirst for an embrace.
 
Dusty winds and dry roads crack the egos of feeble and fragile souls. Moist lashes are more than what they seem...maturity is in the ability to keep the cheeks dry. This is the facade many long to be projected, so protrude on, into the role of expectancy.
 

The script has a blueprint, broken down in levels wider than the bridge between nostrils. Shallow yet broken down in sequels stretched out and magnified beyond the heavens. It is a short life and with every passing dawn, souls awaken with the possibility of being broken by the day.

 

What more a soul that has been conditioned to expect less from the earth. Yet the clucking in the morning is melodious, not that much attention was paid to sleep at night, but optimism lies in the hopeless expectation of running into that soul lost in the oceans.

 

 Every time moist eye lashes meet water, there is belief that a reunion is soon in effect...water...sand...dust to dust. Soon, nothing will matter.

Shadow of shallow

Three fucking months and all I do is grow shallow by the day… pardon my oxymoron, I know you can’t grow shallow…it’s like saying I’m big in a small way…I’m fucking aware. However, you do understand my point? Having woken up every day for the past ten years, to make a cautious effort to be myself…as different and queer as I may seem, I try to remain ME. I think there is something in this Atlanta water, besides the “ass grow” that is. I now wear red dresses that look like someone taped a bandage to my skin and heels made out of timon and pumbas epidermis. What the fuck did this city do to me? Skipping through my fever ray playlist, I don’t even listen and wonder anymore, I just….skip!


I am aware that there is more to life than malls, online shopping and religiously watching desperate housewives every Sunday night, which is sheer fuckery if I might add. I’m very good with words, but my conversation plant withered right before my eyes. Now I blurt out absurd slangs at random pitches. The other day, I overheard myself say “on the boss boss”….retracked my day and the preceding events…realized that I got it from jah-bless..like really tho kim? I didn’t bother shaking my head, instead, I said it one more time and watched it spread…now the women I live with wont stop saying it.

What happened to my dreams of staring at the sea shells and downing a bottle of rum by the sea? Like pac, my ambitions of smoking a port to clear my thoughts out? Shallow I tell you! Not surprised though, this is the “norm” to many. I weep for those who never had the opportunity to walk the streets of los Angeles at 4am till the sun rises…acid trip or not, it was an experience…an awakening one at that.

I must have slipped back into slumber, because it obviously takes more than a brilliant acid trip to shield one from the shadow of shallowness…depth, where art thou? I’d take two more weeks of round the clock vertigo!

…………………………………………..I’ll be back, overstock just sent me an email….no, really!

MY DATE WITH JESUS-BOY

Firstly, I want to say a big congrats to Azazel for all the nonsense drama he has been causing on blogsville…I taught you well lil hommie. Lol.Ok, so yall know that I have been the least controversial on this blog thus far. This isn’t because I’ve had nothing to say about my religious beliefs or lack thereof, but because I have never perceived it to be that important a topic to blog about….until now.Shortly after graduation, I decided to go “thank God” for his mercies and all that good stuff.

This was the first time I set foot in church in about a year and I must admit, besides the unnecessary ranting from a guest pastor, it was refreshing. Throughout the church service, I had weird ass thoughts…literally. I either caught myself staring at people’s asses or fantasizing about the “drummer boy.” Something about him was so sexy…yes, I’m not a big fan of the dick, but I really wanted to sexually harass this one. Church service ended and I was more than happy to hop in my car and spark my last cigarette.A week later, one of the “aunties” from church called me and our conversation went a lil something like this:
Aunty: Hello Afrikim
Me: Good afternoon ma, sorry I didn’t come to church (I saved both of us the bullshit), I’m in San Diego
Aunty: Oh it’s ok darling, God is good…anyways, one of the guys here was asking about you, so I told him I’d tell you first. Is it ok to give him your number?
Me: (with the widest fucking grin on my face) Yes ma…is it the drummer boy?
Aunty: haha…yes, his name is Uzo
Me: ok ma
I was so excited I started to paint pictures in my sinful head. Three hours later, he called and we had a lil chat. He asked if we could meet somewhere and we fixed a date for the following Thursday. I woke up super early on Thursday and picked out something that wasn’t too “desperate” looking because I knew how these church people could get sometimes. I wore my “light up Nigeria” t-shirt, a pair of jeans and flip flops.

Uzo (the drummer boy) called a few hours before our date and asked if we could meet at starbucks instead, so I agreed. 5pm...and I was there, I sprayed half a bottle of perfume on my shirt trying to mask the smell of the blunt I had just hit on my way there, cos afterall, na high pessin go high to converse with Jesus boy….I didn’t know what the fuck to expect.As he got out of his car, I smiled cos the guy was highly delicious looking…I mean, God must have really rewarded him for playing those drums, cos dayyuuummm! Anyway, we gave each other the “Christian hug” and walked in starbucks.

For some strange reason, we both had matching outfits on and I was soo ready for a second date, u know…the one where we possibly would get to  rip those outfits off..lol.Thirty minutes into the conversation and we had exchanged extensive information and shared some really good laughs. I then was certain he had the biggest crush on me. Everything was going well, until somehow, I managed to slide the topic of sex into our conversation and drummer boy looked me in my contact lens beautified eyes and said “I am celibate…” EJO! ABEG! BIKO! Ex-fucking-cuse me! You said who? Celi?....hmmnn…this boy did not just make me waste 20bucks on gas, half my perfume bottle and heavy ass make up to tell me he was not fucking till he got married! WUSA! Na to rape am be dat.

“So, what did you want to see me about?” I had to ask, cos I was lost o.He adjusted his seat and moved closer to me, my heart was racing and I could feel some kind of horniness coming on…I mean, I knew I would have to fight this celibacy off, but I didn’t know it would be this easy…I was pleased. He held my hands and stared into my eyes, then he said “I wanted to talk to you because I think you are a really attractive, intelligent and strong woman”…I thought to myself “duh! But go on”…he then continued “well, I am currently in covenant, and I am training to be a pastor.”

At this point, my sexy thoughts started to morph into something you would otherwise see on Americas most wanted…but hey, let’s see where this leads. “I want you to come back to church, where you belong”…….I’d love to tell yall about the rest of my date, but I think I blacked out, I must have recited 10 cuss words in 500 languages in my head and at this point all I could think of was “did this Jesus boy just make me drive 30miles in traffic to preach to me?”…after this whole yadiyadiya, I started to hear him comment about my shirt being tight and how people would attribute my dressing to irresponsibility and how I deserve more than I get right now, and the only solution would be to get closer to God…I took the rambling for another 5minutes, didn’t even thank him for the coffee and told him I had to leave.

When he asked why I was in such a hurry, all I could say was “I just remembered that I have half a blunt sitting in the car, and right now, that shit will come in handy…God bless.”

CHANGE

Sooo...I think it's time to "revamp." I'll be changing the blogstyle in a bit...hope u guys like the new blog. TENZ

THE ACCUMULATION OF MY FACADES

Panegyric reform of this maniac morphed into a resemblance, an imposter of who I wanted to be. Cuddling with the devil and dancing with vampires in a melody only he could hear in his head. I took sleep from him and sucked the life off his lips. Quickly becoming the fuse to the pressure under which he felt indebted to submit. Raving like a mad man, emotions made him tremor, sending him into a state of mind dehydration. Deprivation and deceit was all I offered, nonetheless, the dish was presentable, and often came on a platter placed in between my thighs

Suicidal and submissive, he fell to my feet as I dug my fangs deep in his temple, he begged for more….confused. Ostracized from his own life, he was now a slave to all the inflictions of Maxwell, Ayo, Gbenga and Acheve…he paid for Jason, Mo, and even cousin’s torture. I felt no remorse and I drilled a nail on his palm as though he was bearing the pain for their sins. The eerie ambiance that surrounded my satin sheets made his hairs pay closer attention, voluntarily submitting himself to sadism, slow and subtle death lurked.

Don’t worry about me, I had my cyanide in the forms of muscular six footers with penises that left imprints in dust. When I’m done, history will never come full cycle, spoken of for centuries to come, yet in that chapter marked “anonymous,” the biggest lesson will be embedded. Lines rippled across my forehead as his need began to surpass my desire to further inflict. Rhythmic vibrations sent chills down my spine, sadly…I only wanted solitude after the earth shaking, mind blowing performances as he held on as though his life source was in between my light source and wrapped tobacco. These creatures lust after snob, thirst for attention from the “could care less-es” and danced to the offbeat of the tempo-less. Applauding my ignorance and exalting my blunder, it is time for an exchange.

Deciding to proceed in this quest for a scapegoat count, I began to realize the exceptional resemblance…I had morphed into a resemblance, an imposter of Maxwell, who exhibited attitudes similar to that of Ayo, with a hint of Jason’s archaic sense of humor. I had quickly become a carelessly packaged simulation of sheer awkwardness, a collage of “in your face fuck-it-ness.” These actions only created and reproduced more dummy hearts, wickedness correlated. I had become Lucifer’s bride personified, Jezebel, Delilah and Hitler (if he has a vagina)…I had birthed cold heartedness and breathed it into the unknowns…I had conformed. Light rays submerge, darkness falls out of slumber, accompanied by my silhouette, I walked out of the shadows, into an army of imposters, zombie like and in sync, I realized…………….these faces looked familiar...these faces were me.

For My Friends

I want to hold you, tell you it will be alright, but I know deep down the venom contained in hypocrisy. I watch you cry when you lose your mothers and I can't show you the way to eternity.
Solace is in the mirror. Look at you, look at it. See the lines on your faces...remember when we played in the sand, we threw out boomerangs and now we're all grown; getting hit upside our heads because they finally came back to us.
I stare at you, not because I think less of your beings, but because I see your souls. You confide in me and all I do is stare...nod, agree...or not. Your lives turn out so differently from the blueprints we drew together, as we played in the sand...do you remember the times? When innocence was our middle name? Now we are grown, shared experiences, support systems, laughters and tears.
I run my fingers along the lines of your various height measures and shrug. You are grown now, we are older...wisdom eludes; the transparency in our semi visible wrinkles...underlying u say? Well, give it time and we'll be closer to skeletons revealed. Aging parents, dying caregivers; role reversals, we take turns to be a part of this life cycle. Walking an endless trail, we head to OUR individual destinies.
You may mourn me, I may give an eulogy at your demise, but for what shall we account on that day? Our memories, friendship, the traits that set us apart from others...our seeds will grow up prisoners of our footprints, yet we persist. No light at the end of our tunnels, cos truly our caskets will only be illuminated by tears of our mini me's.
Heavens of curiosity; favors, quests, times we've shared, spent wisely or in sheer idleness. Love? We have that too, but overtime, it has changed in contextual phases. How many times will we shed together? Will I tell you it's gonna be ok? Or will I still stare and inquire about your innermost desires.
Lost in thought, I still can't shed your tears...products of your ducts are unique to your being. Back to our rivers of belief, we make a pact to sprinkle our ashes within, maybe someday our souls will create the tides for those who drink from it. I love you...conveniently, but this burden shall not be shared as my heart profusely bleeds; fluids all too familiar...desensitized by our empty streets, your lives have been torn down over and over again yet...conveniently, like a spider web I volunteer to tighten the loose ends.
Your pain is yours, and mine is mine, somehow we still permeate...let those tears be a reminder, that trials are just around the corner, let those smiles be an indicator that so am I. Shoulders, ears, arms, heart and all engraved within...someday my friend, we will run through our muds relentlessly and free of worry...someday my friend...we will.

Dedicated to Fatima Oyeku and Temi Gomez. My FRIENDS.