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.

Trance

Thump! Drums!! Thumping drums!!! Dudum! Dudum!!! Smoke swirls, merging colors...intertwined in unconventional complexity. *snap!*...she tilts her head slightly towards another's heart safe...
In a trance, waves spiral across her vision. In no specific order, the syntax of her life creates a montage. Revealing the color of fear, her heart pounds. Pounds. Pounding louder than her ears can tolerate. Slightly again, her head tilts...she catches the other's gaze, androgynous being just glares at her overflowing hair; it disappears into an ocean of pain, bleeding nostrils, archaic taste dissolves to the back of her tongue. Relax. She tells herself as the same words escape from "its" lips.
Outburst of laughter, seemed so far away, yet emerging from her gut. She watched her friends melt, the whirlwind coups her vision. Androgynous stays the same. Ever so bright, ever so colorful. In no specific order, you MUST see the beauty in this syntax.
Metal never tasted so good...rust never looked so bright...she thought to herself "I am sane." Sanity? She would be the last person to grasp its concept. Her lips graze this being...still an empty glare. Reminiscing about the rebels on these mean streets, she took a deep breathe, finding solace in a seemingly omnipresent jinx. Flashbacks: a stabbed rose: rape; abuse; brutality; slavery; restraint...loss of innocence! She stresses her vocals, embraces her disability...any point here? In no particular order, I say...respect the FUCKING syntax!!! A frown from the being puts things in perspective now...
Knowledge is far fetched, fear is a state of mind and laziness loves to lurk. Androgynous has hands, they cup her face, lifting her head up, forcing her to now look into these fully dilated pair. Androgynous whispers "a sloth spends 80% of its life asleep"...
In no particular order...her trance is narrated...respect the syntax and you just might get the message.

Just cos...

These pictures were taken on my phone, almost from the same spot, but facing different directions...(dont judge me, im still a rookie). I have developed a sudden obsession for black and white photographs and I believe that the human "eye" is a wonderful instrunment...Hannah Wilke's black and white portraits have changed the way I use my "eye"...immensely.

Whatever it is that these pictures depict to you, will be a personal experience, somehow symbolizing a thematic occurence in your life, sadly, one you might not be aware of.

Every artwork, every painting...every form, is subject to contextual interpretation...something that varies across the race of "individuality"...Now I shall invest in a nice camera, and see how far i can push my depleting brain..lol

My Work

It hit me again. I stand outside my own work, beyond my own worth...a craft, an artwork that only blooms in the deepest darkest season of sorrow. It rains, the drops of water on my face, it reigns, the merging of tears with this flood. I close my eyes and see my own casket, imaginary eulogies said by my friends, foes, family, and acquaintances.

I should be crying but I can't let it go, the thought of the bitter sweet nature of this demise, separating body from spirit.. The thought of seeing my mother's face once again, the thought of hearing my father's wails! The thought that I might have caused this span to shorten, beyond it's duration. Be strong, be steadfast, be hopeful, careful and alive.

Live Afrikim! Live! Life has so much to offer they say, but afterwards? What happens to the fruits that grow from the seed offering? U give me a bite, taste life they say! Enjoy it, but don't get too comfortable! The harsh reality of death lingering hits me one more time and I flick the switch. Crawling into the darkness that has been I. The darkness that has been me.

I'm exhausted, drained...questioning every breath, probing every dawn and making no "long-term" plans. My joints hurt, knees are weak, cant stand, sit or sleep. Insomnia is my buddy and restlessness fills my body. Yet I stand firm, these shoulders hold many heads, soaked with so many's tears...still I stand, on shaking ankles, still I stand...on shaky grounds.

I turn around and dry my father's tears, I look forward and walk into my mother's awaiting embrace. Yet, it hit me, I'm only standing in the bathtub that is now filled with my own tears. I scrub, scrub, and...I realize, maybe it's time for a tear drought, maybe it's time for a rebirth, force it till u feel it buki! Smile till u mean it, because whether u like it or not, grand ma said "que sera"...whatever will be, will be...

It hurts, it burns, it aches...the worst part of it all is that i'm still fucking awake! The price I pay for being a "love child"...why punish me? Let me inflict this pain on myself...hand me a lighter, pass me a razor and watch me push the limits. How's that for a crisis?

...self induced closure, self fulfilling prophecies, subjective memory and inflicted pain...this is me, this is I, this is...my artwork, my life, my painting...my cross.

No Air

I gasp...gasp...breathe...in, out, say it with me "W-U-S-A"...turning blue, pale, dropping to the ground, tearing down the walls, scratching, kicking, help!...no air!

This exterior fools you, so you treat it like you see it. Have you no fear? No compassion? No emotions? No love? No air?!

You build me up and break me down, I let you, I watch you, I indulge you...gasping!

You throw the keys in flames! In silence I watch a montage of my life go ablaze. You won't bother explaining, why?

I switch it up. Like a new outfit, I present buki, but you strangle her. I bring afrikim, but you show no mercy.

Kim, natalie, ceci, temi...what the fuck do u want? Wigs? Heels? Shorts? Leather? What? Nothing pleases you...still I clutch to this hope of some...air! *gasp*

Can't you see? Have you no clue?! Will you just look...into these eyes and see the suffering! The suffocation! The tears!

Will you turn your back? Leave me on my knees? Carelessly sway across my pool of tears? Like wetness to your feet, are you comforted by my dilemma? Does it make you happy?...*gasp*



I let out a last sigh, shamelessly falling to your feet...your name dances off my tongue like it saved the best for last. You sneer...and walk away...yet? *gasp*

It is a humbling experience, I look back and see those who long for me, yet...I tread your grounds, walking this endless trail, thirsty, hungry...air-less!

My pulse increases. Slows down. Faster, slower, irregular...*silence*

Are you happy now? You killed me, you took my breathe away...usurping every evidence of life in me...and ride off on your high horse...I lay there, breathless...I lay there, lifeless, and for the first time, I see the beauty in these open eyes.

I trusted you to tell it to me, I wanted to see myself in you, I wanted to give it all, oh wait...I did. Now gravity calls as I sink to my demise.
No air.

Random Conversation

There is beauty in the art of sadism. We were taught that light is the opposite of darkness and good has a negative correlation to bad, but I think everything exists for a reason. The bungee jumpers and the fuckers who would dare raise a razor to an innocent child's face. The very existence of both amazes me, and even though our society forces us to be taciturn or ignorant to the beauty in those things that are stigmatized as "evil."

I acknowledge the fact that they are all able to co-exist in the same realm. How dare we label and judge others, all in the name of existentialism or shall I call it pure double standards! I have flaws, so do a lot of you. You want and ask for your loved ones and acquaintances to embrace your flaws and accept them, yet you capitalize on the shortcomings of others and blame it on some subconsciously innate experience that must have shaped their being.

It is convenient, it is pointing a finger at someone, forgetting what happens to the remaining four, it is only natural...we are only human, and we should not let our prejudice nature get the best of us...but don't take it from me, cos I just judged you.