WHAT IS THIS THING?

this thing in between the legs,

this thing that men go crazy about,

that women use as a weapon,

this vavabobalagoroouis( don’t bother;it’s not in the dictionary)  thing that smells something,

this thing that has no price yet price-tags weight it down,

this thing that women go extra miles to keep it moist and tight,

this thing that men would fight and kill for,fight

this thing that has no expiry date or does it?

this thing that houses mighty men, no matter their sizes,

how do you use your thing?

do you play soccer or tennis with it?

do you know how to keep it’s honor and not let men pushed it in as if you’re trash?

what IS THIS THING?

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HER?

Often times, i make an effort to write -something-delicious about him. I always start on a paper but stop half-way and tear it all-up. For what words can describe him? A man i have not seen and heard?

Sometimes when the guilt is too much, it pushes me to  pick my old laptop  and write something down like i am doing now.

But even then, the words fail me, for i fear, no words , no story or essay can do justice to him!

Even if i am able to  write my thoughts down , it still can’t describe;

how deep my heart has grown,

how much peace my soul has found,

how miraculously my paranoid- sickness vanished,

how strong i have become,

how content i am,

Because indeed , there were days  i was dead….that i thought only of killing myself, of not finding myself worthy to fit into this so called  world.

and then he appeared! to lit up my world! ooh what a joy he brought to my heart, that people who kept  a bet on me dryly asked, ‘what the hell happened to her?’

Because;

i now can laugh out loud,

i now can smile deeply,

i now can inhale the morning’s freshly air ,

i now can truly live,

i now can break boundaries and make histories,

ooh why the frown? why is  your head down? so you actually believed i would rot? face-out?

then there’s news for you….

ooh yes! You ask what the hell happened to her??…

I SAY;

GOD happened!

WE can NEVER be REaDY for DEATH

No matter how you tell yourself; it’s okay,

No matter how you think you’re preparing to handle it,

There’s not enough  preparations that can cushion the heart to take death’s heavy blow.

And so not even Time can erase the  emotions, or replace the void.

Even when you know you too would be caught by death’s long hands into the bottomless pit of no-return, you still cannot accept it! No! you refuse to accept it! It doesn’t  matter if you’re 20 or 50 or 70 you still want to live on and see the world go on. Who knows? Perhaps the moment of your scheduled death would be the time the latest-smart-phone is lunched.

Sometimes there is fear, the real fear that imprison you and sets you gaga…like the day-before-yesterday, when you heard a young man had died from a car accident… you refuse to go out , you sell your car and give the offerings to God(hoping to bribe him, but genuinely,  you do it to beg him.)  You refuse to pick a cab; you prefer to walk and so you walk and walk ; your legs all dusty. But you stop when the next day an elderly man dies on that same road; knocked down by a vehicle.

You become so  obsessed with death that you stalk him or it it her? You keep an updated list of people who die in a  week , month , year and their cause of death….

You stop eating pepper soup because ; someone got choked and died

You stop smoking because lung cancer can kill,

You put OUT ALL  your-shining-things in your house because you heard thunder can strike you dead,

You stop eating your favorite peanut butter because; some one died from it’s allergy.

You are so paranoid that you forget sleep too can kill and so one day you go to bed and you never wake. Who do we ask? Where do we go? Who are we to question Death?

deaththhhh

THE ACT OF LIVING

It’s that time again , when my body floats in the air,  as if a piece of   string was holding me up.

Although i walk briskly down the road ,i cannot feel my feet, my eyes are wide open but yet i cannot see. I hear nothing too…no i hear the wind or is it the air chasing something i cannot fathom.

These days, there’s no motivation to wake up, its always a terrible struggle to get-up-from-the-bed , and so the act of living has become a tedious duty to perform.

I have lost appetite for living ooh,

even Abena’s horrible singing in the shower  irritates me no more,

even mama’s dawadawa jollof rice has lost its taste in my month,

can you imagine, that, i can even stand the nauseating  smell of aunt Fatima’s mysterious  concoctions  she calls cocktail.

even the smile of the tall-dark-handsome man next door means nothing to me.

And so on December 31st , when most young women are preparing to go to church (which is just to deceive God) because they would later lie down with their legs open praying to other god . I go around and around in circles searching for a manual -on-living , hoping that perhaps some angel up there somewhere would pity me enough and drop down on earth a detailed- to-do-list or manual that would show me how to live.

because i no longer know how to live,

i have forgotten, how, it is to live,

was i once living? Please do tell me;

what is food for?

what are clothes meant for?

is bathing necessary?

how do i smile or laugh?

how do i pray? and to whom would i be praying to?

Today , January 1st, i make an effort to live only because i am beginning to  frighten people;they avoid me like a plague. And so now, i pretend to live by;

talking more , so people wouldn’t notice how dead i am,

smiling and laughing , so people would think…hey- how- happy- she- is,

i now eat and eat, although i know not the difference in the taste between bitter leaves and lettuce,

nor whether a trouser was meant to be wore from the top-to-the down or from the down-to-the-top,

i bath and bath, pouring buckets of cold  water on my head…. i do not know whether cold is  hot or hot is cold,

is this is a temporary state of death? a sort of punishment?

i browse the Internet 24/7 , i roam the streets, i search the oldest archives of the library, i  ask around…..but nothing , no one , not even the mighty  Mr. Google knows THE-ACT-LIVING

i practice yoga,

read Ben Carson’s gifted hands,

speak to myself in the mirror,

get laid  with a few useless guys,

Nothing , absolutely nothing helps!