Loneliness – All in this life's journey…

Leo

I never said

I taught you to roar

You always had it in you

deep in your throat

you just took your time.

But then I was there

when only meows and purrs escaped your lips

instead of the growls of a jungle beast

when all you did was run and pounce and fall.

I couldn’t carry you

so I just fell with you

wanting you to stand

so that you could lift me.

I cried your tears

because lions don’t shed tears

They only shake their mane and bare their teeth.

Now your growl is thick

Your roar is strong

And I am a doe

that must either become a lion

or get left behind.

Ikilo (Warning)

Bi omode ba fe te

Owo a ma yun

Ese a ma yun

Ara e o ni bale

tori ete ki n gbe je

o ma n kiri bi aisan

aisan to n wa eni ti o ma koba.

Eni a wi fun oba je o gbo

Eni a sofun oba je o gba.

Ete a ma sofun omo

“Sure te te te wa o”

“Sure te te te wa o.”

Teleola o fe te

Fi ara buruku bale

joko si aye re

ko ma ba kabamo

Aboro la so fun omoluabi

ti o ba de inu re a di odindi.

(Interpretation)

When a child wants to get into trouble

his hands itch

his legs itch

he will be restless

Because trouble isn’t still

It roams about like a disease

A disease looking for who to implicate.

Let the person we speak to listen

Let the person we speak to accept

Trouble will tell a child

“Come very quickly”

“Come very quickly.”

Teleola you want to get into trouble

Calm your restless body

sit in your place

that you don’t regret.

We tell a responsible child half a word

when he digests (understands) it, it becomes whole.

Tears are not enough
What did you assume, little fool?
You think your spine is curved for no reason?
Wailing will profit nothing
sobbing and weeping will not suffice.
As your eyes can never empty
the curve will never straighten.
Embrace the wet dust
then you’ve only just begun.
If mucus were wine
surely you’d be drunk.
Keep at it, furrow your brows
Calluses and scars
Blood and sweat
Wrinkles and age
These be the only propitiations you can make
Because tears will never be enough.

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Every time I am under duress, my already small voice becomes smaller, fading away with each blow life or the devil delivers, until my mouth produces squeaks barely audible to whichever perplexed person is listening and I eventually become mute as I stop talking altogether and become wrapped in my misery.
I like to think that I am not a lazy person but sometimes when challenges come, my first reaction is to stop and let the lamentations spill through my eyes, like a few days ago when I was just celebrating a successful August and looking to shock myself and colleagues by steadily climbing higher this September, and then all of a sudden, a brick wall just sprang up in front of me, right in the face of my joy. I hate that I cry at these times. I hate the weak feel it gives and the frail person it projects me as but try as I may (and have in past times to no avail), my frown always gives way to salty leaks.
Ironically, I feel better after a good cry. So much better that only after tearing up can I function normally again. Only after sobbing and thinking of how the universe is against me am I usually more alert, as I am now, barricading my feelings and emotions, preparing to wave off future blows.
My smiles these days are more from self-pity. I keep comparing myself to friends that have achieved what I am still dreaming of but I find that I am being ungrateful. There are thousands in this country that will be happy to have even half of what I own so I try to replace my stupid self-pity smile with one of gratitude and hope.
I’ll keep pressing forward, bending my back to the full glare of the sun with SZA’s Omega and Sia’s Titanium sending me to sleep when it has set.
Lol.
Look at me talking like I have a choice.

Shalom.

Monster

Hello guys. I have quasipoetry today (I think) and it’s in form of a narrative in two parts. Please share what you think you see in the comments section. Thank you.

Master left at dawn

on the last day of the rains

with a little wave, a few tears and a promise to return.

Bound, voices laughing in my head

my songs and moans echoing to the mountain tops

where I roam free only at starlight.

I have heard tales of the sun

how it burns and destroys all in its path

how it reduces my kind to soul-less shadows.

Isn’t master a god?

Coming and going all these seasons?

Festering wounds and burst blisters,

bloody metal and my putrid stench.

Death must come to all things one way or another.

Awash with blinding light,

murmuring last words in deluded sanctity,

awaiting my screams and sure demise,

birds erupt in songs sweet, breaths are lungful and sweeter.

Where, oh death is now thy sting?

Master never told a lie

surely I will meet my end.

Puzzling and musing on this new mystery,

master returns with the love in his eyes

“Why do you wish to leave me and become a soul-less ghoul?”

My god and master never told a lie.

The cold darkness welcomes me

for in shackles is where I belong.

I am, after all, a monster.

The fire has gone out

smoke rising as from a funeral pyre

smelling of sweat, infatuation and saliva

of lust and unbridled passion

floating into the thick darkness as unholy incense

leaving them groping

he for reason, she for sanity.

Songs by the shore replaced with throaty growls

as she unveils herself

daughter of Eve, ever disloyal

mother of sin, ever unfaithful.

Flee, oh gentleman, heed my voice

head for your light

before she engulfs you in eternal icy blackness

bid her farewell.

Leave her be in her evil form.

P.S. – There’s a monster in all of us. Let they that love you gird you in shackles.

Do follow on twitter @tele_ola

A Lone Star

Ormeh sent this to me this evening, freestyle. I liked it. I think you will too.

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Lone Star

Seven pm
The month was moving towards its end
The evening was bright and
The crickets were chirping happily around the bend
…there sat a girl
Just staring around looking like she was out for the atmosphere
To the unobservant eye she was just enjoying the evening
But she was imagining a life with more meaning

Just a normal girl
Not particularly pretty
Not particularly witty
Not particularly smart
Not particularly flat
Not particularly loved
Not particularly wanted
She was.. The poster girl for average

She had a few friends
Had a few laughs
Met a few guys
Had a few flings
What people didn’t know about Grey
(As was her name)
Was that she wanted more

She wanted more than a few mutual friends
She wanted the bffs; friends to the end,
Like was portrayed in movies.
She wanted more than a few flings
She wanted that fiery passionate love
She wanted that calm undying love
A companion to share experiences with
Even the little ones
Really just any kind of love would do
So long as it wasn’t the one between kins.

She stared at the sky
No stars tonight she thought with a sigh
There was nothing visible other than clouds
And this was how she saw her life
Beautiful at first but empty upon closer scrutiny
Oh look…
She found a star
Twas but a lone star
A lone star with no companions close or afar

She wanted her life to be like a beautiful night
The moon surrounded by a lot of stars

Beyond that not particularly beautiful smile
Beneath the girl plain to sight
Was a typical girl that wished to be loved
For deep down she was a lonely girl

A lone star.

– @miss_ormeh

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“Not particularly flat..” Yup! That was D right thing to say. 😉