Archive for the ‘Just Stuff’ Category

Darkness.

Gloom.

Lone candle snuffed out by a bitter wind hell bent on destroying this spark of greatness…zara

No tears now,

Peace at last for this angel whose gentle smiles lit up the tiniest crevices where fear found abode.

Stranger, not friend; yet tears roll silently down these faces as word arrives that this star is gone home to rest among shiny lights and angels in clouds afar.

Long lonely road to get you right where you are,

But now no tears, no more pain: no joy has left these hearts.

Now peace with the memory that you brought with you laughter, your voice and your blessed heart.

Loaded you came to give of you selflessly,

Now empty of all earthly treasures you return to the maker head held high,

Shoulders straight, confident in the fact that you have shared your gifts with all who passed you along the way…

DREAMER

Posted: March 11, 2014 in Just Stuff, Poetry
Tags: , , ,

I’m merely a dreamer, and you are my dream,
You stroll through my mind your face unseen,
But presence strongly felt.
Your laughter rings through the cosmic divide,
As I breathlessly long for your warm touch.

Like an ice cream thief, you have coldly stolen my heart with this joy you have brought.
You remain in my mind, effortlessly creating consciousness of you, despite the many distractions I find.

The hours go by, and still I see you clearly from within my minds eye,
Your sparkling eyes shining like diamonds,
They touch my soul, as I watch you blend into my dreams,
I am drunk in love, intoxicated by you it seems.

You have invaded my soul, my dream,
I need to inhale you to make me whole.
Just give me wings but for a time,
I’ll dream a world where you are mine.

I dream. Just because you are…

ADAPTED from I Dream of You by Cosmic Dreamer

She’s all of me.

From the first light of morningForbidden_Love_by_Maz6277

When I awake to a brand new day

To nighttime when I lay my head to rest

And drift into oblivion.

For her, sleep eludes me

And when it comes

It brings visions of her smile

Of her presence

Of her wondrous mind

Of her svelte body

And her amazing heart.

In her I find inspiration

And when I falter she shows mercy,

In forgiveness she encourages me,

Helping me across bridges from fear to hope.

She’s not mine

But this life is meaningless without her.

Her embodiment has filled my being

And my soul wholly consumed.

I have lost all worldly desires as she possesses me,

Praying to God that she leads me home….

 

For Onyinye

I love when brands get innovative and come up with ideas that engage the minds and hearts of consumers!

While surfing the web earlier today, I came across an innovative idea from household cleaning brand AJAX; (Procter and Gamble distributed it in Nigeria around year 2000 or so) an online app that helps to clean…wait for it…your social media life. Yes, clean it.

All Purpose Cleaner they said

All Purpose Cleaner they said

I know this probably sounds like a joke to you right now, and you’re wondering what a brand that’s more likely to appeal to nursing mothers or housewives would be thinking of venturing into the “cool” world of social media. But that’s exactly what the guys at P & G did.

Ajax Social Wipes as the app is called goes through your Twitter or Facebook (depends on which is dirty) and cleans it of all filth. Squeaky Clean I might add.

Go check out how dirty you are on social media and see if Ajax Social Wipes can get you clean.

 

Our society tolerates gross unfairness every day. It tolerates misogyny, racism and the callous indifference to those born without privilege.

But we manage to find endless umbrage for petty slights and small-time favoritism.

When a teacher gives one student a far better grade than he deserves, and does it without shame, we’re outraged. When the flight attendant hands that last chicken meal to our seatmate, wow, that’s a slight worth seething over for hours.

When Bull Connor directed fire hoses and attack dogs on innocent kinds in Birmingham, it conflated the two, the collision of the large and the small. Viewers didn’t witness the centuries of implicit and explicit racism, they saw a small, vivid act, moving in its obvious unfairness. It was the small act that focused our attention on the larger injustice.

I think that most of us are programmed to process the little stories, the emotional ones, things that touch people we can connect to. When it requires charts and graphs and multi-year studies, it’s too easy to ignore.

We don’t change markets, or populations, we change people. One person at a time, at a human level. And often, that change comes from small acts that move us, not from grand pronouncements.

SETH GODIN

Dear Onyinyechi,

When I began thinking up this letter, my head was not in the least bit clear. I know you’ll tease that Harp must have caused that, but just this once it wasn’t(perhaps the guys at Guinness need to start paying me for all my love for the Harp brand). I was sitting beside you at the only place you said you liked that night. We had done a trip of about 3 clubs looking for where to “chill” on a Friday night, but none until this one seemed to lift your dour mood.

I was somewhat concerned. I had never seen you this detached and guarded. I asked repeatedly if I had done anything to upset you, but you maintained that it was just “your regular mood”. You jest surely. Your regular mood for me is; witty, determined, engaging and not too shy to throw in that distinct laughter of yours to accentuate a conversation.

I have gone so far off course. I am writing this staring at you sleeping. It’s almost 7am, somehow you had slept off midway into putting your hair in rollers, and still in that lovely dress you wore yesterday, your head is ever so slightly on the pillow as you sweetly doze. I should take a picture. Something to record this priceless moment for all eternity, but something within me tells me there will be thousand other moments such as this to choose from.

It’s been so difficult for me these past 16 months to open my heart to beauty and the music that is borne of such a wondrous being such as you. I had sealed myself off from the world, hiding loneliness and the void behind a facade of being a workaholic. It’s been a most interesting period.

I have paused again. Watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, praying to God  to keep you till time loses all value. Your cute nose; ever so deftly placed by the grand maestro Himself like on a painting that even Michelangelo would have gaped at in awe. The lips, oh those lips that remind me of succulent grapes nurtured to perfection for the delicacy of near-gods…

I don’t know how this has happened, that one minute, I was devoid of any reason to believe that this life would be smiled upon by cupid, the other now asking myself if there was no need to make my house more comfortable for you as a woman. I make mental notes to get all the things you have requested for but I’ve not been able to provide. You see, my house has always been a house to me. There’s has been no one to share it with, so the business of turning it into a home has always been left on the back-burner. I had been successful at turning my back on love, content with accepting the crumbs of lust and transient obsessions. Anything just to feel the emptiness within. But here I feel the fullness of joy.

These are early days yet, and the fact that the journey is long and full of promise sets forth a fountain of hope in me. And as this New Year begins, I pray it grants us joy unequalled, the sort that God grants specially to those who follow His will.

Thanks for bringing sunshine and rain into this dark, deserted arid land.

Yours always,

Ese

First time I saw the chap, he was round and tiny and hairless. Cutest pink lips one could imagine, and a nose that suggested he was his mother’s son.  Eight days later they named him Oghenetega (God is worthy of worship) and so the journey began.

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I remember his baby tantrums with a smile now; seemed to me like he was going to be one determined man someday. Always wanted to have his way like all babies are wont to, but with Fisayo (his mom) being the disciplinarian that she is, he gradually learnt to make compromises.

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There is this calmness about him; for all of his hyperactivity, there is a stillness in his soul that I believe is as a result of the music of Bach, Beethoven and Mozart my sister used to play to him as a foetus and as he grew. It’s this pensive calmness that drew us to each other. That look on his face when he’s focused on something, as if he is deep in thought contemplating the pros and cons of a particular decision…. Priceless. Just priceless.

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But that is not why I love this boy ao much, our bond reach deeper into the very soul of things. 2012 was a turning point year for me; jobless, broke and at the end of the rope (or so it seemed at that time) I found strength in watching Tega laugh and smile and fool around. It was as if he felt I was going through a bad patch, and so he bonded with me. Hugged me like life depended on it, sat on me like I was a comfy couch and always so ecstatic to see me.

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I was going through hell, but in this boy I saw heaven and all its promises of hope, strength, renewal, faith and growth become real right before my eyes. I was crumbling within, but here was the sweet chap going happy go lucky with not a care in the world and smiling. After all, he’s a baby and had no care in the world. But somehow I knew better; that unspoken bond between us was such that when he looked at me, I felt he was telling me everything will be okay.

 

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And so I got off my butt and made a vow to turn my life around so I could take care of this boy. I told myself that I would do whatever it would take to make sure that I could take him out to fun spots, buy him clothes, toys, and everything. I stayed up nights praying to God to make a way for me, to help me be able to repay this angel who had been sent to walk me through the wilderness.

God answered soon as he eventually does. Things picked up little by little. In the storm I had lost one of my anchors and prized jewels, but the new dawn that was breaking looked loaded with a more bountiful harvest. I had come out of a dark tunnel to witness the beauty of a lush and fertile countryside, and more importantly it was all mine to cultivate and harvest from.

I haven’t even started making good on my promise to you Tega, but you know that uncle Ese loves you more than anything in the world. So as you celebrate your birthday today, know this for certain: the times will come when you will need me, and I will always be there for you.

Happy birthday mate!

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My love for Michael Buble is actually a recent one. I had listened to a lot of his old songs back in the days not knowing who was responsible for such deep, meaningfully refreshing and poignant lyrics. Yes words move me, and if you go ahead and snicker and mumble sissy, I’d understand. These lyrics below, to Michael Buble’s “End of May” seem to be what I would have written to express how I have until recently been feeling.  Somehow when I look back, I feel no worries,  no tears, no sad words…

I have somehow found strength in places I didn’t use to look. In God, in my work (I love my new job) and in helping others cross the bridge beyond fear to hope. I’ve watched my nephew Tega grown from a tiny baby, to a two-year old who likes FUN’s “Some Nights”, and will cry if you change the channel while a soccer match is on. In my darkest periods, his growth and the way he laughs come what may, gave me hope and helped me heal.

No I am not in denial or regret, there seems to have dawned on me a refreshing clarity of how things were and of how things needed to be. I have seen a past built on nonchalance, on complacence, on the backs of two broken spirits who needed strength to attain independence before venturing onto the crowded roads of interdependence.

In a way I feel like I just took a dive into a cold lake on a humid day, cooling the heat brought upon my neck by the scorching sun at the height of summer. I have found new strength rooted in the love of family and in the goodwill of friends (and the exposal of a few enemies), and still it all seems like I have just started on this journey of self discovery.

So each day, I wake up excited about the possibilities inherent in the new dawn, and I go about my walk much more eager to leave my mark on those I meet along the way. I have learnt that being responsible for others requires that you at first be responsible for yourself; that you take it upon yourself to stay true to the values you have set your heart on to follow.

I digress perhaps from this beautiful song, forgive me. Please download the song and thanks for reading these words….

Michael Buble – End of May

Golden haze,
Another morning feels like yesterday.
End of may..
Now you’re gone and there’s still bills to pay.
And you know it doesn’t help to make believe, you’re sitting next to me.
It doesn’t help, to make believe that you are right behind me
Saying it’s okay.

Longer days,
More time to sit and watch the pendulum sway.
In quiet rage I’m staring at this empty notebook page.
In times like these you feel like you are done with feeling,
You feel you want to stop the pain from healing
Because you feel like you’re the only one,
Who’s ever felt this way.

Some days in a daze, there’s brighter days.
Funny how the feeling never stays,
But I know I’ll have to come to terms when I’m awake,
Thinking about you is the icing on the cake.
Makes me realize the fact you’re gone for good for goodness sake.

Golden haze, another morning feels like yesterday.
End of may, a year is gone and I still feel this way,
When we meet again, I’ll ask you how you’re doing
And you’ll say fine and ask me how I’m doing

And then I’ll lie and I’ll say ordinary, It’s just an ordinary day.

It’s just an ordinary day

It’s just an ordinary day

—————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Edward Israel-Ayide

In Repair….

Posted: October 24, 2012 in Just Stuff, Poetry
Tags: , , ,

In repair I stand, breaking all these images of yesterday.

Steady trickles of blood as gash after gash tears my feeble skin…broken heart.

Days drag on, punctuated by habitual labour, a false substitute for long lost treasures,

And a willing heart.

Not much left now, just these broken frames of pictures taken under starlit skies on crowded beaches as we held each other close…

Goldfish…

No secrets now

Men must come now and sit at these tables to judge crimes of which they know not much.

Broken dreams; victory let loose from grasps weakened bit by bit till

That cold August day we agreed that these islands need to be built before an alliance could be established.

And so poetry and songs strike steady blows on hearts hurt much by bitterness, and anger… and silence.

Too many words…

Thorns in our flesh and in our hearts,

Two Angels hell bent on destruction

Who like wanton children drove this paradise to waste.

In repair we stand now healing,

The rains long gone and the storm.

Nothing left; save for the rubble from the ruins of broken dreams…and hope

To meet some months hence and say hello with smiles and hold hands as we walk in the sun….

O these fights within to stop the pain from healing

The wish to, if not much else, hold on to a reminder of when passion gripped our hearts

Until this blackness and the numbness stole the fire that we carried to light our paths.

Not alone but yet apart,

Across time, a heart speaks a prayer and looks with faith to begin a new journey

In repair…

For Chi…..please heal

Stop making excuses and start making decisions.

This mantra has been on my mind constantly lately. I’m certain many who hear me say it find it harsh, direct, maybe even rude. I find it liberating, empowering, and cathartic. Having spent 30 years of my life as a victim, the ability to say that to myself has been a godsend. At times I still suffer from moments of excuse making however more often than not “stop making excuses and start making decisions” creeps into my mind and I am quickly moving powerfully into the decision for which I was making excuses just moments before. Powerful.

I often ask myself why it took me 30 years to stop making excuses and become an overcomer of my history. Many of us have similar deals. We have experiences in our lives which have scared us, shaken us, taken from us, broken us. You have. So have I. Yet we continue the victimization by victimizing ourselves and not allowing healing, restoration, and growth. We continue to make excuses as to why it happened, why we are worthless, unworthy, and unlovable. Maybe it was a divorce, a physical violation, a break-up, a bankruptcy, or a crushing blow. Whatever it was, until we stop making excuses and start making decisions we will not overcome. We must make the most difficult decision; to decide to become an overcomer and shed the victim cloak for good. Even the most tattered rags can feel like a gown when faced with a change. But I’m not taking about change rather transformation. Transformation into what we have always been with one great decision. Over-comers.

Shed fear; you are deserving.

Shed pain; you are strong.

Shed hate; you are deep.

Shed loathing; you are worthy.

Shed the past; you are spectacular.

Making the decision to live is one of the most difficult decisions we must make. Yet we must make it. There is an abundant life just beyond the mindset we live in as excuse makers. You deserve to live a joyful, abundant life. Now is the time.

Make the decision.

Sean Moffet

@TheSeanMoffett

http://www.themoffettcompany.com

Used with permission of Sean Moffet 2012