Reckless

When you walk into a hall full of introverts and you find one noisy extrovert,

When you walk into a ladies’ change room and you find one male janitor pretending to be cleaning the window panes,

When you walk into a class full of thinkers and problem solvers and you find that one guitar-weilding fellow absent-mindedly plucking at the strings,

Whenever there are TTs on fleek going, there is this one follower of yours who is busy retweeting pictures from @TitiesOnFleek

And you ask yourself “Who the heck is this guy?”

The guy you find walking around on campus with one leg and half

The guy who walks into a silent auditorium whistling tunes that makes no sense,

And everyone around turns With their eyes reading, “Who the heck is this guy?”

But hey, relax. My name is Prince, not “This Guy”.

I can see I’m making progress indeed,

Because I have decided to stop looking like a pathetic guy with a different gait in need.

More like a freestyle,

Planned but not rehearsed; no more looping of a daily routine.

More like Agya Koo,

Scripted but not controlled by its words like a machine.

And oh! The fear of an insufficient tomorrow?

Like how you and I panic when we hear of imminent sorrow?

Nah! Let’s  not throw the towel in,

Go with the wind; but with caution.

Life can’t be that complicated.

Even if it is we are the very ones who complicate it

With our worries, insecurities and fears.

How about you see life this way:

No matter what you do; good or bad, consequences seems to be inevitable.

 Difference is one is less painful and gruesome.

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CURLY HAIRED DEITY

CURLY HAIRED DEITY

 

Sitting around the bonfire, like a litter of puppies suckling on their mother’s ever-nourishing breasts.

With our eyes wide open and our ears pricked like greyhounds ready to pick the waves from the mind of Bolarinwa the Great Orator.

I remember this very well,

How, with much eagerness and excitement my playmates then and I asked him,

“Uncu, we dey wait they story oh. Time don reach na”

He cleared his throat as he held his staff tight.

“My children, I want to tell you a great story,”

He said as he looked around to see if we were following.

He seemed to love what he saw, we were gleaming with excitement.

He adjusted himself and continued,

“About someone mighty, a great deity

At whose beck and call is Mother Nature.

She walks on stars and leaves behind her, trails of

Hoolahoops like the rings of Neptune, and traps shooting stars, using them as the sand in her hourglass.

My children, you might not understand, but this is not even enough to describe her awesomeness.

Her eyes sparkled as a reservoir of uncut diamonds would.

Her graceful gait like a wavy nebula system in motion.

And when she speaks,”

Uncu Bolarinwa paused and took a deep breath.

“It snows.”

Honestly, if you ask me if I understood half the things he  said,

I really can’t say for sure that I did.

If I should write all the description he went on and on and on about, I would run out of ink and paper.

Nevertheless, it was more of an ear candy,

We loved how he always use big words; so we thought.

And how he tend to use his stories to make us feel dandy

“But,”

He said with great intensity

And that was where my interest began to gather momentum,

The story just began

“She wasn’t known for any of that.

Neither was she known for her kind heart

She wasn’t even acknowledged for her power and dominance,

Not for her ability to make great men look like mere boys.

But the magic her hair did when she flipped it,

The way each strand of hair glowed in the dark like molten gold,

were so perfectly wavy, you would think they were made in the workshop.”

Nah, see I ain’t doing this.

I won’t go down memory lane just to tell you all the things he said about some deity’s hair.

I mean, tell us she could do things Venus, (please insert all of ‘em female gods here for me) couldn’t do.

But it really baffles me how, of all the things she could do, her hair was what stood out.

Then I remembered.

“Oh! We are in Africa”

BLUE BIRD AND A TICK

BLUE BIRD AND A TICK

 

20 messages from 4 conversations.

Two new followers.

Adwoa Smart just liked your LONG note.

3 new snaps view.

12 revines.

Warning! Battery level ain’t on a fleek bruh!

 

Reduced totally to pop sounds and notifications, all in the name of technological simplifications; are awesome conversations and serenading.

Back screen lights almost like stars now if you were staring down from a hot air balloon at night.

Red for no,

Green for yes.

Enter, backspace, enter again for a session of brief “hello –hi” conversations.

Blood pulses now taking the form of electrical pulses,

Heartbeats now morphing into gadgets’ vibration,

Break a leg but don’t break the screen,

“Open the app at this time, let’s have our meeting”, while the open airy space behind the gardens lays unused.

Cries of drop that yam, when you pull out a “simple” phone,

Missed calls aren’t rose flowers anymore,

Text messages now outmoded, they seems more like the only medium telecommunication companies use to transmit their annoying messages.

Of course,

“Hey can we meet at Eddies Pizza at 5 today,” now “Hey check your whatsapp”.

When was the last you picked a newspaper?

Compared to how you constantly scroll through your social media news feed?

When was the last time you called to say hello?

Compared to the number of times your heart skips a beat when you get two blue ticks yet no reply?

When was the last time you dropped your phone and took a stroll?

Compared to the number of times you wake up and first thing is you stretched your hand to pick your phone?

Smartphones et al are unbeatably awesome, helpful tools,

But don’t let them make us look like a bunch of i-can’t-live-life-without-this-phone fools.

If there was a sentence setting up us in front of a firing squad,

I will be the first to go,

Followed by the rest of you phone-hoarding zombies.

 

 

Love Yours

So I haven’t put up a blog post in a long time, not necessarily because of a writer’s block that seems to not want to wear out; I can still feel its icy hands on my creative nerves, not because of laziness, not because I couldn’t find something to write on or ran out of ideas, but simply because of fear and insecurities.

Fear that my write up might not be appealing

Fear that i don’t really have what it takes to be a poet, art and book lover, writer and a blogger 

Fear that I might end up making some grammatical error, like I always do, and not realize it, then get ridiculed for it.

Fear that it might not be perfect like I think it is

Fear that my insecurities of not being good enough will creep into my blog post and snatch away the beauty of what I have written.

Fear that those I admire and hope they love what I put up will not even like it

Fear that what I know might not be enough to make a beautiful post

Fear that my post won’t be as awesome as that of the coolest bloggers around

Fear of my numerous insecurities

Insecurities that made the pen feel heavy in my hand

Insecurities that constantly reminded me that I am not good enough

Insecurities that made me look down on how awesome I could actually be with words, pen and a paper

Insecurities that made me ponder on the one or two things I was doing wrong and ignoring the thousand and one things I was doing right when I write

Insecurities upon insecurities

Fears upon fears

Fears embedded in insecurities and studded with chronic laziness, excuses and writer’s block.

I could go on and on and on but this year, its one of my resolution to be a better person in all area of my life, but how can I be better if I don’t practice? If I don’t make effort to cancel out my fears and insecurities. I love writing, and for each day I refuse to write, part of me dies, I can’t keep living that way. So I will do me henceforth, make efforts to be better, so as much as you my dear reader will also enjoy the thoughts my brain brews. And forgive me in advance in my future blogs’ grammatical errors and whatever might not be in place “rightfully” but I do hope you enjoy.

 

The aim that this blog hopes to realize at the end of the race, hopefully starts henceforth. Cheers to a year of overcoming our individual fears and insecurities. Whatever is yours, my dear reader, you can overcome it. Know that you are not Alone. You aren’t alone.