Insomnia

She hardly calls these days

And her absence

Is much appreciated

For when she does

I don't enjoy the outcome

And spend the next day

Feeling debilitated

Like a star-crossed lover

She knows my weak spots 

And uses them 

To force her way in 

Even though

I don't want her

For the scars 

Of yesterday's bad outcomes

Are tiny chinks

In my emotional armour

She finds them, pushes

And in she comes

Taps on my hippocampus

Slips mental gears 

Into reverse

And digs up 

Buried images

Now I'm wide-eyed

Listening to crickets

And prayer calls from minarets

Fretting over tomorrow's decisions

And bridges

I haven't even encountered

Nor set foot upon yet

Come tomorrow

I'll have to find 

Another cemetery

With side roads

Wide enough

To park this hearse

'Cos I'm not done diggin'

To inter

Yesterday's baggage

I still intend 

To travel light

And take my chances

Hoping my willpower

Hasn't suffered 

Lasting damage

The white towel

The clang was literally life-saving

And reverberated through 

Every hollow bone in his body

After successive intervals of intense body-beating

His legs could hardly bear any weight

Having turned to jelly

Four steps were all they could muster

Collapsing under him

As his trainer brought out the stool

And reached for the brow duster.

The cooling from the compresses 

Gradually spread to his aching muscles

Creeping upstream along venous tributaries

Until it arrived its destination

And he began to shiver

As the blood was mopped from his brow

And the underlying gash stapled

He cast a sidelong glance

At the white terrycloth

His trainer had left behind over there

In the darkness

Underneath the chairs

That made up the front row

A part of him longed to see it fly

Sail smoothly over the ropes

Into the incandescence

Land at the umpire's feet

And bring a halt 

To this nonsense

 

He kept staring at it though

For its shimmering in the dark

Evoked the memory of a story

His Nana loved to recount

Before he left for glory

Five kings had camped against a small city

"This was going to be a massacre

Not a battle"

One whispered to another

As they lay in their tents

The night before advancing

And right they were

For shrieks of terror 

Woke 'em up

While it was still dark

And the smell of burning flesh 

Caused them to choke

As they fled to a mountain cave

To watch the decimation

Of their troops in horror

However

As the day wore on

They grew less despondent

For even though 

They had been caught unawares

The enemy was outnumbered

"Nightfall would soon be upon us"

Said one to the others

Assuaging their fears

"For then we can count our losses

And plan our counterattack like bosses"

They soon discovered

The horror show wasn't over yet

Apparently the elements 

Had joined their foe to conspire

Against their haughty bet

It turned out to be

The longest recorded wait

For a sunset

And the sun's presence 

Was like a tonic to their adversaries

Who kept on fighting

Like they ran on alkaline batteries

Whispering under their breaths

Every few minutes

"The sun is still up"

Till all the kings' men

Had been killed or captured

The clang brought him back

To the present

He stole one last look

At the towel

Kicked up from the stool

And approached his adversary

"The sun is still up"

He muttered 

As he ducked and feinted

EXPECTATIONS II

Ok so my writing(and dedication to blogging) sucks but like i said in my first post,as much as possible,i intend to convey a message with each post; some directed at specific individuals, others, just a general theme most people can relate to. I've been labelled "deep"; my reply to that is this "life's deep and should be lived deliberately not by happenstance"(not so harsh-sounding i hope).
A coupla weeks back i wrote a little piece on expectations; my muses were a bereaved wife and her only son. What prompted the piece? My honest observation of the fact that matching people and expectations is a very delicate task much like looking for the right peg for the right hole. I like to think of people as the holes(they weren't designed to be moved around a lot) while expectations would be the pegs. Every reasonable sane person on earth carries pegs but it takes patience and maturity to wait for the right hole for a given peg. There are holes-in-evolution viz people becoming what we expect of them, holes that apparently come preformed(people who have learnt to fulfil the needs we express before we get to meet them).
Not to launch into an unnecessary tirade, placing the wrong peg in a hole can confuse the hole especially when he/she is yet to fully understand him/herself. And this happens very often. The mother-son muse was just an analogy in which i judged the mother guilty; Here's why: There are different needs filled by male roles in a woman's life; they include company/companionship, strength, mentorship and procreation. Some are filled by fathers, some brothers, platonic male friends/colleagues and a "special one". More often than not that special one's the male who's able to successfully fulfil or negotiate the fulfillment of these needs. This might just be why that one true love remains irreplaceable for most chicks. Placing all these expectations on an unprepared son can have one of 2 effects: It can
confuse him a short while then he bounces back or it can confuse him for a very long while; The latter being a situation whereby both parties do not broach the issue by TALKING about it. I bore you guys to death, don't I?
Anyway, today's piece looks at expectations from another perspective; It's an attempt to underscore their importance in oiling the wheels of personal progress. Pretty much a rose and thorn combination right? I say no more. Hope you enjoy reading it. And please share your opinion on the subject.


Today he lacks form;
Largely primordial in thought,
Ruled by his needs,
His mental processes shut down,
The minute they are filled.
He's got no vision
or plan or purpose
Time merges for him
The days indistinct from one another
No sense of direction
Hence no landmarks
To describe his journey thus far.


Yesterday was different though
The memory's mostly blurred now
Faded
Like a 20 year old polaroid
The details sketchy
But recognizable
Yesterday had form
And purpose
Yesterday was governed by others
And the need
To measure up
Or be left behind


Tomorrow!
The mere thought hurts now
Cos he knows he's so far behind
Catchin' up's a fool's dream.
At the end
Of his seven seasons of Idleness
He's learnt that expectations
As heavy as they might be
Are life's catalysts
whether invoked by others
Or self
They cause tiny little reactions
That add up to make the polaroid.


He picks himself up
Beats the dust from his clothes
And begins the long journey home.

Merci.

They say everyone u love
Leave their mark on you
Boy was I impressionable back then
Today I say my thanks
You were what you were
Otherwise
God knows what I'd have picked up

I'll start with you
For you were my first
Simple, shy, unaware
We wanted the same things
Please the Father and our parents
Have fun
Just be innocuous
While sticking to the values
Handed down to us

13 years down the line
Life's taken us places
We'd only imagined back then
I'm not the same shy boy
Hovering
Taking forever to hit the nail
Scheming
Hoping for the right setting
Assuming
The approach dictated the answer


But I remember him
He comes back to me
Every once in a while
Keeps me in check
This one you helped shape
Today I can be him again
Without consciously
Putting him on
Wonder how he's related
If he's me while being you.

Catharsis

My fingers get bruised and blistered
As I crawl along the floorboards
Each limb movement
Requires more energy than I have.
I inhale
And gasp for oxygen
In the very next breath.

My vision’s limited
By the gloom;
My sense of smell’s assuaged
By the stench of failure;
The eerie silence
Accentuates every sound
From my raggedy breath
To the scraping evoked
As flesh tracks on wood.

I know I’m fighting
A lost battle.
The exit’s way too far
My reserve’s more or less depleted
The acrid stench of sulphur
Reaches me
And I know
Hell’s hounds have come.

I cast a glance back
And wish I hadn’t
My heart stops
And no amount of willing
Would coax a beat out of her
Dark beasts with huge fangs
Bound toward me
Panic swaps seats with terror
And wakes up the old lady

Causing me to turn once more
Towards the shaft of light
At the other end
Giving voice to my despair
I call out to the light
And get lifted
And cleansed
And strengthened
And relocated
And reimbursed
And reinstated
I’m a king again
Only this time
I can die no more.

EXPECTATIONS!

She keeps his late nights
Mentally
Worrying when he fails to show up
Sighing when he finally does
Wearily she quietly lets him in
No drama, no argument
Budding egos are the most sensitive
Her words tonight would only fuel a fire
So she submits albeit temporarily
To his desire to be Lord and Master
She locks up and goes to bed.

He feels her pain
There’s too much of her in him
No words are needed
Not even a look or a gesture
Deep down
Despite his machismo
He’s still that 4yr old
Who only sleeps at night
Knowing he’s won her approval
The cord was cut but the connection remains
And no anaesthetic can dull
The pain it transmits.

She lets one drop on her pillow
As she pieces together
Her phrases for the breakfast chat
She has no guarantee he’ll listen
Or take heed
But she’ll fight whatever she has to
However she has to
To get to him
She whispers a fervent prayer
And gives in to the fatigue
For it takes her to another time
When Tunji still breathed.

He knows he can’t keep it from her
Any longer
But how does he tell a parent he loves
And feels responsible for
The truth?
How does he explain that her expectations
Are so heavy and confining
They have thus far defined who he is?
That he only sees himself
Through her eyes
And has no sense
Of who he really is
What he really likes
And why he does what he does
Other than that
He loves to see her smile.