Dumb

Dumb

I feel Dumb.
Not in the I don’t know anything kind of way,
but I the I don’t know much about anything kind of way.
I feel dumb.
In the I don’t know what to say,
So I keep my tongue at bay.

I feel dumb.
when I can’t get some jokes,
Because I process things too slow.
Or when I can’t remember your name,
Which you told me just five minutes ago.

I feel dumb.
when I give one word responses,
To a question about my day as if I didn’t live it.
I feel dumb .
when my mind can go blank ,
with not a thought running through my mind.

I feel dumb.
when I can’t speak to other people,
past niceties and asking polite questions.

I feel dumb.
so, I keep quiet so my dumb won’t show.
Keep to myself so my cover I don’t blow.

I feel dumb.
So, every time I think of something smart,
I berate myself because
I couldn’t have thought that.
What was I thinking lol!

You wanna know what I think though
I think it’s stupid to feel dumb,
when your father created the universe
That’s how I know I’m not dumb.

Radio Love

I am a Presbyterian. Born and raised as one. Now, I’m not sure I still want to be one for the rest of my life but that’s irrelevant to the story here.

As a little girl,there’s a song I loved. One that we sang in vernacular in our church and which when translated meant,’be still in the Lord’. I am pretty certain I did not understand the words at the time. I just loved it since the first time I heard it,the way you can connect so much with a person you’ve just met.

On the rare occasion that my song would come on radio, I would run to whoever was near,tell them my song was on, and sing loudly,the small part of the song I knew i.e. the chorus. Hey don’t judge. I was only around seven or so.

I think that’s where it all begun. My love for the radio.

A few years later, we had a househelp who introduced me to Rnb and soul music. I was enchanted. By the beats, the lyrics which I was old enough to hear and understand, and how such a tiny invention was able to bless us with such beautiful sounds. Honestly, God bless the person who invented the radio.

I couldn’t get out of school fast enough to go and listen to my favorite radio station and shows. Listen to angels singing. They must have been angels in my eyes then, because their voices took me to another place entirely.

I’d strain to memorize song lyrics and would dream of singing as good as they did when I grew up.It was a bit of a struggle trying to get some words because of their American or Canadian accents,so different from ours,so sometimes I’d just fill in the words I couldn’t hear with words closer to what they were saying and none was the wiser.

In school, the rare chance we got to listen to music, I was in the frontline singing the lyrics to almost all the songs. I’d take pride in the looks of awe from my classmates. They all knew I did my unofficial homework right. In a time where there was no internet, that certainly boosted my status among my peers.

Me and the radio have remained to be good buddies even now.Even though now you can access all songs you want at the tap of your phone, I’m still old school in the fact that I prefer songs being strung together randomly and not just a replay of the songs I have in my phone.

I think my love for it is not going away anytime soon. If it would still have me,even when I’m gray haired and arthritic.

Serendipity.


I was happily hibernating in the shadows of another room,when I was forced from my deep slumber by warm,rough,short masculine hands.Now that was a good feel.But what would these lovely hands want to do with something as old as me?

If I had my way, I’d tell him he had made a terrible mistake thinking I was someone else. But I couldn’t,could I?

He then picks me up,and carries me to a blue room next door and the first thing I think is, why here? I couldn’t be of any use here.

There is no visible window so the option of a curtain is crossed. Matter of fact, I’m too big. No innuendo intended. Get your mind off the gutter please. Would I be used as a carpet perhaps? This kind man wouldn’t possibly degrade me that much would he?

And then only after I’m done debating with myself, do I see a girl. She looks fairly young. Around 18 or 19.Fair skin,medium height,long beautiful legs emphasized by the shorts she’s wearing and short hair.

She smiles so broadly when her father (which is what I assume her relationship with this middle aged man is. I honestly wouldn’t want my mind or yours jumping to other conclusions so let’s assume he’s her father.Ok?),enters her room.

She is reading something from her laptop when we get in and she stops abruptly when our presence is recognized. She doesn’t look at us like we’ve intruded in fact she makes us feel welcome as if she has been expecting us all along. She’s also genuinely pleasantly surprised, seeing the father carrying a large piece of clothing in his hands. A humored glint is seen in her eyes.

I make up my mind that instant, that I already really like her. Her father, the kind man explains why he’s carrying me and she smiles so hard, it completely brightens up the room. Like when windows are opened in an abandoned house and light comes bursting in,as if the light can’t believe how long it had been since it last entered the place and it can’t hold back. Ok my analogies suck. Good thing I know it otherwise I’d be worried you think they suck.

Sorry I digressed.At my age this tends to happen more than I want.Disgusting right?I thought so.Anyway enough about me.Nothing to rock your world there. I rock hers though.That’s all that matters(insert Cheshire cat grin).

So the father wants the girl to use me as sort of a wall for privacy. Her room at five by six is quite small so once you open the door, you see exactly what she had been doing the way I figured immediately she had been reading when we came in.

I am touched by how much the father cares about the girl. They must have a really tight bond, that the father knows what the girl wants even before it has been expressed.

Sad as well,that I don’t know any of my kin. That I’m all alone in this wretched earth. Would mine be as caring for my comfort and well-being? Would we look out for each other? Would one look across the room convey as many emotions as the look the father and girl share even as they speak?

Too bad I’ll never find out huh. And then as if hit by a lightbulb moment, I suddenly don’t think logistics. Don’t think about being disturbed from my rest or about the small space in the girl’s room. All I think is that this beautiful, kindhearted and loved girl, deserves some privacy and if she achieves this by using me, then I don’t mind because I want that dazzling smile to be seen by me. Behind closed doors.

I want to spend the rest of her life discovering her. Knowing what makes her tick. What she loves. How she dresses. I know some things will disappoint me. But aren’t we all imperfect? Humans more so? Take me for instance I’m dull colored (grey, which I discover is her favorite color by the way. Not to brag or anything), wrinkled and old, yet she still chooses me every time.

It’s now been more than a year and I couldn’t be happier with my life.Thank heavens for serendipity. All things do end up working out for good. We might not be together forever, but our love will count for something.

One last time for old times sakes.

For far too long, I have craved your attention.

The gentle but firm way you held on to me as if careful not to hurt me,

The way you would enclose your fist around my handle when talking to someone,

As if invoking me for courage.

That’s why darkness, rust, mould, your absence,

They drive me almost mad.

Almost to my destruction.

Like a fat child being denied cake.

Thoughts.

Thoughts of you never needing me,

Of you forgetting about the good times we shared,

Of you, swinging me back and forth on your slightly callused hands,

Of you not caring that I was a geriatric,

That I was handed down to you by your mother.

Bless her soul.

Of you singing with your deep baritone,

As birds swarmed around to hear you belt out those lyrics,

as if you were God’s gift to them.

Of the harvest time, your favorite time of the year,

Where after a long day, you’d invite a couple of friends over to celebrate a good harvest.

These thoughts.

Memories.

They threaten to drown me.

We were great together.

You knew it.

I knew it.

Everyone knew it.

But that was then.

That was before our success made you want more.

And more did you get because now,

Now you have bigger land.

You have no need of me.

Now you have help.

You have no need of me.

I understand.

Understand circumstances have changed.

Times have changed.

Thank you for giving me the best moments of my life.

For your care when I was of use.

All I ask now,

is for a glimpse of light.

Just one last time.

That’s all I ask.

The Audition

The moment I got there I knew that it would be a miracle if I got in.I went there blindly hoping I’d find more people like me.How naïve. I should have known with the location screaming wealth in caps and bold.

A friend of mine shared a poster.Now,I normally don’t open up all media sent to groups because sometimes they are too many.

Something about this one however,made me open it.It spoke of auditions to be held where they were looking for background vocalists to go on tour with for concerts all over the country.

This was big. From the moment I saw it, I knew I was going to do it. I knew I had stage fright, knew my hands grew sweaty when I was anxious or nervous, knew I would probably get chocked as I was singing because of fear but all these weren’t going to stop me.

For once in my life, I would let go of my reservations and finally face my fears. For once, I would put myself out there. For once, I would follow my heart.

I still had to ask for my mother’s permission though. Something I didn’t want to think too much about.

Two days before the auditions is when I got the courage to ask. She said yes. Told me to choose a song and that the eve of the auditions, I should perform it before her and my siblings. Chose a Ruth B song called mixed signals and they loved it. Applauded even. Took it as a good sign but still couldn’t sleep well that night. Anxiety.

D-day arrived. I woke up a bit too early. Our school had gone on strike abruptly leaving no time to pack clothes. I had to improvise with the few I had.

What I could come up with was a coat that was about three or five years old because I never grow fat just tall so the hands were a little bit short, a baggy trouser to give off the tomboy vibe and brown shoes with white shoe laces.Topped it off with a cap I found because my hair was a mess and I hadn’t time to fix it.

When I got close to the entrance at first I thought it was the wrong place.It had to be.But lo! and behold! it was not.As I stepped closer to the queue,suddenly I felt like it had been pre-invited and I was the intruder.I was the odd one out.Oddest out.

This was not something for an oddly dressed tomboy who thought she could sing.It was for either the rich or the good looking and suddenly I wished they’d sent a memo prior stating that.It woulda saved both of us.Me mostly.But then I remembered they had no way of knowing who was coming so I had to suck it up.

Head held high,despite some judgmental looks and others of pity,I held on until my group was finally called in.Before that,I got to see Stony Jiwe,a local Christian rapper so that was nice.A silver lining at least.

We were ushered into a small room. Well furnished.Artsy.Contestants sat on chairs according to their numbers and would move forward as the next person was called in.

From here, I could see well who my competition was and hear as well. People could saaang! I started doubting myself. My heart beat wild.

This was my state until my number was called.It was too late to back out.With the little energy I had left, I got into my ‘slaughter house. ‘First impressions really matter they say and I agree completely. One of the judges looked like he didn’t like what he was seeing even before I introduced myself. I was going to prove him wrong. That I was gifted.

That was the plan anyway before fear decided now was the time to butt in. My introduction was garbage; I was all kinds of nervous. Anyone with half a brain could tell. You can guess how my performance went….

Got out of there knowing I was not going to be getting a call from them anytime soon and it was all thanks to me. For a moment,I felt down and even cried a little but when the reality of the situation dawned on me, I realized I had done something I’d never done before and that made me proud of me.

My take from this, no matter how good you are, you’ve got to practice if you’re going for a competition and also follow your heart. Things won’t always work out the way you want them to and that’s ok.Lastly,comparison is not your friend.

Jack of all trades but master of none.

Unsettled. Undecided. Unstable,
Skittering,hopping from one skill to another,
Leaving no stone unturned on matters art,
A balm,dear to my heart.
Unfortunately,it’s only left a string of messes,
Throwing my darts but always missing the marks.
Wondering if it’s even right to have all these interests,
Yet completely excelling at none.
When will I ever find my one?
The right foot to fit my glass slipper?
The cheese to my macaroni?
The right tree to build my nest up in?
The way I see it,there’s only one solution.
To keep pursuing all of my trades.
Because it’s inevitable I’ll find my match right?

The story of Michael

My name is Michael.
Life for me when young had only ever been filled with hurdles.
My folks died when I was seven.
God bless them I hope they found their heaven.
From there life took a different turn,
Being separated from my sister was only one among a sum.
Bounced from one foster home to the next I became a mess,
Turned to drugs to give me some sort of rest.
From drugs, girls came next.
I was a looker so I got any I wanted just through a text.
My target was the rich ones the ones who’ve had it easy all their lives,
In my mind, it was so unfair that they had the life I never would.
It dawned too late that I was festering my own wound.
I became sickly and was told I had AIDS.
This made me even madder because wasn’t I justified of doing the things I did?
Was life such a bitch that I couldn’t ever be happy in this world?
Did I deserve to even live?
It was just about that time that my sister came back into my life.
Took me to rehab and found me a therapist who was like the mom I never had.
Now, I’m a fully recovered former drug addict who decided to give life another turn,
All this because my sister gave me a second chance and I will forever be her fan.
I’m here to tell you that choices have consequences.
The things we go through are only temporary.
We can choose to rise above them just as my sister did. She’s now an advocate.
If you sulk at life, life will sulk back at you.
Be wise. There’s hope. Tomorrow will be better that yesterday if only you choose to believe.

Permission slips are outdated

Uptown Media

Permission
slips need to go extinct.

In my primary
school, one requirement in order to go on a school trip,was a
permission slip from your parent or guardian. It showed your parents
had consented for you to go on that trip. Was it just in my school? I
don’t know maybe ours was just weird.No. Not weird, but one of a
kind if I do say so myself.

Outside the
school setting without realizing it, permission slips are being
requested left, right and centre. Be it from friends, family or our
spouses.

This kind has
been given much importance because as small as it sounds, it
completely influences the choices most of us make.

Sound kind of
absurd?A little far fetched?Check out the examples.

Does your best
friend have to approve of the person you’re dating?Does your mother
have to agree with your career choice for you to go ahead…

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Little Heaven!😌

Uptown Media

I’m writing this in a dark room, which I otherwise wouldn’t be doing if I had my phone with me.
The absence of it has done good that far outweighs the bad if any.
My mind is racing with a million thoughts.
And then Wait!
One of them catches my attention.
An alternate universe.
A place where only laughter exists, because there’d be no cause for sorrow.
Children’s melodic voices filling the atmosphere sarturating it.
Beautiful, full flowers of all colors, blooming at different intervals,
All people, male and female, treated equally regardless of race.
Springs of crystal clear water flowing, unbounding in their freshness.
Soft music playing in the background, as leaves dance, as if to the tune, forming a beautiful duet.
No pollution, global warming or disturbing noise.
No disease or peril.
No hatred, envy or malice.
Just a gallon of love to be shared and more than…

View original post 65 more words

Unrequited love

Love is sweet as well as scalding,

Touches your heart and soul and keeps it longing.

Tell me my love why don’t you get me,

Why is it so easy for you to not share my feelings.

As the shore waits patiently for water to come meet it,

So does my heart long for your heart’s song,

To play alongside mine.

We don’t always get what we want to,

But why can’t I have even a small piece of you.

I’d do all it takes for your love’s sake,

Climb a mountain, go round the world,

It doesn’t work like that though so that leaves me cold.

I wish you knew how deep my love is,

But since you don’t share it,your loss I think😁.