Monday, 30 July 2012
This morning, I woke up to a multitude of mosquitoes deployed from my closet containing a number of toiletries and my fake Louis Vuitton tuxedo hanging unworn for days. I arose from a nightmare which scared the living daylight outta me, but left an indelible imprint on my mind.
It seemed like a partially-constructed highway which still had some meters to completion. As usual, overloaded heavy-duty trucks from opposite directions plied the uncompleted route with blistering speeds taking zero heed to road-signs and ramps.
A middle-aged lady attempting to cross slipped whilst doing so and one oncoming truck in an immediate effort to avert a crushing impact on her deviated into the opposing lane. The drunk driver's attempt to avoid destiny rather forced her arms wipe open. To make a long story short, there was an accident resulting form a head-on collision with two fatalities and two casualties: drivers of both gone with their mates' left behind.
Amid the pandemonium, bystanders ranted about ephemeral nature of life and screamed standing atop the turquoise toppled truck. Strangely enough, the lady whose honest mistake begun this unfolding streak of events wasn't in sight. As a friend and I watched in awe, without a muscle moved, a word uttered nor a single thought mustered; the entire event turned a bright day black.
I believe this was a timely message to me and I just thought it might touch your heart to know this simple truth: life is shorter than Tyrone Bogues (shortest player ever to play in the NBA) and it should be lived for Christ, not for self.
Note: Dedicated to Late Former President John Evans Atta Mills
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
A portion of me dies every hour
Every hour when distance slowly quenches our love.
Our love fresh from an heavenly bakery's flour
Flour alloyed with colours of a dirty dove.
Take our special times into account,
and please return to your long lost honeycomb.
Mileage might have sold us out without discount,
but there's nothing as priceless as love close-to-home.
Without you I’m dead and dark as emery,
Touch me please and give me breath anew.
Your smiles and smirks tickle my faint memory,
when picnics were private beneath the marshy milieu.
Wednesday, 11 April 2012
How many times we have fallen prey to age-old trick of deception remains a very large number, probably even bigger than infinity itself. I mean if cartoons are supposed to entertain toddlers unaware of the callous world they currently inhabit, then why do they seem scared when they have nightmares? Of course, some could blame the thirteen ghosts of Scooby Doo and any other popular animation series that double in teaching us how to take to our heels when headless horsemen or ghastly-voiced undertakers suddenly emerge from nowhere.
But then there’s the Ghostbusters, who sadly cannot save the five-year old, who’s immature mind has forgotten to include them in the cast of “Ghouls Chasing Me” which airs every time countless hours are spent watching the premiere right after school. So who’s culpable - Warner Bros. or Cartoon Network? Because you see, if Scooby needs snacks to save the day, why won’t the incorrigible kid next door ask for a tip when you seriously require airtime to call the fire service? But that’s just by the way.
Everything isn’t what it seems to be. At least, that lady in glass shoes from the sovereign state has succeeded in imprinting such a lasting truth. I don’t believe in the honesty of an Eve not just because she refused to repeat the forever famous Cinderella folklore, but just because I have decided to accept this painful fact - that we are only, but the exact opposite reflection of whom we make people see us to be.
So all the “good girls” aren’t actually good are they now? You could interview Rihanna for clarity on that though.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
1. She thinks about you everyday: in addition to the many guys cramming up her inbox. To pride herself in the tons of proposals, accrued due to her bedazzling beauty or specious humility, every lady scrolls through her messages especially when she has nothing else to do.
2. You are not the one, at least not yet. Every girl yearns for a gentleman with specific qualities and different guys from diverse backgrounds seem to have bits-and-pieces of her character wishlist. As such, it becomes more than an arduous task to pick-and-choose Mr. Right from a group of Mr. Partially Rights.
3. Don't think you are special: just because you've shared her bed before. Guys might presumptuously think there's something symbolic about their sharing an item of exclusivity or close. You could be deceiving yourself by giving her the inamorata tag. The truth is, in this modern society, personal space has shrunk gradually and personal property is towing similar lines. Even the chasm between her thighs isn't as privately owned as previously was.
4. Valentine's day doesn't matter as long as you don't bring it up. Most ladies only remonstrate about your inability to get them a gift because they'd have nothing to brag about at the salon. From very unreliable studies conducted by myself and a couple of invisible accomplices, it has been discovered that the ratio of presents procured by guys to that of ladies is an outstanding value approaching infinity. The bottom line: ladies won't spend on a just any dude, but any present is accepted irrespective of the suitor.
5. Money isn't everything; but it shouldn't be lacking. Cliches will always crumble under the pressure of reality. Quite apart from the bourgeois or aristocratic type, bevies of women would admit to the depressive nature of a relationship deficient of cash. Honeymoon at the Holiday Inn which couldn't materialize might seem cost-effective in the long-term, but obviously some form of pampering should be in order no matter the amount involved. Only fiscal strength can make that possible.
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
There should be reasons why people envisage the romantic atmosphere that encapsulates V - day. Well, you heard me! And "vee" seems to echo the theme song for strong gentlemen meticulously mining some very natural, but hardly endangered resource down under - which has absolutely nothing to do with St. Valentine (prayerfully solemn with a glowing halo above my head ).
On a more serious note, the electronic media have been at the forefront of humongous blah-blah been made about condoms and chocolate - and the notion that the two make an impregnable duo in sending out that heartfelt message of love. Total overkill! Well, this cliche of an idea has driven other central necessities of affection into oblivion. Trust, compromise, and the God-factor have been sidelined to make way for chariots loaded with boxes of chocolate.
Cadbury might be working overtime in making the arduous attempt of meeting the overflowing demand, with both eligible and ineligible bachelors hailing stones of tribulation on their prized assets derived from Theobroma cacao. I just hope their factory workers don't make the honest mistake of adding too many ounces of sugar. Unknown to many, this may result in insufficient estrogen left for the mutual workout that would ensue hours after tasting the brown, probably stiff and hard chocolate. This watertight fact can be attributed to the function this sex hormone performs in ameliorating glucose metabolism and "booby" growth. So please watch the spurious consumption of unsweetened bars and rolls making the rounds today.
And don't forget, love is the light that shines from the heart....Happy Valentines!