Skip to main content

IN MY FEELINGS

It is exactly 18 minutes past 4  in the morning, some Gregory Isaacs playing in low tones from the background. I am guilty as charged, my mind going round in circles, I would like to blame it on the alcohol but that's not how things are done. I would like to put blames on many things but that will only make me some lame duck.

You see young girl, the only reason I am up in the wee hours is only because for the first time in a long time both my mind and heart are in sync, they both have given my eyes a thumbs up for a work well done. Picking the best of flowers is never as easy as it tends to seem.

It is exactly 0426 hours, words flowing from my brain,finding way to my keyboard and my duvet plays the role of ensuring that no words are lost because of the freezing cold and noisy crickets in this part of the Rift.

You already know how am longing to make you mummy, be the Xender that shares both your happiness and worst nightmares. Be the cold vodka that makes you dance all night long. For you am longing, am longing for such beautiful moments. Not kissing in the rain, enough of that cliché, why get a cold yet we got the comfort of my house? Why stay up all night looking up to the sky counting the countless stars yet we could both grab a piece of paper and a pen and write our hearts out, then when we are done make out as we share them?

I keep asking myself, what would be the world without some beautiful poetry? Do you know all that time I never knew I was talking about you? Because in you I feel the rhyme, the alliteration and every stanza.

In fact, you are more than just poetry, you are some dope piece of art. Some soothing reggae music, more of some captivating play, more than some world class paintings and that's why I need my rehearsals everyday just to master the art of handling an art guess I got this positive artitude.

Five is almost clocking, and the roosters in this side of the town already flexing their throat muscles just to see who crows the loudest. My thoughts are fading, they too are longing for memories, my ink pen not dark anymore,looking for a plain white surface to scribble those memories on. Before I could sign out, before I could say thank you for your time let me remind you not to forget of how much of a precious gem you are and that am willing to get dusty just to see you shine bright.

© *2018*
*Daftone Benz*
*Doluh words*

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

EVERY LIGHT HAS ITS SEASON.

A constant battle exists between wanting to be real and wanting to be right. Sometimes what is real is not perceived as right, and what is right is not always real. Realness is rare. It is often hidden in authentic wrongs that, if not carefully understood, may never be seen in the light of what is right. This is why excellence can emerge from unlikely places, yet disappear before it is ever recognized. Too often, potential is judged before it is nurtured. Senior leaders should guard against micromanagement. Leadership should cultivate, not suffocate. Not every strength resembles your own, and not every path to excellence mirrors the one you took. Just because your sun brings you light does not make my moon and stars any less significant. The sun rules the day, but when night comes, it is absent. Then the moon and the stars become indispensable. Great leadership recognizes that every light has its season, and possesses the wisdom to let each one shine. The wise never dismiss the sun bec...

Artful Deception.

That morning, I stood rooted to the tiled floor with my hands on the poorly done window grills. I had been examining the structure that we called home. The Sun was lazy, casting weak monotonous rays on the ground. It had sufficiently rained the previous night and the air was still fresh.  Since my childhood, I had enjoyed the petrichor, it had a way of pumping life into my dead hopes, and couldn't wait for a few droplets of rain to hit the ground. It was a moment I always craved for. Half past seven in the morning, if not for the birds chirping so melodiously I wouldn't have travelled back to reality. "Normal is boring." I said to myself reaching for my phone that was religiously playing my favorite Bob Marley playlist. Nobody can stop reggae. The tweets that day were not as snappy as I would have wanted. Something was eating me up but still I couldn't figure it out, at least not at a time when Bob was reassuring that things would be alright. Music to me had alway...

Please Get Tired.

I write, You notice, You assume, I get disconnected And curse. " It's hard to show love to a stone" of no worth it is  making love to a marble, Shinny and elegant, Only adapting to the degree of my loving when in the same room And nothing is the same when we hug and part ways. I write You marvel Share it to friends And say "That was master class" You find it hard to read between the lines. Not born for the art, so you wont relate Our connection is relative, Like an uncle to a niece It's hi when we meet and high time when we don't. I notice You care less I get disconnected I miss her But who listens? I refuse to build a foundation on a forced connection I don't want to end up losing myself when you finally slip away like she did. Please get tired, and let me try to win her love back. I write Get tired And hope That if tomorrow ever comes with the darkness it left with, Then I would sit and wait for her to come aroun...