Purpose is like a terrier; it sinks its teeth in you and will not let you go!
The one you called names.
But they are calling you names now too.
The one you threw under the bus
But now they are throwing you too.
The one who fought to be one with you.
Now you see it, feel it and know it.
Now you are #IamIgboToo
Yes, we’ve moved to https://www.roastcornandube.com/ and all our posts and comments moved with us.
But too many of our readers are asking that we keep the blog active and we’ve listened!
It has been a long hiatus, with ‘life’ happening.
Thankfully, writing doesn’t give up, so we’re back under a different name and a different platform.
Thank you for your patience all these ‘dry’ and silent years. We hope to see you at our new address – https://www.roastcornandube.com/ – where new things will definitely be happening!!!
See you soon, here and there!!!
Tell, if you want to tell but if you prefer to ‘show not tell’, well do that too.
Write whatever you want to write; there will be people who will read and enjoy it whether you choose to ‘tell’ or ‘show.’
Beyoncé bu mami-wata!
Not half this and half that, but all woman and all that.
She is a siren, a vixen, a sage, an amazon; Ezenwanyi all rolled in one!
She sings, she dances, she speaks in tongues of old.
Her eyes flash with fire and ignites our hearts.
Love her; hate her, venerate, despise her…she is like Mami Wata, seen once in a while but oh! What a sight!
Beyoncé, i bu nnoo mami wata!
I feel like writing
I really, really do
But sometimes, I get this block…
I wonder, do you?
My pens are screaming
My pencils too
“Let us out; set us free,
We must begin anew!”
“Too long you have left us
Too cold we’ve become
But now, we must fight back
Or to death, we’ll succumb.”
I feel like writing
I really, really do
But sometimes, the words just won’t come…
I don’t know why, do you?
It was about 6pm… a grey, wet and windy evening. The wooden gate was unlatched. It kept butting its head against its frame repeatedly. Lovely, it would have been if it was rhythmical, but it was grating on all nerves.
Everyone heard it; no one wanted to go and end it. By 6.15 pm, I had had enough. I marched down the stairs, snatched my mackintosh off the hook, grabbed the keys by the side table and jammed them into the keyhole. Of course, they didn’t all fit!
Taking a deep breath, I chose the right key and let the others hang down, shrugged on my Mac properly, put the right key back into the keyhole and turned. The wind had grown fiercer…it seized the door out of my hands. I didn’t fight back. I jumped out instead, and let the door slam shut.
With the wind howling and the gate frantic in its banging, like an animal in pain, I reached out to still the gate; give it some relief from the pain it seemed to be going through, when the beam of a set of headlights caught my hand in mid-action. There was a strange sort of spluttering and the car rolled to a stop right in front of us.
“Excuse me, is it alright if I come down here and have a look at the engine of my car? I think it’s run out of water.”
Car running out of water? Was that…? Is that…? To be honest, I don’t know much about cars so I couldn’t say if they would run out of water or not but something about that voice sounded weirdly familiar and like a woman in a trance, I held the gate open and waved ‘voice’ and car through. It rolled down the drive-way, while I finally latched the distressed gate.
“Sorry to impose upon you like this but I forgot to top up the water in the car’s radiator and I believe that’s the sound of it over heating.”
As it spoke, the figure unfolded itself from the driver’s side, legs stretching for miles. When all of it had finally made its way out of the ailing but beautiful, sleek, low-slung piece of machinery, it turned out to be a man…a tall, dark and handsome man, no cliché. Just like the car but with enough water to make knees weak.
The man stretched out another long extremity – his arm; hand extended for a shake…
“My name is Elba, Idris Elba.”
No, I didn’t faint or any such thing (wish I did though), I just woke up!
She’s waited long enough.
Patiently… for me to develop.
In the shadows, so she’ll be out of my way.
She waited for me to go where I felt I needed to go, to get what I felt I needed to get, do what I felt I needed to do.
She’s no longer content to remain in the background or shadows.
“It’s time”, she whispers gently in my ear.
Her whisper is an earthquake; it has moved the ground beneath my feet.
Nothing is the same, nothing can be the same.
It’s night-time again and sleep has fled.
Dreams have come, creeping slowly,muttering under their breath, hoping this time, that they will be chased after, caught and taken to where all dreams come true.
Not left to rot on the dying heap of their lost, forgotten comrades.
Dreams are meant to be pursued, right? This how they come true…isn’t it?
Even in my daydreams, I don’t imagine good; my fantasies end in tragedy.
When you’ve dreamt for so long for good to come and it doesn’t, daytime turns to night and dreams to daymares…