“My God, what is a heart?

That you should it eye and woo

Powering upon it with all your heart

Leaving nothing to chance with it

Launching your chariots and your riders

All your ships have left the bay

And you have marched out all your infantry

Leaving your cities defenseless

All for its sake

As if you have nothing else to do.”


“O living flame of love…

How gently and how lovingly

You awake in my bosom

Where alone you secretly dwell

And in your sweet breathing

Full of grace and glory

How tenderly you fill me with love.”


I have developed a liking for the word benign. I don’t know where it came from, it just popped in my head a moment ago. So I have decided to give it audience, who knows, it may have some good things to offer.



Really has a nice ring to it. It also leaves a funny itch in your jaw muscles. The more you say it, the tinglier your mouth feels. I don’t care what you think, this is fun. It is in fact, tantalizing.

It is not a word that you are assured to encounter in everyday conversations. It is not your ordinary Joe like pants or bootleg. It is the kind of word that each time you encounter, it’s an event. You have to dress up and ensure that your make up is just right. Before you appear before him, you have to go on a three day cleansing ritual where you repent of every snide and sarcastic remark you ever made concerning his height or the slight bulge of his stomach. You have to beg for forgiveness for that day when, under the influence of free yet detestably under matured ale, you likened his belly to that of your pregnant sister.

You need to consecrate yourself lest ‘All great and mighty’ Benign spot you from afar and banish you from his presence and you get deprived of that awe inspiring aura; an aura many will liken to a controlled substance or a decommissioned drug that can possibly lead you to experience hallucinations and apparent paranormal spiritual encounters.

You will become malnourished, as though your life has lost meaning. The very essence of your existence will get destabilized and your life will fizzle down to a menial state. You will stop living and start existing. Not to mention the stigma that will follow your oh-so-humiliating experience. You will always be known as the guy who was banished by Supreme Lord Emperor Benign. You will then become an outcast and live in isolation.

Grandparents will use you as an example to their grand kids on using too much make-up or choosing the wrong shade of lipstick. They will warn their sons about using the wrong cologne or trying to pull off Neymar’s hairdo yet your head looks like a defaced overripe avocado. You will become the main subject of a unit taught in beauty school; an example of the brutality of the state in government school. Parents will beg their children not to become like you and outlaw factions will use you as a cause to rally people against the ‘oppressive’ rule of Benign.

You don’t want to be that guy.

By now I have consulted my dictionary on the meaning of the word. Benign connotes a kind and gentle individual. I’ll be honest and say that I am a bit let down. The meaning is so anti-climactic to where this story was headed. But I refuse to let my imagination be limited. So let’s create a new one.

In light of recent revelations, Benign now sounds to me like a bespectacled, middle aged gentleman who probably teaches literature in high school. His favorite color is probably brown and he always wears a sweater top over all his outfits. He is not boring but given the option of hanging out with him, you would probably choose anything else. He is possibly married to a lady called Mary-Kate or Wendy. In fact, he sounds more like a Wendy marrying kind of guy. She has brown hair and coffee colored eyes. They don’t have children but both have a weakness for toddlers. He probably helps his wife cook and wipes the dishes after she has washed them.

They seemingly live in a semi-suburb bungalow and grow flowers in their front yard. He is allergic to flowers but since his Wendy can’t get enough of them, he puts up with the sneezing and anti-histamine pills. They sound like a couple who have a lot of cats and have given them preposterous names like Marigold and Mr. Fletcher.

He is a good husband and would have probably been a good father. He has never played sports and usually avoids conflict as much as he can. He goes home every evening to basic cable TV, roasted chicken dinner with a side of French beans and carrots. He probably coaches the glee club and offers to be a substitute when one of the teachers goes on leave or to a hiking trip.

He will live a regular life with people all having the same regular comments about him. He’ll probably retire to a farm house in the countryside and grow corn and make jam. He will not have a drinking problem and drugs won’t be his cup of tea.  He will live a normal peaceful life and possibly die in his early 70s from cancer or diabetes (from all that jam). He will be buried either on his farm or the local cemetery.

This is my impression of what Benign would be like if he were a man and lived up to his definition.Or he could decide to go off script and become a pompous arrogant dictator who shot rebels out of a canon just for fun…you know, the possibilities are endless.

Class dismissed.♠

A Beautiful Mess…

You’ve got the best of both words; you’re the kind of girl that can take down a man and lift him back up again. You possess within you the power to launch a thousand ships; to make nations declare war on each other and make soldiers lay down their lives just at the mere hope of getting you back. You have it all…all that and a bag of cheese puffs.

Anybody looking at you would be instantly taken away. It is as though your presence has the remedy for every disorder. Canaries play a musical classic from the vibrations of your cords when you open your mouth and rainbows trace where your soles have trodden. I mean, I would follow you to the ends of the earth, jump off a cliff and drink molten petroleum jelly just at the possibility of sharing the same breathing space as you.

But you don’t see this. It kind of hurts when the kind of words you say turns themselves into blades that pierce deep into the heart. You are just the perfect contradiction. You are strong but are needy; you are humble but you’re greedy and based on your body language, silent curses I have been reading. Your style is quite selective though your mind is rather reckless. What a beautiful mess you are; like picking up trash in a summer dress.

Although you are biased, I love your advice. Your comebacks are quick and this probably has to do with your insecurities. You have wounds and scars that you have secured deep in your heart, away from the revealing light of day. They continue to cause you pain and anguish, more and more everyday, but you are hesitant to pull them out; fearing that it would be too painful and the sight be too ghastly. That and they may cause you to bleed out. So you hide yourself behind a pseudo identity; adjusting as it fits, so that no one will ever get to discover who you truly are lest they run off and abandon you. Yet you want to belong; you want to matter and for your presence to be significant and irreplaceable. You don’t want a car, a dog or worse, a video game to take your place. So you try all that will give you the affirmation that you crave for.

But I love you still; more with every quest of the moon across the night sky. For with every jealous rage and deafening scream, I still hold you close and stroke your hair when you are sad; with every knife throw and hot iron box inflicted wound, I still make you bread crumb coated chicken wings on Friday and pudding pie on Sunday because I know you love it. Staying with you may shorten my life via involuntary manslaughter but leaving you will end it via a broken heart. You are what gives my life significance and I would rather stay with you and die than leave and claw through my remaining days (which will probably be cut short by a needle)

For guess what? I am just as broken and messed up as you are, and I would rather be the Joker with you as my Harley Quinn than to be Bruce Wayne and want to jump out of a window, slitting my throat on the way down. You may be a mess, but you are my mess; my beautiful mess.

The Sacred Romance…

My soul has been, and still is, searching for something; something elusive; something that deems unattainable. It has been crying desperately for this…this thing that I cannot name; neither can I describe. I just know it’s an IT…an IT that keeps me up at night when I should be asleep and that drives me to dream when I should be awake. An IT that claws at the door of my heart, frantically raising it arms in the air, wanting my attention. I search for it, yet at the same time try to shun it.

I have tried to ignore it, I have rationalized it, I have seared my conscience and numbed my heart all in a bid to silence it. I have indulged in what I know I should not and have embraced that which I know I don’t believe in just so this voice would shut up. I fall asleep with my headphones on just so the loud music can drown out its voice. It wants me…it is calling to me; it will not let me be.

Everywhere I go, I see it: in the beauty in my wife’s eyes; in the quiet intimate whisper of our unborn baby; in the clear blue sky and the constellations that garnish the night; I hear it in Adele’s ballads and 2 Chainz’s bars. I see it in every swing of Thor’s hammer and with every snide remark that escapes Samuel L. Jackson’s lips. I feel it in the rush of the wind as I walk to work and in the aroma emanating from my favorite dish as it is placed before me. It is in the chirping of birds as I walk through the park on a Saturday afternoon and the feeling I get when Manchester United wins a crucial match. It is like a whisper from the Universe; a cry from mama nature herself, calling me to a journey of the heart. A journey full of intimacy, adventure and beauty, like a fairytale, complete with its fair share of more than a little danger; to an experience of exhilaration.

Deep down, I know I want it…more than anything in this lifetime. I feel like it is what will guarantee me peace; it is what will charge me up to face every new day and will encourage me to hold on to every promise that God has ever made me. But I’m just too broken to pursue it. I am too afraid to step out and the uncertainty scares me. My heart is too fortified to even think about letting it in. I vowed to myself, in fact swore, that I would never make myself vulnerable like that again. Too many have trampled upon my heart and even more have tried it on and shoved it aside. Yet my heart will not stop weeping, whimpering in the silence of night, longing for this experience. Afraid that if it passes it by, it would have forever lost something that can never be salvaged.

So, we continue to fight, I fight by day and my heart lays siege by night. It fills my sleep with dreams that I cannot fathom and is slowly taking away all that I hold dear. Food is losing taste; I am losing the ear for good music and it has put a stop to the flow of ideas for me to pen. I am miserable; dragging by everyday, spending time but gaining nothing from it. I walk through as though in a trance, not really knowing which direction I am headed. I am like a ship without a sail, I know not where I am going, I just know that I am in motion; being pushed and pulled, tossed and turned, rising and falling. All in a bid to get me to go for that which I truly long for…The Sacred Romance.

It Started With a Wink…

It started with a wink

The followed the whisper

The coarse rustling of your lips on my lobe

The crackling of your cords as you seduced my heart.

Sweeter than nectar and honey suckle; stronger than Samson’s will

Intriguing to the senses and appealing to the eyes.


I am drawn to you and I don’t know why

Your lips have wrapped a cord around my feet; pulling me with every word

The more you speak; the more encaged I become.


I want it, no, I need it

My every morsel screams for it

My sanity demands it

Dangling on the brink of insanity.


I have made up my mind, I am having it

I will hold myself back no longer

My life needs, in fact, deserves some excitement

Too many passes have passed me by

Who knows, maybe this is my chance at real and lasting happiness.


I step up to the plate and clear my throat. (This is it…no turning back. It is now or never; destiny awaits) I open my mouth and utter the words that promise me liberty:

“I’ll have the family special combo of 6 chicken wings, a double decker burger and large pizza, with extra fries and onion rings. Extra cheese on the pizza, the wings extra spicy and be liberal with the barbecue sauce. Thank you.”

A Post About Me…

I have a quest, an adventure: more like a desire;

A wanting;

To be somebody, to create an insurmountable effect;

To make a statement;

To escape the clutches of normalcy; the curse of a mundane, arbitrary existence;

To carve out a niche; to create an identity.


I have a longing;

To trudge the road that leads to destiny;

To mingle with greatness;

And dine with success.


I am tired of this hunger;

Of the scratching and gnawing;

Of the cry that echoes deep within;

A deep seated fire that will not be quenched;

That accepts nothing short of extraordinary;

A desperation that no pep talk can quell.


I hear the voice of destiny;

I am enticed by the seduction of purpose;

By the wine that flows from her lips;

And the honey that stems from her breast;

I dream of her by day;

And desire to sleep in her bosom by night;


I am coming;

I am on my way;

Oh great enchantress;

Your divination has slain me;

And your spell has ensnared my heart;

Stand in awe and watch in marvel;

As I slay the dragon.


I am particularly intrigued by art. It’s a fancy that I have developed in the recent years of my life. I see art in literally everything: from a piece of writing to wind crafted contours in the sand. I see art in speaking and in drawing; in the birds of the air to the creatures of the see. I see it in colors and shades; in light and in darkness; in the gigantic and in the minute; in banter and in pin-drop silence. I am gifted with a proverbial antenna and an eye for art, and each passing day, I get to experience these diverse and awe-inspiring expressions crafted, carved, stroked and carved upon this canvas that we call life.

I have been quoted saying that life is, in essence, art. The modes of expression may be different and the jargon and dialects may vary but if you look closely, to the soul and skeleton of it, you will find that they are all saying the same thing. All that is needed of you is that you open your eyes and see.

d29398e1d052ec5554f7da2d5cba3c96One of the greatest tragedies is having life but not living. It is a sad sad reality that many people are merely existing; scrapping by day by day oblivious of who or where they are. We spend too much time worrying and being preoccupied by our obligations, responsibilities and what we have no control over that we fail to recognize the very important and fundamental fact; above all else, WE ARE…

I believe that is why art exists, to remind us of the beauty behind the madness; of the peace that exists amidst the chaos and the love that can be found at the base of every remark of hatred. Think about it, life without artistic expressions would be unbearable. I mean, it would suck. Not just suck, but sucky suck suck. It would be like staring at static on your television set; tasteless, annoying and a downright bog.

Funnily enough, in my younger years, I could not care less and neither was I good at art. I concluded that art was for lazy people who, unlike me, were not good at books. If only I knew what nature had in store for me, I would have bridled my tongue and kept it from uttering such profanity. For right now I am plagued by my vision and knack for spotting creativity. It ambushes me when I least expect it and forces itself onto me. In truth, there is no such thing as too much art and I take in as much as I can everyday as though it were my last.




I love it!


I love all of it and I don’t see myself being cured any time soon. I just love how it brightens my day and colors my soul. It makes me enjoy living even when I have nothing to be rejoicing about. I see it as a reflection of the beauty that is hidden in these earthen vessels; the glory that exudes every being and characterizes everything we see and touch. It causes all things to make sense and gets you interested at the prospect of facing another day.

It is all just, in a nutshell, breathtaking…


Bank Robber

Howdy ho bank robber!

I see you there with your flashy tie and pinstriped suit

Trying to fool us, like we don’t have a clue

You come for the money, yes the one in the other room

You don’t want us to move

You know this is true

For in the even that we do

This place will turn into a zoo

From one end a roar and to the other, a boo

It will be like the Stig has come through

Vroom vroom brother, vroom vroom


*Jay Z laugh*

Come here bank robber, lemme take a peek

At that gun lying in your creek

Not that creek, you little creep

It’s a metaphor dude, chill

I have a proposal for you

Not the marriage kind of proposal, a different kind

How about you walk away, disappear into the wind

And I’ll do you a solid, you know, I’ll keep my sling

I won’t snitch and I won’t blab

My mouth will be a concrete slab


I’m glad that’s over

I almost shit myself, albeit covert

It seems that no one has a clue

Of the stink that was about to fill the room

I’m so glad this bank robber tale isn’t true

I almost got taken for a fool.

The tea girl has come through

Thank God, it is after noon.


Dear Ol’ Darkness

So it’s a particularly regular Monday evening. I am sitting on the recliner in my study listening to the ‘Blurryface’ album by 21 Pilots. It is dark all around. Lights off and thoughts off. I am in one of those modes that many have sought to grasp and yet many more have failed to understand. Well, for someone like me, it is actually highly recommended for my sanity and the safety of everyone around. It is actually very therapeutic as it helps to think clearly; analyzing and classifying thoughts and intents either for storage or incineration. In layman terms I am putting things into perspective.

It was all going great until my mind got enticed in this particular direction. My fingers refused to be omitted and thus put in a request to be made partisan to the moment. (I know right!! They can be so needy sometimes) After a brief moment or rummaging through my clustered table, relying mostly on touch and resulting in a broken glass and a few wet documents, a faint white light flickered from the darkness as my canvas, which for now is my phone, came on as I awaited the case my adversaries had against me.

If you ask me, I honestly like this particular atmosphere for its serenity and lack of content. My senses get a rest from having to take in and analyze everything. It is like spa day for them; they sit down, relax, chit chat and have pinacoladas. It is such times that I express my appreciation for the plain and regular nature of darkness. It has and always will be just that, darkness. No array of palettes, nothing fancy and no variations. Just the one shade of the same boring color.

He’s like that mail guy who wears the same dull trouser, shirt and tie day in day out. No color, no accessories, no fashion risk. It’s like he’s been living under a rock this whole time. He is predictable. He is safe. He is boring, but he is safe. Despite your colorful soul you stick with him because he will never break your heart. He may not be the kind of person I walk around with everyday because I have a very colorful soul and he will probably hush my buzz but he is not completely arbitrary.

I once tried to forcefully integrate him into my system. WORST MISTAKE EVER!! He is kind of an ass by the way. His snide remarks, dark humor and the pessimistic and tormenting nature of his silence were too much for the hobbits in my head. I had no option but to banish him. I tucked him in the neat little corner room of my mind and locked the door behind me as I was leaving. avidya

He is now like my shrink; I only go to him when life ain’t treating me so well. However, when my life is a fragrance filled flower field he is on the reserve bench because he has no place in the line up of my colorful and vibrant life. I come to him for a shoulder and listening ear when life has broken my heart and I need someone to cuss with who won’t judge me. For some reason I never listen when he warns me about her. Together, we always have lunch with Skylar Grey and brunch with Lana Del Rey.

He is always happy to see me and his eyes immediately light up when I honor our scheduled visits. On the days I cannot make it, he always so understands me. I mean, if he isn’t the greatest and sweetest friend ever. What would I do without him?

Therefore, I am again here in the presence of dear ol’ darkness. However, today things are different; he is not happy at all to see me. When I walked in, life literally got sucked out of the room. The signature heaviness of depression is so potent you can almost touch it. He sniffles and instantly I notice that he’s been crying.

What did I do wrong this time? Did he not like the presents I got him for his birthday?

I have apologized many times for not showing up that day despite promising that I would and also for not calling as much as I had promised to. It has been a hectic few months since he last saw me. There is this girl I met and…..well that’s for another day. Long story short, I have been busy. I love him and all but he should know that I have a life too and it does not necessarily revolve around him. (My God, such neediness)

He is not talking to me. 026a6f8b1be6cfb50bc8d8cc52f10d34

He sits facing the wall and refuses to respond to my desperate attempts at conjuring up a conversation. I even brought grained single malt whiskey and a WWE pay-per-view because he is into such things but today he is not budging. Apparently it’s the same thing I brought the last time after going silent on him for several months.

“I should really be more thoughtful about my gestures of penance”, I think to myself. It is a really tough crowd here.

The warden (reality) comes in and says that visiting hours are over. I am sad but there is only so much I can do. I put the whiskey and DVD on the table and head for the door. I pause, look back hoping for even the slightest change of heart but he has not moved. He still sits there with his back to me, staring into oblivion. I promise to visit soon, tip the warden to keep an eye on him and walk away. All the while racking my brain about what it is that could be wrong with dear ol’ darkness…

My Desire…

We need to go back to the beginning when everything was still black and white. Back before we allowed circumstances and opinions to blur our clear cut sides. Let’s go back to the joy of simply being around one another; no expectations, no predetermined or ulterior motives; just me, you and the world at our disposal.

Let’s go back to when the phrase ‘I love you’ came from a sincere place. When it was not a means to an end or a door to getting what we want. To the days when we valued outdoors more than indoors; the fresh air, the scent of flowers, the orange sun and the wind blowing in our hair.

c919ef111dfb5999ef429af3bbe44788Let’s go back to the days of that naïve 18-year old teenage kind of love; to the days when sitting up the whole night talking to you was the highlight of my day, not how many orgasms I gave you. To when going for simple picnics, sharing a plate of fries, going sight seeing or window shopping at the mall was what we called an ideal Saturday plot; simple, romantic, meaningful and from the heart.

Let’s go back to when ingenuity was not only expressed in the bedroom but also in the little things that I did to sweep you off your feet: like saving up the whole week to buy that cheap necklace as a sign of my love or, cleaning the compound for the whole week so as to get money for you to go see that movie you were so crazy about. Simple things just to show you how special and amazing you are; things to make you feel loved and appreciated. To show you that it is not just your body that I crave, but the entire of your mind, body and soul.

I desire for us to get back to when communication was as simple as a toddler writing with crayons; what you see is what you get. No reading between the lines, no searching for a deeper or hidden meaning; when what I said is what I meant. Before linguistics, a degree in literature, Justin Bieber (What do you mean?) and Cosmopolitan magazine altered our perception of words.

Let’s go back to when I wasn’t so analytical of you; to when I saw the best in you; to when I believed that only the best could come out of you because you are the very best; to when I only anticipated good from you. For I have allowed my skepticism and my lack of faith in the world to shift to you, my love. All I do now is look out for what you do wrong so that I can jump in and put you down; feeding my ego by seeming wiser than you in that respect when truth is, it is just a ruse I purport to not face my own imperfections and defects.

I want us to go back to when I was brave enough to face my own fears; and brave enough to entrust you with them. When I could open up to you about anything and was not afraid of you judging me, or your perception of me changing when I told you that I struggle with things too. I struggle with depression and feelings of low self worth; I struggle with my flesh and I am greatly battling lust. I struggle with the voices in my head who strive to make me believe that nothing will ever change and this rut is ours in all permanence. I want this mask that I have erected to fall off, so that you see me for who I really am…a wounded man.

Above all, I want us to go back to when it was just me and you; when no one else was a factor. When the most important aspect of my day was when I got to see and talk to you. When many of the variables that are now present did not affect us like they do and when all the things that that bug me right now did not as much. Just us on the inside and everyone else on the outside.

Let’s go back to when it was simple.

This, is my desire…