Komustaka!!!

Komustaka all...my youngest daughter is teaching me Tagalog and that simply means "hello"! I've been M. I. A for ages, so first off..."Bonne Anniversaire" and a very belated "Bon Noel". I'm still suffering from a writer's block, my mind is a blank page and I'm mentally dyslexic...the words all get jumbled up, however I still read. In my Facebook in-box I came across a poem by a young man called Rudboy Adidi c/o a poetry group I'm a member of called "WORDS NOT SWORDS". Please feel free to join if you're a poet (closet and otherwise)

I won't start yapping about what the theme is or what the poem's about...read it for yourself and THINK!!!.

What If I Did?

As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me.
She was my so-called "best friend". I stared at her long, silky hair.
I wished she were mine,
but she didn't notice me like that.
And I knew it.
After class she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before, and I handed them to her.
She said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I wanted to tell her.
I wanted her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her, but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

11th Grade

The phone rang. It was her on the other end.
She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart.
She asked me to come over because she didn't want to be alone,
so I did.
As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes,
wishing she was mine.
After 2 hours, a Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to
go to sleep.
She looked at me, said "thanks,"
and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her, but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

12th Grade

The day before prom she walked to my locker.
"My date is sick," she said. He's not going to go.
Well, I didn't have a date and in 7th grade we made a promise that if neither of us had dates we would go together just as "best friends."
So we did.

Prom Night

After everything was over I was standing at her front door-step.
I stared at her.
She smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes.
I want her to be mine,
but she doesn't think of me like that,
and I know it.
Then she said, "I had the best time, thanks!"
and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her,
but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

Graduation Day

A day passed.
A week passed.
A month passed.
Before I could blink, it was graduation day.
I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma.
I wanted her to be mine,
but she didn't notice me like that,
and I knew it.
Before everyone went home,
she came to me in her smock and hat, and she cried as I hugged her.
Then, she lifted her head from my shoulder and said,
"You're my best friend, thanks!"
and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her,
but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why?

A Few Years Later

Now, I sit in the pews of the church.
She is getting married, now.
I watched her say, "I Do" and drive off to her new life,
married to another man.
I wanted her to be mine,
but she didn't see me like that,
and I knew it.
But before she drove away,
she came to me and said,
"You came!" She said, "Thanks!"
and kissed me on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her,
but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

Funeral

Years passed,
and I looked down at the coffin of the girl who used to be my best friend.
At the service they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school
years.
This is what it read:
"I stare at him wishing he were mine.
But he doesn't notice me like that,
and I know it.
I want to tell him.
I want him to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love him, but I'm just too shy,
and I don't know why.
I wish he would tell me he loved me!"

'...I wish I did too!' I thought to myself,
and I cried

By Rudboy Adidi (via WORDS OT SWORDS)

"...and I cried" So what made "YOU" cry?

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

…And the Drum Beat Plays

She dip so, she rock so, She moves her hips in slow mo.

And the drum beats play, She bend so, she sway so,

To a rhythm that all nature know so,

She moves her hips in time

To the banging bass line,

The band begins to play

Her hips begin a new sway

He sits, he watches

Her skirt rotates, a mix of technicolor swatches

The music in his ears fades into thin air

His saliva dries as he stares

Her hips rotate and undulate

The beating drum pulsates, and her hips gryrate

She dip so, she rock so, the dance floor steady pulsate

Entranced by her dance he moves to meet her

Drawn like moth to flame

Scarcely hears as she gives him her name

Fire in her eyes

Fire in his thighs

His steps fall in sync with hers

From their eyes a silent message transfers

The smell of sweat mingles with her heady perfume,

Their bodies mentally transfer to a different room.

Legs entwine, hips do grind, chest to chest

Breast to breast.

And the drum beat plays.

The scent of sex is in the air,

Fully clothed but they might as well be bare

Hungry hands explore,

Getting freaky 'pon the dance floor.

She wind so, she dip so,

She moves her hips in slow mo,

Lips lock, hands explore under cloth,

The beat, the heat as heady broth

The aroma of sex... the new perfume

Their bodies now move to a different room.

Wet, moist, fire, steam and heat,

The drum now plays a brand new beat.

They bend so, they sway so,

Dancing to a rhythm that all nature know so.

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Afternoon Delight

Oh that I might touch your lips once more,

And touch your lips with mine.
That I may feel the hardness of your kiss, the velvet moistness of your mouth as my tongue explores,
The heat of your breath mingled with mine, the tip of your tongue on my lips,
The feel of your hand sliding down my hip, your lips and your breath hot against my neck.

Oh that I might feel once more,

Your hands damp as they caress my low back, sliding over my fabric encased buttocks,
Your hands inching up my skirt, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. Your hands lifting me, my legs straddling your waist.
The moisture of your lips trailing down my neck to linger on my exposed breasts, Your hardness against my softness,
The mingling of our breaths as your lips capture mine.
The mumbled sounds of mutual passion trapped between our entwined lips.

Oh that I might feel again,

Your arms pressing against my rib cage,
My arms wrapped around your neck, as we move up and down in sync.
Your hands sliding to my hips, holding my thrashing waist in place trying pointlessly to stem the ebbing waves,
Waves that wash me, flow over me, seize me, control me, raging tropical storm, cyclone, bright light, heightened senses
The feel of your tense muscles as my finger nails bite into your skin
your mouth never leaving mine, not even to come up for air.

Oh that I might feel once more,

The fire that burns me up within, and hear the merged sounds of our cries as we reach the point of no return.
The feeling of falling through the sky, and raising to touch the stars at the same exact time.
The feel of your sweaty chest pressed against my breasts,
The echoes of our ragged breath, the weakness in my legs, the tightness in my belly.
The giddy laughter that escapes my lips between my gasps for air
The dizziness I experience from the rush of blood to the head,
The sweet content smile that plays on my lips.

Of that I might feel

The weight of your arms as we remain for a time entangled resting against the table's edge, disheveled and unashamed.
Order restored, clothes rearranged, knowing glances exchanged as we walk to the office door,
Hasty kisses and whispered promises to reconvene at work's end.
Playful smiles to end the stolen minutes.

Alas all there is, is faded imagery,
No more us, no more we, now you and she
And for me only memory of Afternoon Delight

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Of Tall Buildings and Aeroplanes

Long time no write...well not quite a true statement! I've been writing but everything is pretty much in draft form at the moment, my thought stream is like watching a video stream via YouTube with a GPRS handset on an MTN line at the moment, or sex without climax...hiatus (or coitus) interruptus. Luckily today my brain to blog download was not a victim of network errors (i.e psychosis) and system upgrades (i.e therapy and lil purple pills) we have the new P IX processor running on the motherboard a la Mode9 so we should be good for the rest of the day.

Anyways that aside, here's a piece of trivia about me totally unknown to most mere mortals, I have an acute fear of heights aka ACROPHOBIA ([ak-ruh-foh-bee-uh] noun a pathological fear of heights (alright so I'm showing off...big deal...it's my condition so I can show off it I wanna :P)). And this I tell you either cos we're all friends here or you're a stalker trailing me through my blog (whichever it is you actually take time the to encourage my psychosis by reading my demented musings aka my blog...so I guess we're cool). Yes...I can hear your expressions of shock and disbelief (:-o)(although some people are engaging in a bout of demonic and highly sarcastic laughter, right about now...yes this I also know because...I'm psychic (and I'd be doing the same too) :-))...Ms. "Leap tall buildings in a single bound" Dang is afraid of something.

As a child I learned the wisdom of confronting your fears and tried to confront my fear of heights with mixed results. My fear doesn't impact on my day-to-day life simply because I have no business in tall buildings. However on the few occasions I've had to encounter my phobia I stay well away from windows. I am most definitely not gonna be one of those millionaires (in $, Pounds (sterling) and Deutschemark) that'll be living in a penthouse suite I can assure you of that. Last time I found myself in a hotel room with a view (6th floor no less) I spent most of my time in bed (and no it isn't what you're thinking), any time I stood up I had a case of vertigo. Glass elevators on the side of shopping malls are defo out! Me? Tiny box? Up in the air? LOL...yeah right *sniggering sarcastically*...that is so gonna happen!

Here I share my first attempt to conquer my acrophobia.

• The location: the Giant Slide at the amusement park (can't remember where, but I know it wasn't too far from Manchester).
• Mission: to jump and feel no far.
• Status: Mission accomplished NOT.

Sure I climbed up the stairs to the top of this 20 + metre wonder monstrosity totally (depends on your personal point of view to suicide attempts) on reaching the zenith I would've climbed back down the stairs too if i could but alas they were designed for upward traffic only (sneaky bastards) reminding me of that song by Yazz..."The Only Way is UP!" (by the way does anyone know whatever happened to her?).
OK where was I before Yazz...I remember...I'm at the top (having made the fatal error of looking over the edge and pausing to ponder the zen wisdom of my actions) and I'm thinking to myself as I start to hyperventilate, dizziness taking over and total organ failure eminent..."this is SO...OOOO not gonna happen!" So there I am...stuck, literally rooted to the spot and saying the prayers my Sunday school teacher taught me the prior week and seeing no salvation in sight. Tears stream down silently down my cute (and if I say so myself...heroic) lil' face (Yes I was a cute little girl before I acquired all this hawtness...Thank you very much) and I'm thisclose to wetting myself (before you start the hmmm-ing and ha-ing remember I was about seven or eight years old then so I had the right to poor bladder function...cos I know some of y'all still bed-wet till now *KMT*) I've been up here for close to an hour and hunger is setting in.

What to do? Yes that is the question! So Shakespearean at such a young age...I was a baby Keats so it ain't my fault ;-). Anyway...there I am in a quandary of mammoth proportions, there is only one way out and I'd rather face the bullies at school 24/7 than jump. To the rescue...a bloody sadist!

Yes...I am saved by a wicked yobbo who just pushes me off the damn thing in their mad hurry to commit suicide. My throat tightens, my heart nearly jumps outta my mouth, I taste metal in my mouth care acid reflux, and I scream for dear life for all of the 10 seconds it takes for me to touch terra firma. Then as i stand on solid ground I have a shocking revelation...It was FUN!!! I run back up as fast as my little legs can carry me (which was remarkable fast thanks to all the years of running from bullies during break-time) and repeat the fear cycle again. This I did five more times. From thereon in it became a part of me to always try what scares me...from roller coasters, Log rides to Pirate ships (Alton Towers had my heart), I never lost my fear, but discovered that I kinda like to torture myself! That's the kicker with me and fear...I fear it but I relish the rush that comes from confronting it and dominating it...till the next time around. Masochism at its height! (pun intended)

Now the oddity about this thing with me and my fear of heights is that I...like totally...LOVVVVVVVVVVVEEE to fly! Boeings are nice and all, but I'm talking choppers and propeller planes. I like the feeling of being so high up and seeing the human ants and tonka trucks and cars below. I like seeing  (and reaching out to touch, and for this reason alone choppers are cool) not just the clouds but the infinite wonder of God's creation in a similar way to how I believe He views it from the heavens.

There is a cleansing I feel that I can't put into words that the view from above gives. I even like the turbulence. Smaller crafts (boats too) remind you of the nothingness that is Man. Any second the elements could get the best of you and you have but a few seconds to make peace with God and hope you repented quickly enough before you die a highly elitist death and discover if there truly is a life after death. Macabre I know, but if you didn't know by now that I'm scary, twisted and damaged here's some advice...gratis...STOP READING MY BLOG!!

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Me? Getting Married?...Hell No!

I've noticed that more and more young women seems to be ruling out marriage as an option. I mean totally. Not "I might not" but complete and utter, unequivocably 'never in a month of Sundays' "I will not!"...and the kicker? They're all straight (well almost). I start to ask myself what's gone wrong. Who or what is to blame for the prevailing reluctance to ride all the way to the last bus stop of relationships? Could it simply be a matter of age? There is something known as the audacity of youth, the prevalent belief of the young of age in their invincibility and seemingly demi god-like infallibility, their total faith in no-one else but self. Age and time usually cures one of that folly and when the biological clock and pressure from friends, family and society in general a mad dash ensues to find the ideal (and not so ideal) husband before the last viable egg shrivels up and the words Hot flash, night sweats, oesteoporosis, HRT and vaginal atrophy form the mainstay of your lexicon.
Is it the dearth of suitable companions? Or is it the sour taste of bitter pills swallowed that still linger? Is it the placing the weight of lofty and insurmountable expections on the shoulders of mortal men (expectations of such proportions as to render even Atlas and Hercules combined powerless and doomed to failure) the cause? Do these young women have not so SMART projections and expectations of their imagined spouse. Do they seek fantasy where commonsense should prevail?
Perhaps it is simply lack of faith in the institution of marriage! This seems like a possible answer. Considering that global statistics show that you have more odds of being a divorcee than remaining married, if you don't have the nerves of steel that favor a game of craps or roulette to which skill is not a major consideration but pure sheer dumb luck (or plain old loaded dice), you might be inclined to avoid a foray into the blood drenched battlefield called marriage a.k.a community property. Again it might not be the fear of divorce or failure but the fear of marriage itself. Our parents are to blame in part here. Our parents' or guardians' marriage is the only one we have front row seats for (asides our own...if ever) and more or less makes or breaks our conceptualization of the word marriage. We are our parents' children and they our primary handbook and road map on matters of the ways of the world. Even as we age and mature and break the bounds of parental influence, our actions and decisions are based consciously and unconsciously, directly and indirectly on our level of disdain for our parentage. We either act to be...or be nothing like our parents. That said the quality of the marriages you are privy to information about taint or color your notions on the prospect. Again our culture and its unspoken endorsement of male infidelity does not prevail upon women to be bound so tightly to men, seeing as he has a virtual carte blanche to be of mischievous intent.
But again really what is the need for marriage? Isn't marriage really the deciding of two people to be emotionally connected and showin the world the strength of their conviction in each other? So why the ceremony? Isn't cohabiting much the same thing? Two people deciding to couple their lives and their assets without fanfare? At least abroad I know that cohabiting partners have certain legal protections similar to those enjoyed by legally married partners, and common law espousal is recognized. Is it wrong to seek commitment but not the attendent jewelry? Or is it a case of eating one's cake and still trying to have it?
Or are the only cards in the deck really just marriage or eternal bachelor(ette)?
Please take note that these are mere musings on my part, the musings of a much demented and jaded mind no doubt, that still hasn't made up it's mind on acquiring a Mrs. status, but I'd like to know your take on this muse.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna