Rivalry- a poem of taste

Image result for kissing evil abstract in black and white

Picture gotten from- Pinterest

Have you consoled your embroidery?

your interwoven sleeves carved from healing smites?

Mother of souls.

Mother of colds with cursed sores.

You remind me of moon tales,

skipping bad omens for good fortune.

 

Oh buttercup!

Save these little fingers for one itch.

Bring men that think like goldsmiths,

black and beaten, chosen by water.

We can twist the tongue in spirals,

our food still wouldn’t know it’s born yet.

 

Let me tell you about noise-

Early mornings are for early mournings.

I’ve heard women say this

“visit me in places that make me scream”

another way to lure gardens to a shore.

…breathing heavily in silence.

 

I am

a taste of my own sin,

a dying flesh with wages sold as the moon rises.

I am

an in-betweener of stolen air,

in rivalry with my own mouth.

 

 

 

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

 

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The perfect kind of lie

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Picture gotten from- AJGIEL

It’s not the same old. It’s not the differences in passing time either. It’s the new ways I’ve learned to listen, hold hands, rejoice and share. I’m a bit swollen from it all.

My head yearns for more. The drive pushes me every morning to be productive, to not call it a day until I play my favourite songs whilst doing something tangible. I can’t describe how fast these days go by, how they tend to be so full of nothing that really matters, how some of it can be so selfish and lonely. In gaining more, I’ve lost a lot more, forgetting often that people can only bear what they can for a certain time. I’ve thought about others as well, how quick these people have grown, how far they’ve come. It’s mostly unthinkable yet very impressive.

Everyone has got nights they choose to sleep their worries till morning or drink it all away, “party it out” or just sit and think about them. I wish I was just like everyone, at least what aches would be much easier to bear.

My truth is living what I’m happy for. Watching the people around me and far as well growing at their own pace. My truth is learning from others, learning these new ways to write, learning new ways in all and new survival instincts too. It’s self-distrusting but I hold unto myself most times unshakingly. It’s very pleasing in the end.

It will be the perfect kind of lie if I told you my strings were intact or that everyone enjoys my kind of rhythm. I wouldn’t be telling the truth either about my fingers, what they type to ex-friends and those who pretend to care. Sometimes, I want to scream at people who find their route back in Malanda’s words “I’ll tell you what I’ve been and it will scare you!!”. Sometimes I wish I knew how to perfectly play the savage role.

It can be frustrating not knowing who to run to, to dump all the noises in my head or whose shoulders to cry on when I lose my breathing to tears. I demand for myself every time moments like these occur, I become my own comforter. I most times ponder on how other girls just like me get through. It can be daunting. I forgive myself everytime it hits me that my happiness is in openness, it’s in little things, it’s in where I can connect tiny dots without role play, it’s where I’m not by myself.

How can life be this meaningful with so many complicated ways of passing and reading meaning into it?

How can these people lie about coping with meaningful connections without breaking a little?

Talking.

 

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

 

Frightening the challenges that come with tomorrow

For Millennials-

 

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Picture gotten from-Camilleabrown

We will all grow to a point where we learn not to lie against ourselves, where we will all outgrow our humble beginnings. We will reach a point of satiety in our lives one way or the other, where we fear less about what we used to hesitate to question. Growing out of reach and building with both whole and broken pieces.

As we grow (not age), the descendants of unclarity begin to die out. Purpose becomes priority and questions you find yourself often asking begin to get answered by your motives, time input and resources available to you. Sometimes the cost will be tied to falling out with certain herds, sometimes the cost may fall to alone times you spend reflecting and sometimes it may even cost you losing yourself in the process. How you make your journey and the most you make out of it depends on your plans, ties and decisions. Being tenacious may become somewhat necessary in times openness is as well. The thirst for pride, ego and attention will kick in every now and then. You trust less, you create more and you begin to despise healthy criticism, which is all human nature.

However, curbing and managing attributes that are distasteful to your growing process allows for maximum control of your potential. It puts you in a place where you regard everyone as equal, a place where you can welcome respect as you give it.

You are in charge of your life. You are the key to every problem you are facing even if those problems are triggered and caused by people. The moment you realize how important you are to your own journey, the more time you invest in your growth allowing others identify with and fall into your space (the right people of course). No matter how many promises you’ve made for tomorrow, tomorrow doesn’t know that. Tomorrow promises nothing and at the same time allows you make it everything you can with its sweet and bitter nature. Tomorrow allows and warns you to prepare and that’s why working on self is crucial.

Think about it like this, if all conditions are met with you (i.e you’ve grown ready for tomorrow), the challenges that come with tomorrow wouldn’t frighten you even if it may break or make you.

Learn to invest your energy in positive attributes necessary to withstand the tomorrow you don’t know.

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Clingy girl problems: 5 main problems

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Picture gotten from-Pinterest

Clingy girls often wonder how girls that spend weeks and months away from their men survive. Other times they question why some girls that claim to be in love are so attached to privacy. How these other girls don’t talk about their men to their friends or even family, they ponder on what a few girls view as normal.

I was once a clingy girl, I bought into the idea that one has to think about their man like he were their favourite food, that every single time kind of thinking. It was more like craving someone when they aren’t there and even more when they are present. Being clingy made me less gullible to and very repellent of other men. It made me believe in soul mates. It made me believe in being in love.

Transiting from clinginess however, taught me one or two things about myself, it helped me understand men and at the same time understand the importance of space in any given relationship.

Here’s a list of problems you may find with a clingy girl;

  1. A girl who is clingy may befriend everything of yours ranging from what you love doing to what you find unbearable. She may want to be friends with all your friends and family members. She may want to be involved in your hobbies as well.
  2. A clingy girl is very inquisitive. She’d like to know what, why, when, how and where you get involved with things. This may not necessarily be in a bad way but most times it is her own way of caring and looking out for you.
  3. She may be impossibly into you and may seldom feel a bit left out when you prioritize something you enjoy doing or other people you enjoy hanging out with over her.
  4. If you’re in it with a clingy girl you may eventually realize how gradually your lives begin to intertwine. Your daily routine may begin to revolve around hers as she may eat deeply into yours with time. You both will have five or more things only you both are peculiar with (may be a phrase, code, people, places or even slangs).
  5. A clingy girl finds it okay to invade your privacy (as in her head, what’s yours is hers).

Most men may find these problems as no problem in the start of a relationship however, most are often worn out after they realize that their girl may not necessarily stop being herself. Although clingy girls are hardly talked out of their relationships and are mostly trustworthy and open minded, they may on the long run become toxic to their men. This toxicity may be caused by the accumulation of lies and unnecessary fights brewed by their men in order to have their own space and avoid being suffocated.

Some clingy girls repel their men in future and may often push them to derive excitement from staying clear from them which may not necessarily happen with the intention to hurt them.

Being clingy is one good way to stay in love but it is also important to enjoy your own space and build in it when in a relationship.

Have you ever been a clingy girl? or do you think you currently can relate to some of these problems? Is your girl clingy? I’d love to know what you’re thinking in the comment section dear reader. I’d love you to add to the list as well if you are aware of any more problems. Thank you.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Daddy issues

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Picture gotten from-Pinterest

There are three main things self-reflection may teach a patient mind: self-discipline, acceptance/openness and self-control. There are many ways people may choose to reflect which may either be loud or to the heart.

We are greater than the things we say for ourselves. We restrict our abilities to only what our eyes may have encountered and not fully with our minds and brains. We neglect the paths our hearts may create for us in thoughts of it being fragile and so delicate, forgetting that what’s broken may still be broken again in order for it to mend.

Submission

I’m very aware of reasons why feminists fight to be heard. I don’t blame extreme sexists that pull major chords as I’m intertwined in being non-feminist and sexist at the same time. I break a little when I watch things not add up with submission, when women are ridiculed about their softness. I’ve watched mum for years, I’ve seen loyalty, I’ve questioned her love.  “How can a woman, so powerful, so filled with knowledge be this?” I’ve seen other women too. I’ve watched myself try to grow out of it but it’s a born ritual. It’s my own way of welcoming peace. It’s my only power over the other.

Trust

We can totally be honest with each other but lack this. We can hold hands, laugh, talk about the children and eat in good silence when we are certain about our distrust for each other. Evenings made me believe that the sun may rise at sunset. My sister and I would read conversations with words very familiar with love written by unfamiliar people. We would both lay under blankets and brew gossips about these evenings. We were soul sisters. We grew to hate what men that looked like this do. We still talk about it, we still cry a little over what we’ve known. It’s almost like disappearing from what seems to mean good because we weren’t shown how goodness can be trusted when it’s felt. It’s not normal to be thought of  that way by another, I think every now and then.

I wish I have someone to blame everytime I choose to run with my eyes. I hope everyday for the day I was first heart broken by my eyes to be erased from my head. I don’t want to be reminded of being broken in a place that I should run to when I’m broken. I hate to talk about home to people that don’t feel like home, I don’t hate to run from home because of my eyes and the crotches it walks with when there. I hate the thought that the first man that warmed my hands when I came into this cold world stalls me from breathing into a certain type of peace I crave.

Daddy issues.

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017

Sedative sentiments

Image result for black man and woman holding hands

Picture gotten from-Jannaleadams

Let’s awaken the grieve of Joy,

the little laughs with babies, foe and your toy.

We can be generous with words,

writing with rhymes against all odds.

 

Here’s my token of wealth,

here’s love, happiness and my skin the way it’s felt.

Could I wander in your tones of delight?

your selfish looks and chin that will drop in my plight?

 

I want us to write in this kind of poems,

send love and hopefully one day, we make them under these elms.

We are both heavy with choice, the one to receive, the one to send.

I don’t want this fate, this rush nor this blush to end.

 

We will chase these little ones soon,

in cloudy, rainy and sunny days and bloom.

We will hold hands with peace, with soul and a dance.

I wish these all, in words would be our chance.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017

As a black girl, living in Brighton, England

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Picture gotten from-Proud Brighton

A lot of black people I’ve been privileged to converse with are skeptical about having to move to or study in Brighton. The popular buzz of Brighton being known as a major gay city also tends to affirm their dislike for this beautiful town.

I moved to Brighton September 2014 with the sole purpose of studying and not paying much attention to the city as I wasn’t an outing type of person before arriving. I was enticed by the beach and the pebbles by the sea front during an open day visit in my foundation year which was supported by EF, Oxford (the foundation institution I had attended). The differences I had picked up with the culture, style and people compared to Oxford’s made me choose the University of Brighton instead of Oxford Brookes which had offered me an admission prior.

Firstly, I haven’t come across as many gay people as I had predicted on coming down here. Even during the gay pride festival that is usually hosted here on a yearly basis, I rarely see gay couples or find a group of gay people sitting, walking or chilling. It’s probably just me who isn’t looking hard enough. To clarify, having gay people in this city actually in my own opinion makes it more accepting and tolerable compared to other small and vibrant towns in England.

Secondly, as a black girl and as one who appreciates her cultural background and race, it wasn’t a problem building a community of friends that share the same interests as me. As there are two universities in Brighton, University of Brighton and University of Sussex, this city is filled with both home and abroad students and therefore finding where you may belong isn’t a problem. There are clubs and communities open for all kinds of people and interests within and outside the schools’ premises. This is to say that every year, the population of blacks admitted into both universities are always significantly higher than the previous year so, don’t panic if you’re worried about this factor.

Thirdly, I’m quite a foodie and quite traditional as well as I enjoy cooking my own meals. Most times going out spontaneously with my friends to small restaurants and food places at the city’s center allows me appreciate different cultures and what they eat without having to visit their countries. Brighton is diverse with a plethora of local and international restaurants representing countries from across the globe, I however have exploited this privilege as a black girl who has come from Africa. I have tasted and tried cooking most of these dishes myself, as well as recommending them to friends.

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Picture gotten from-Brighton lanes

Racism. Socio-culturally, Brighton is very diverse and as a black girl I haven’t had a reason to question my skin colour and where I’ve come from since living here. It’s so diverse and free-spirited that I have only met two guys who actually admitted to being originally born and bred in Brighton, my co-worker at a night shift and the maintenance guy for my rented place. Compared to Budapest, Hungary, I never get conscious of my surroundings and certain places I tread because of the colour of my skin or the fear of what people may be thinking. Brighton is one of the least racist towns you can ever think of in England.

Image result for black girl in brighton

Picture gotten from-Yablink

If you love greens and parks, books and rides, if you love events and dances, good night outs and games, Brighton is the place for you. This city is not anti-black or anti-any other race, It accepts, tolerates and builds with you as long as you are open.

The disadvantage however, for me is the fact that it is quite expensive to live in. Apart from that I can see myself settling and building a good life here as a black girl if I wanted to. It’s become my mini home.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

For millennials: 21

 

Journaling

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There is no warmth in waiting for the right time. The patience will sting harder than the truth you believe about holding on.

Misery becomes more appealing.

“may you be defined by your boldness in running through dry and dark cracks.”

I’d get into the bus sometimes, most times with my headphones banging loud music out its tiny speakers.

Sitting by windows is my favourite thing. My eyes get to count coloured and grey houses, watch trees and many other greens. I often begin to play rhythmic music in a lowered volume to feel the same feeling I get when watching good scenery movies. I deviate into solitude and just observe.

It is powerful.

The only regular thought I’ve known is home, it’s sometimes with me and other times I fear to think of its broken tone.

I’ve watched myself grow with strangers that I call friends. I’ve been shaken by subtle disagreements imposed by the universe in openness.

I seldom believe we are all here, just making history and not living well enough. We will all die surviving with or without purpose.

“In love, the purest of our souls’ manifest.

In love, we succumb to humility and fear without coercion.

In love, we tell our stories in ways we wish they existed.”

Can you read the signs through my saggy eye bags?

I’m knackered by pressure from my wants and the wants I’m expected to want.

I heard mum’s voice on WhatsApp call and she sounded like 50 hasn’t been good to her. I’ve been thinking of her in a sweet way lately. In a way I would spoil her with happier days if she were here.

“Be generous and kind with what you bear to instil

I’m one and a half page of an A4 gone and I’m still wasting words on consciousness. This is what it feels like to fight forces that you never chose, fighting constantly.

You will live, you will live

You will write, you will write

You will love, you will love

You will break, you will break

You will heal, you will heal

You will die again and again before you learn to live to die.

“Be offended by your zeal to live because thinking of your death will remind you of here always”

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Outgrowing the wild

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I was about cooking Jollof rice when I looked out the kitchen window to see the spectrum of bloom the weather left the sky. It reminded me of evenings in Aba (my home town in Nigeria). It reminded me of the way the weather back home tells us how much it would pour rain down. I felt dark for a minute. Six more weeks to finish university, six more weeks of trying to catch up with the reality of my second home, Brighton.

107, Brighton

I used to hate long conversations with my housemates, I used to pick times where I’d choose to hang out with them. I used to lock up in my attic room and disturb them with my late loud music and my loud laugh with uni friends but now we talk, laugh and live like it’s a ritual. We get curious with when next we get to hang out or just play random games. You can tell from our eyes that farewell day will be more like doomsday.

Journal

A lot has changed in the past three years. Things have become a little clearer, my journeying, the reality of what I need to achieve in life, most importantly what I have to give and offer. They’ve become more pragmatic than illusive. At this point in my life, I’ve learned that I’m allowed to grow especially with others who are willing to grow with me. I’ve learned courage can come from the least of things and people. I learnt that growth doesn’t need to be big to be successful. I’m also aware that I’m allowed mistakes in every step of it, I’m allowed to fall and fail because I’m human.

Pen

Writing has humbled me in ways that I can’t explain, it has changed my sense of purpose. It has redirected me to people and places that bring peace and mindfulness and it still is. The process has been bliss and I believe strongly that it’s fully been God. I’ve  had the opportunity to believe in the strength I carry with words, to pray sometimes with my pen because my mouth can be heavy to say the right words to God. If only I can write in other languages, the world will pray too.

There are many ways I’ve stripped off colours of habits that I don’t identify with, ones that won’t serve me. Many ways I’d love to do more for living and not trying so hard to live right. It’s a gradual process. It’s an investment on and for self. It’s my culture, my way of outgrowing the wild.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Nwoke’m

Do you ever listen to your own repetitive connections at 03:00 am too?

Image result for sexy black man in black and white

Picture gotten from-Pininterest

I’m starting to think imaginations are art. I’m starting to love the entangling emotions built from it. How strangely I could be fluid and solid like an umelted candle at the same time. I’m starting to feel all the same.

Yesterday, I thought. The day before I did too and many days and months before then again, I’ve been thinking. How would someone like you meet me? Would it be spontaneous, would be soft or angry? Would it be in a crowded room or when I’m by myself. That’s the scary part of thinking. I don’t want to be ready. I want to be with myself in full, in love, vulnerable and loud. I want us to meet unforced just like the universe has been with me lately. No mind games, no holding back. I like the modern approach, the evolution of it all. Descriptive dialogues and unending gist of our taste in music, books, movies and other people, what we worry about when it gets dark. Tell me where else you would be when you’re not with me.

Nwoke’m

When you’re here, your past is. The darkness of it won’t scare my love, I pray. The time you choose to be weak, I’ll be strong, I pray. The time you’d change, I’d learn to adapt, I pray. These are not my affirmations, they are hopefully who I’ll grow to be for me and for you until that “someday”. I believe our feet have come across same footpaths more than twice, I believe time is keeping you for magic. You are a future to wait for.

Keep yourself for me.

Nwoke’m (Igbo translation for “my man”)

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.