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

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Nwoke’m

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

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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.

Struggling out of a 2:2 this final year: my Biomedical Science tale

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I barely bore you with events of my university life on here but I know once in a while I drop one or two major ones. Going back to 2015, my first year, I had blogged about my resits (What if? #17), how awful it felt to had seen my name amongst those resitting Genetics and Statistics. How sad and unlucky my summer was. What I didn’t include was calling my parents and letting them know about the situation. The disappointment in their tone as they spoke to me whilst trying to be good parents and not make me feel worse about the whole situation, the after effect of the whole conversation moved me. I guess my attitude towards everything relating to university and my course became more questionable as days, months and years went by.

Second year was heavy. As my course is a three-year course here in the UK, more pressure was mounted on me and more effort was equally demanded with the load that came with the 12 modules I had done last year. The hustle to secure a placement made it even worse but that wasn’t an excuse not to scale through. At the end of the year, I was awoken yet again by another resit which until today I have managed to  hide from my parents as I felt they would be bitter and really angry towards me if I had told them. Genetics again! At some point in time I joked about it to my friends, telling them how I’m “KINGING” in genetics resit zone. What felt terrible isn’t the fact that I had a resit, what made me break down most nights was the fact that 2:2 ends up being my portion even when I always seem to start off very well at the beginning of each semester. At some point, I just stopped asking why and accepted that university wasn’t for me. Thoughts of dropping out kicked in every now and then but the friends in my circle kept me grounded. They said my prayers with me, cried with me and most of all, they contributed to my healing and strength which led me into pursuing my final year.

It’s the 25th of February today, 22 weeks into final year and there is still no salvaging to my results so far. It hasn’t been stable and at the same time it hasn’t been the most brilliant. One half of my project and most of my course works released so far have been fluctuating with 2:1’s and 2:2’s. My first semester results came out and this time Genetics crossed the cut off point with only 7 marks and I’m most grateful to God for that miracle! the other paper sat comfortably on a 2:1 which to me is gracious. Hard-work and resilience have been with me since the school year started and to be honest with you,  it is a struggle trying to move up from a 2:2. I am 3 weeks into second semester  with 3 more course works, 4 more exams and my main project to finish. I am still with hope and so should you who is reading this thinking you’re sitting in the worst position or situation in life.

If everyone was equal, there wouldn’t be no school, no competition whatsoever and definitely no evolution but other people’s success shouldn’t stall us from ours or blind us from attaining  unmeasurable success instead it should push us.

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I did tweet this last week but it doesn’t mean I can’t do better. In fact it is not an excuse! It is the reason why I’m pushing to move on from a 2:2, proving to myself that even if it’s not for me, it is definitely not impossible!

I hope you find a grip too and go on from there dear reader. Do leave your thoughts and comments in the box below. Thank you.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Reaching

I may write for you.

I may write for parts of you that were whole when you held on to the slips.

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Picture gotten from-Academichustler1975

I could ask when last you saw green, the colour, the scent, the pure green. When? I may choose to go on and rant about the look in your eyes when you see old notes, songs you shared that you refuse to listen to now. How about the people that remind you of who you used to be? How often do you break your noise with your own silence? This is me thinking about you.

When I chose to get lost in the sight of reality, I mean when I chose to disappear yet again, I unlearned a lot gradually. I could tell you that everyday that passed induced pain, from withdrawals to set backs and back to me again yet, I still chose to stay out of sight. Did I make better friends? No, I found a better friend in me. Was I convinced about validation not from self? Yes and I’m learning to be more content and humble.

When it’s not always about you, you’d notice even the little girl that was kidnapped in another continent. When you are more present, the people you love become an investment. You feel genuine laughter choking your lungs and taking your breathe all away. Each passerby will teach you without speaking to you. Your cravings change so will people that you think revolve around you. Those who found you to be more convenient when it was for them, you won’t see anymore. The tune you dance to all of a sudden changes and everyday will begin to remind you of days you haven’t spent. Time becomes money.

There’s a fever we’ve all caught and depending on the way we choose to treat it, we’d either die from it or live with it for better. The fever that has slowly eaten up our sense of belonging, a fever that has made us a bit too sensitive pushing many of us literates to ignorance and self-destruct. We want to live a better life but we don’t know how, even when we find out ways to do so, we gamble with time. We want to be the best version of ourselves yet, we find it difficult to move on. We creep into other people’s lives to feel better about ours. This fever has forcefully made us to place conditions on every little thing we give, even the purest, love. How else are we supposed to reach when we ignore our surroundings and choose to live on deciphered codes with hideous intentions and emotions?

Have a life whilst living for others.

Would love you to share your beautiful thoughts with me dear readers. Thank you.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

Empty but still as beautiful

This is the way you found me.

The profoundness of my honesty that you broke with all the pain you left unstitched. How pure my tears were until they began to drop with grains of my mascara. The forming of the old soul in me.

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Even as broken as I was with your reciprocation of love with lies, the bitterness of rubbing it in each passing day and refusing to let my soul breathe, I still have me. Even when I gave me up for you, compromised my ‘me’ time for you, the patience of self haunted me back in a good way.

I’m still as beautiful anyway, only that presently I know where my beauty chooses to stay. Paying less attention to the world that settles with being sympathetic about the way I choose to turn up in my own space. Killing them subconsciously with my genuine pursuit of happiness and self-love. Hope you good still?

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

The magic in ‘first times’

I had an Asian friend who I had known for over a year leave me a goodbye note. On it, part of what she had written said “..it’s been a really great pleasure to have met you, my very first Negro friend”. To be totally honest with you, I had a rush of mixed feelings just reading that line. I laughed, got offended, laughed again, cried and ran out to give her a tight hug. Why? Firstly, I imagined being her only black friend out of the battalion of my kind we have in our city, Brighton. I also thought how naive she was not to know that calling me a ‘Negro’ was sort of offensive but I read that line again and laughed again “..my very first Negro friend”. At that moment it occurred to me that, I wasn’t going to see her again until fate or coincidence brings us back together. I thought of her presence for the past one year and how time loves goodbyes. I cried for a girl for the first time in my life.

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What am I insinuating?

You won’t know the feeling of magic until you experience something for the first time. It may not be like mine with someone triggering the effect, it may just be you creating and experiencing your own magic. Perhaps, the word ‘magic’ can be a bit too imaginative. Let’s call it a sensational feeling, one that renews your adrenaline. Think about the first time you had done/started something (esp. something that you love and chose to do). The feeling definitely doesn’t feel like the end of it, it doesn’t equate to the time it begins to grow weary, it’s so alive. That, sometimes is what pushes us to finish or continue, the thought of what and why we started. Sometimes the memory it leaves builds up and takes over our strength to carry through even when the initial thought is dead. The magic in ‘first times’ should be felt as often as the zeal you have for consistency.

When was the first time you decided to go for a walk, or probably read a book? When was the first time you chose to change your hair colour, take another route to work? When was the first time you gave something you cherish to the needy or leave someone random kind words? When was the first time you chose to meditate, to switch off and go offline for a while? When was the last time you told the people you cherish how much you appreciate and love them, the first time you hung out with people that are not in your class, race or even circle? These may all sound daunting or probably scary but believe me you, the feeling you get from ‘first times’ are more reviving than the consistent thing you’ve been doing your whole life.

So?

Get up! Go out! and experience your own magic! dear reader.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

Blogging series 6: Never have I ever

by Dyna Ekwueme

Image result for running away

Picture gotten from-Runningaway

WRITTEN FOR THE THINGS AND PEOPLE I LUSTED FOR

Being vulnerable about my fantasies and sexual cravings for certain kinds of profane words and touch that emits all kinds of vibrations in my writing. Never have I ever been found writing about my wants for  someone else, someone who doesn’t want me, someone who probably thinks I don’t exist. The hypnosis of my feelings, like a spree cursed by a god.

WRITTEN FOR THE THINGS I GAINED FROM PAIN 

The writer’s block I get every now and then, fleeing from my blog like I’m all about that busy life. I wouldn’t write about the long piles of unpublished posts in my draft which has me thinking “I’m not good enough for me”. The resits people don’t see but praise me for as a university girl. The pain and struggle behind it all tends to be hidden in what appears to be like “she’s doing okay” to you.

WRITTEN FOR THE PEOPLE WHO NEED THIS WRITING

With self-obsessive writing blinding me, I fail to write for those who need their voices projected, for those who look up to words to heal them, for those who are not educated and need their tears sent to the government, parliament, leaders, charity organizations and philanthropic bodies through my writing. Never have I ever written enough for change, for love for others, for unity, for development and for substance of evolution.

Part 2 contributed by Emediong Etetim

WRITTEN FOR THE LIFE I WISH I HAD
Everyone feels they understand the level of pain or frustration I’m in. To them, only my feet is touching the water. To me, only my head is above the water. Never have my words been understood but rather misconstrued. Now to live a life where it is okay to not have to explain myself at every turn is all I crave to have.

Disclaimer: This piece was originally written by me and part contributed by Emediong Etetim. No one else had contributed to this piece. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

 

Blogging series 6: Public appraisal

by Emediong Etetim

In the world where your life is being judged by your online content, where you do not have an interesting day if it isn’t posted on snapchat or your style sense isn’t on par if you do not have a crisp photo on Instagram showing off your latest designer purchase. It is not very surprising that self validation is also being set by twitter’s standards.

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Picture gotten from-Pixabay

In the world where trends are to be followed in order to stay relevant, where everyone’s mind is now programmed to think alike, to act alike, if you do not know the latest music releases, the latest celebrity couples and their cats, the most recent dance moves, or you’re not sporting the pointiest eyeliner, then “girl you tripping”. And you’d sit and wonder whatever happened to ‘uniqueness’.

The words ‘different’, ‘special’, ‘unique’ are all slowly getting lost in our dictionary. Everyone doing all they can to stay relevant even if it means morphing into carbon copies of already existing duplicates. Everyone trying to standout as a clone that they are forgetting that a photocopy will always remain just a mediocre of the original.

We’re all walking, talking faceless ‘ordinaries’ allowing ‘relevance’ to draw patterns unto us as they deem fit, still lacking distinction regardless.

To those who have managed to stay true, and self aware…

Part 2 contributed by Dyna Ekwueme

To those who don’t fall for mediocrity and cliché of existing contents and lifestyle. To those who don’t fit in the stereotypes displayed by the society and pressure exerted by peers and the  outside world that can’t see through their walls. This is not for you.

I want to speak my mind. I want to be free like that little child, be open to learning new things and absorbing the differences in us that shapes our inner minds. I want to be feared by my fears, put what matters first and not what appears to be important. I want to love not for the fashion or looks or the utterances made by jealous minds. I want to care less about the public, be humbled by little beginnings and fight for those who can’t find strength within them, yet I still crave to act otherwise because it’s what the public wants. That is the better way I believe the public can better appraise me. What a mess!

Do you write for your sake or that of the others?

Can you atone for the times you failed to recognize what could have been better? Is it ego or is it just us who are slowly dying from what the world has thrown at us? How much more are you willing to let out before you tell the real story behind how far you’ve come? where do you recognize as home? Here or there?

Disclaimer: This post was originally written and inspired by Emediong Etetim and part contributed by me. There was no third party to this collaboration.

Find out more about Emediong ( For lifestyle, fashion and real  life collaborations) on

Stylepith.com

IG- @em.etetim

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Blogging series 5: The spirit behind “I am”

by Marvel Augustine

Image result for who you are in black and white

Picture gotten from- siouxlander

In life you go through a conditioning process, it creates a mindset (habitual) overflowing with ‘I AM NOTs’. I’ll throw in more light here, take for example; as a young girl of nubile age but you seem to have a broken relationship always, you find yourself with the wrong men and so on. You feel really bad and believe that you are not good enough, you look into the mirror and compare yourself to a glamorous movie idol or homecoming queen and say to yourself, I am not attractive.

Your relationship fractures, and you then begin to think you’re unloved or unworthy. Better still as a schoolchild with a less satisfactory scores (grades) on your report card, you say to yourself, “I am not smart”. These and many more are continuous occurrences you develop all through the years and into adulthood, which begins to define the way you see yourself.

Overcoming this “I am not” mindset  or mentality begins with trusting your inner spirit. There are no boundaries restricting your inner spirit, but your worldview and conceptions to the outer world are defined by this, using your five senses. The outer world is always changing, which, by our definition, means it is not real. This awareness that remains unchanging is the only reality that could lead you to experiencing a majestic wake-up
call.

Run through as many inventories as you can of the things that you would like to define your life with, then make the shift of your imaginations from “I AM NOT” to “I AM”. If you want what follows “I AM” to be harmonious, you should become conscious of what affects your inner spirit. Change the words that define the concept of yourself. Reword your inner mindset first, then seek to gain access to the real you and all that you  desire.

The words “I AM” which you consistently use should define who you truly are and what you are capable of. It should be represented as meek as that of the holy expression for the name of God. Always make your very first consideration the honor of your divine spirit. This will allow you rise to previously unimagined heights.Spiritual acknowledgement is a trigger to the power of “I AM”. Teach your outer self to acknowledge the Supernatural power of your inner spirit.

“I AM”, two of the most powerful words ever, whatever you put after them defines your reality. Stay positive!

Disclaimer: This piece was originally written by Marvel Augustine and this is one of the media he chose to share his inspirational piece. No parts were added by me or anyone. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Blogging series 4: Forest of Promise

by Aiidee Sinclair

I was on my way to Bonny Island to see a relative. We had boarded a ship and sailed off. After about 35 mins we heard fired gunshots. 

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Picture gotten from-Thailand

“what is the problem?” I asked one of the cabin crew.” our ship is under attack by a group of gangsters ” a man I could I tell from his voice was in great panic answered.

“what?!” I screamed on top of my voice with my heart throbbing aloud.

“Please Mr. help me! they are after me” said the most beautiful and gorgeous girl I have ever seen, crying by the end of the ship just close to the entrance of the main door.

I wasn’t in my right thinking as I forgot for a moment that we were in a great deal of danger. Her natural beauty got me. I finally decided to help, as what else was there to do when we were under attack by the unknown. As I pulled her up from the ground, she seemed frightened and had given me a distrustful look.

“What is happening? what offence did you commit? was it you who had caused this attack?” I asked furiously not minding if she had answers to it or not. It felt like such a nightmare. ” I was about to be smuggled into a world that doesn’t exist, I had escaped before my abductors knew what was next”  she replied with a hasty look. 

“boss! there she is” A man with a huge jaw beard appeared from behind her. She turned,  pointing at the three hefty men with large figures and a mean lookwalking towards us with the man I had seen at first, screaming 

“please Mr. help me! those men are after me”, I quickly grabbed her by her hand  and began running towards the front of the ship not knowing where this will eventually lead us.

“There is no other option than for us to jump as many of the crew had done” I said softly to her when we got to the front top of the ship. She didn’t hesitate but jumped off the ship. I followed swiftly. We swam for what seemed like an eternity until I passed out….

we found ourselves at the shore of the sea surrounded by thick green forests….

To be continued…

Disclaimer: This piece was originally written by Aiidee Sinclair and this is one of the media he chose to share his fictional prose. No parts were added by me or anyone. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.