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.

 

Advertisements

The perfect kind of lie

Related image

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-

 

Related image

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.

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

Outgrowing the wild

IMG_2766

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.

Self-betrayal for my art

05:09am

red_paint_by_abasmikael-dabtvyj

Picture painted by Abasido

I’ve held grudges for mid-nights that refused to give me the right words, for ecstatic memories I needed to feel at times like this.

Here’s how people who applaud the cracks and loopholes in my craft talk to me.

Did you hear them? Did you see what I wrote about them? No, because they feed on silence and that quietness that keeps them at a distance.

Don’t sing praises yet for the way I make you feel. Don’t be confined in my thoughts for too long imagining how I penned it all down. Don’t love me only when you can relate to my pain. Learn to understand this place I choose to write from. Learn to fall with me without fighting gravity. Appreciate the loathe that burns through the words that speak for sanity. Know this. Know this always that I’m a breathing war.

Darkness

I wish I allow myself be whole everytime my fingers itch to speak. I wish I wouldn’t choose parts of me that aren’t naked everytime I listen to my body’s vibration.  There’s art in feeling the way I do before these processes. There’s also the art of picking what my soul’s spirit wouldn’t let the world listen to, self-betrayal.

I’d cut through these layers of my flesh to compromise for losses. I’d paint my worries red to white the agony of womanhood and my evolution. I’d dance to the tune of every poet I adore to feel sane and not hate that I do this. I’d give up writing about lust, what I think of others and where I’d rather be just to outshine these constant thoughts.

I’d betray myself everytime for this art. Writing.

Do you find yourself sometimes in similar situations of self-betrayal? Would love to know in the comment section below. Thank you.

PS– This content was featured by Abasido Michael with his beautiful art inspiring this post. Do check his Twitter page out and appreciate his content and art if you like them. Thank you. 

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.

Happy women’s Day

Image result for powerful women abstract paintings

Picture gotten from-Figurative art

To be here, to join hands and to murmur what it’s like to feel this way. To feel like a woman that I didn’t choose to be but of the nature that chose me.

Here is to all the days and all the nights I stay with me, with womanhood thinking of how big of a smile I should give the next day even whilst groaning in pain. Here’s for now, where neglect and responsibility will cut through deep layers of my skin, yet I’ll stand and be silent of it all. I wish to celebrate everyday for the rest of my life women whose existence have hurt and broken them in ways that can’t be told or written, yet love is all they give.

To women of all colours and roles in life, you are a bold statue that can’t be washed away by lingering figures. You are waterproof and transparent amidst where you think you’ve been. You are still a rose to be admired by men that stand with you. You are deserving of all favours you’ve been turned down. You are all this because you are a woman.

The universe will make love to you in good timing, woman. we will all celebrate the joy and pride of being a woman with you because you are valuable and valid.

I hope you take care of yourself everyday for the rest of your days here. Happy WOMEN’S DAY!

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

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

img_1622

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.

img_1625

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.

On ageing

In my thoughts, in my head, in my journal. Here.

img_1257

 

Win your battle before you come home to mine.

Don’t remind me the trails of footsteps I face everyday.

It’s not enough to live young, wild and free because I know of places that don’t bring me such experiences.

Hold onto the existence, let what you have to say complement mine. Let what you have to give add up.

Don’t scare me with silence. Don’t tell me I’m too young to learn what grey hair can teach. It’s my cup of tea.

I am not here to prove how much neither do I seek accomplishments that will one day be forgotten.

I’ve been told countless times to win, win and win but I never got led to. My bruises, pain, tears, countless failures equals me.

Give me what you call wisdom, give me peace of mind. I’ll find my fun,my energy, my space and most importantly, me in all of it. Let me be.

Ageing is just a state of mind.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.