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Sunday 13 January 2013
Monday 26 December 2011
To Get Back A Day [2]
..and there's me.
U all have an inkling to my unique makeup and the things I am capable
of so, i'll spare u the giddy excitements that attend my recounts and
just about get down to brass tacks,
though further detail might be exposed in private to the insistent.
And don't go getting warped ideas at my meaning, please.
U all have an inkling to my unique makeup and the things I am capable
of so, i'll spare u the giddy excitements that attend my recounts and
just about get down to brass tacks,
though further detail might be exposed in private to the insistent.
And don't go getting warped ideas at my meaning, please.
We waltzed into this mall, myself and Fatz, and head in the general
direction of the rows of assorted bottles of liquified influence,
I do still recall our heated debate over choice and quantity, and my
taking off like a bird of prey towards the sauced-up roasted birds
doing summersaults in a glass case.
Well, all is settled at the end, as all such matters are,
Fatz' got his 2 bottles of Smirnoff, and I have a roasted bird at
hand. A win win.
We take our picks to the counter, impatiently awaiting our turn to pay
up and scram when I get an eerie gut feeling somebody's watching me.
I brush it off as one of my moments but the feeling persists and so I
gander a quick survey of my sorroundings if only to put the matter to
rest, or convince myself i'm under the influence when a bit further
down the counter, to my left, I bump into these dreamy pair of
lulling, bright eyes that suck the breath from my lungs.
The experience of that brief encounter, if told in its entirety, wud
make a lengthy essay, of which i'm not particularly good at.
All consciousness of time and place was lost on me,
all I cud see and feel were these amazing pair of eyes and the things
they were doing to me.
The probe and pull of those eyes held me spellbound for I dnt know how
long,- questioning, assessing, telling. I was lost in the moment.
Then I saw a glint, like when the pupils reflect light, a spark of
excitement kindled in those dark orbs as the face encasing these twin
tools of unnerving sensations lit up in the most dazzling of smiles I
cud remember back then. And that's when my own eyes took in her face.
A beauty. A heart-stopping, traffic-jamming work of an artist.
With that wrenching smile, she turned her gaze and attention back to
the girl behind the counter, secure in the knowledge the turmoil she's
calculatingly stirred in me.
''Ur bill is..., sir'', from the girl at the counter,
and i'm roused from whatever and wherever it was the gazing lady had
put or taken me.
Absent mindedly groping for my wallet, face flushed, and out of breath
I finally have my wallet out, then on their own perilous accord, my
eyes wander to the figure to be bestowed with eyes as those, and
that's when I lost all inhibition.
Ever heard of 'the figure of an hour glass'?
Well, hers sure made every second of my gawking travails tick!
...stay tuned.
Friday 11 November 2011
Tuesday 8 November 2011
To Get Back A Day
A DAY IN MAY, 1999.
I sauntered into the mall in company of Fatz while the rest of my
riotous crew remained in the beat-up, overdriven
Mercedes(230)-flatboot, taking slugs from the emptying bottle of Jack
Daniels and slurring along to an indecently loud track from The
DoggPound's latest.
Okay, i'm not in any way implying we were a public menace, no, far
from it. The atmosphere this day just could not be controlled, we had
come into a large sum of money, we just needed to have a blast.
I would like you to meet my friends, and that's really a privilege.
There's Fatz with whom I swaggered into the mall, 5feet-11inches of
large bones and thick flesh, the guy is built like a prizefighter,
imposingly massive, a large nose taking away forty-percent of a kindly
facial feature embedded with soft eyes, bushy eyebrows, a square chin
lost behind not so close-cropped sideburns and silky beards, big lips
betraying a hint of mischievous amusement, a hairy (and I mean hairy)
body all thrown in to make this handsome hunk of towering mass.
There's Akanimo, (Blinkaz) this guy holds the record blink-time in one
minute...and that's when you're about to get conned, he packs a lean
but toned body from his daily 'coils, bench-presses, etc', and his
dark hawk-like features affords him a predatory air that is often his
weapon of offence and defence.
There's Alex, original fine-boy-no-pimples, light skinned, trim body,
close cropped beards, smart dresser and dancer, the real dandy.
And then there's me...
Sunday 6 November 2011
Drifts.
I believe u all know who i am.
I say so because what i'm about
to isnt
typical me and reflects in no way
the
me that we are used to.
I see i have ur attention, and u
are
wondering what may've come
over ur
everyday poet.
No thanks to my batty friend, Dr
Cokaine (Victor).
Yes, Cokaine. U now have an
inkling to
the kind of guy, dont u?
The dude's become a grim
taskmaster
of late.
I keep asking myself how i ever
got into
this, i mean, was it wrong to let a
friend
know of my inclination to bring
various
words into focus and create art?
Yes, i know some of my crafts
are not
worth a nickel, pure balderdash,
but so
what?
I love the beauty and art a few
words,
aptly put together, can bring.
It's what i do best, and i love it.
There. Sharing my dreams, that
was my
undoing.
Now i'm saddled with this
physician
doling out literary lectures and
assignments like i were his pupil,
or like
he were addressing the latest
batch of
student doctors, stretching my
relaxed
thought processes with a gusto i
have
come to despise.
Grrr! Dont i just wish i cud smack
the
smug look off that grinning
mischievous face.
Alright. Hold a second, look at
me..
Have i in any manner, be it word
of
mouth or thru my works,
indicated that
i am an essay writer, a novelist,
or that i
nurse any passion for either?
Then where in Eden got this
man his
idea?
He sits before me a minute, next
he's
on his feet, proprietarily pacing
the
room while bashing my senses
with
''writing skills,. .push urself'', and
whatever else he'd tarried the
previous
night studying, just to make my
day
miserable.
''Write 30pages in 2days about
SPACE'',
he goes,
''Not SPACE relatively, but SPACE
in
itself, stand-alone.'', he submits,
a
suppressed sly grin tweaking the
ends
of his merciless mouth.
He knows he's got me, the. ...
hmm!
I have a handful of various
'French
letters' i wud eagerly and happily
put
together to call the man, u know,
but
for goodtaste.
No, not to his face, silly!
What were u thinking?
But, i guess he gets his kicks
from
ruffling my feathers and so i will,
in my
characteristic good nature,
indulge his
fancies.
Folks, as i air my vents this day
and as
u've so patiently stayed thru this
chartless epistle, i feel it is ur due
that i
make this effort worth ur while,
the
works, whole and unedited, as it
flows
from my wearied mind, if u wud
tarry
awhile with me.
He asked me to do a freestyle
write-up !
I told u this guy' s a nutter, didnt
i?
What in Luci's hell is
'freewriting'?!
For the love of St. Pete, how do i
pick
up pen plus paper to scribble
away at
Heaven knows what, all in the
name of
freestyling?
I never heard a more
preposterous
idea, if there was one!
But despite my misgivings, i wake
up
this morning and my first thot,
after
thanking The Father, is to get this
guy
off my back.
To humour the persevering son-
- of - -
a - - - - woman!
Hahahaaa! Held ur breath back
there,
no?
I bet u were mentally spinning
out a
lecture on 'choice of words' and
'reader sensibilities', eh?
So, where were we?
Yes, i get up this day, bright and
sunny
after 2days of morning drizzles,
I grab pen and paper and here i
am,
obviously raving about nothing,
and
letting off pent-up steam.
Forgive us, if this made little
sense to u,
it's the task i was instructed to
undertake by my newly adopted
literary
guide, and to his biddings i must.
As conciliation for taking u on
this wild-
goose hunt, i'm posting a regular
note
to sate ur literary appetite, in no
time at
all.
Please stay tuned.
I say so because what i'm about
to isnt
typical me and reflects in no way
the
me that we are used to.
I see i have ur attention, and u
are
wondering what may've come
over ur
everyday poet.
No thanks to my batty friend, Dr
Cokaine (Victor).
Yes, Cokaine. U now have an
inkling to
the kind of guy, dont u?
The dude's become a grim
taskmaster
of late.
I keep asking myself how i ever
got into
this, i mean, was it wrong to let a
friend
know of my inclination to bring
various
words into focus and create art?
Yes, i know some of my crafts
are not
worth a nickel, pure balderdash,
but so
what?
I love the beauty and art a few
words,
aptly put together, can bring.
It's what i do best, and i love it.
There. Sharing my dreams, that
was my
undoing.
Now i'm saddled with this
physician
doling out literary lectures and
assignments like i were his pupil,
or like
he were addressing the latest
batch of
student doctors, stretching my
relaxed
thought processes with a gusto i
have
come to despise.
Grrr! Dont i just wish i cud smack
the
smug look off that grinning
mischievous face.
Alright. Hold a second, look at
me..
Have i in any manner, be it word
of
mouth or thru my works,
indicated that
i am an essay writer, a novelist,
or that i
nurse any passion for either?
Then where in Eden got this
man his
idea?
He sits before me a minute, next
he's
on his feet, proprietarily pacing
the
room while bashing my senses
with
''writing skills,. .push urself'', and
whatever else he'd tarried the
previous
night studying, just to make my
day
miserable.
''Write 30pages in 2days about
SPACE'',
he goes,
''Not SPACE relatively, but SPACE
in
itself, stand-alone.'', he submits,
a
suppressed sly grin tweaking the
ends
of his merciless mouth.
He knows he's got me, the. ...
hmm!
I have a handful of various
'French
letters' i wud eagerly and happily
put
together to call the man, u know,
but
for goodtaste.
No, not to his face, silly!
What were u thinking?
But, i guess he gets his kicks
from
ruffling my feathers and so i will,
in my
characteristic good nature,
indulge his
fancies.
Folks, as i air my vents this day
and as
u've so patiently stayed thru this
chartless epistle, i feel it is ur due
that i
make this effort worth ur while,
the
works, whole and unedited, as it
flows
from my wearied mind, if u wud
tarry
awhile with me.
He asked me to do a freestyle
write-up !
I told u this guy' s a nutter, didnt
i?
What in Luci's hell is
'freewriting'?!
For the love of St. Pete, how do i
pick
up pen plus paper to scribble
away at
Heaven knows what, all in the
name of
freestyling?
I never heard a more
preposterous
idea, if there was one!
But despite my misgivings, i wake
up
this morning and my first thot,
after
thanking The Father, is to get this
guy
off my back.
To humour the persevering son-
- of - -
a - - - - woman!
Hahahaaa! Held ur breath back
there,
no?
I bet u were mentally spinning
out a
lecture on 'choice of words' and
'reader sensibilities', eh?
So, where were we?
Yes, i get up this day, bright and
sunny
after 2days of morning drizzles,
I grab pen and paper and here i
am,
obviously raving about nothing,
and
letting off pent-up steam.
Forgive us, if this made little
sense to u,
it's the task i was instructed to
undertake by my newly adopted
literary
guide, and to his biddings i must.
As conciliation for taking u on
this wild-
goose hunt, i'm posting a regular
note
to sate ur literary appetite, in no
time at
all.
Please stay tuned.
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