Anxiety, Coping System, Descriptive, Emotion, Late Night, Life, Love, Pain, PenPractice, Poem, Prose, Shorts, Sleepy time, thoughts, Uncategorized, writing

Sleepless

The room is cold. Harsh. Unforgiving.

But it’s safe here.

It’s home here.

Everything freezes in here. Left to hang in the air like unsaid words and unresolved emotions. It’s much better in the long run.

It’s better than the fires outside that are licking the frame of the door, begging that I open up so that they can engulf me in their responsibility.

In their warmth. In their potential for great things spanning countries and changing lives around the globe.

Their fire for making everyone around happy and content that I’m not a popsicle like the rest of them, but the rest of them are here and I can tell they are cool.

But this is better. Much better than playing with a natural energy source and watching it consume me. Why would I risk being burnt alive? What’s the endgame there?

Success or cremation? And they think I would risk it all for that?

So yeah, this is fine.

This is fine.

I agree my fingers might be numbing off from inactivity and the general lack of engagement for it’s better this way.

It means I won’t be able to carry anything after a while.

That said…

It is very cold…

Descriptive, Emotion, IG Prompts, Life, Love, Pain, PenPractice, Poem, Thoughts, writing

IG Prompt: We Are Who We Are

We are who we are

We are the children of the Earth,
the pride of the Motherland,
the beautiful melanated hue of human origin,
the inhabitants of the spectrum between light and dark tones,
comforted at the truth that at our core,
we know who we are…

We are the men seen as lesser men,
by lesser men who had gotten it in their heads,
that we were lesser than them.
So they tied, beat and tortured us,
moved us over the sea in an effort to own us,
and if they couldn’t cull us,
would relegate us to Poseidon’s waters
where we would watch the surface drift farther away,
as our shackles dragged us to the bottom.

And even then,
amongst the creatures at the depths of the world,
they still couldn’t break us.

We are the 5am Nurturers and Gatherers,
toiling through the field for produce
just so that we can feed our young and ensure they see a better tomorrow,
because today just feels a little harder than it should.
We watered the earth with our tears,
and reaped our sown seeds with sweat and death,
even as they tried to break us,
but they only succeeded in making us stronger.

We are the families with one less member in the family.
So Mummy’s out there working two jobs and a late shift,
just to keep a warm bed to cuddle into at night.
Because Daddy’s not coming.
Because Daddy went shopping with Uncle Timmy for some flour.
but Uncle Timmy can still walk the streets,
while Daddy’s under a strict curfew and stricter visiting hours.

We are the marchers and the protesters,
clicking our fingers to the mental replay of Martin’s speech,
so we light the metaphorical candle in our hands,
as we sway from side to side,
humming a consistent song,
“Free at last”, or so it would have gone,
as we realise that they still haven’t managed to break us.

So they switched formation.

Drycleaned the white robes, got into politics.
Burnt all their crosses, and made laws instead.
Decade long feature movies of their hit novel
“How to Oppress from behind the Curtain”
Made strides at conversation with us,
out of the mouth of a metal barrel.
They wanted compliance,
with a medical dose of a bullet per prescription

And yet,

We are still who we are.

We are the entreprenuers of a new age,
with new dreams that have no shackles on.
We are the executives and the cooks, the businessmen and women,
the lawyers, engineers and high school student with 83 college acceptances

We are the trendsetters, the music moguls,
the ” Who Run The World” ladies with unstoppable energy

We are excellence itself.

We are the Kings and Queens of civilisation,
the rulers of ancient lands over the waters,
descendants of the birthplace of life itself.

We are the mothers and fathers,
brothers, sisters and uncles,
that stand side by side with those we call our own.

We are black.

We are proud.

Descriptive, Fiction, IG Prompts, Love, PenPractice, Shorts, writing

IG Prompt: A Man and His Dog

“I remember when I spoke about Kevin to my work colleagues for 30 minutes straight before they understood I was talking about my dog.

And yes. My current companion is Kevin, and he’s an adorable german shepherd. A” good boy”, if you will.

And Kevin is wonderfully intelligent. I mean, He’s far more intelligent than I give him credit for. It could explain why I sometimes talk to him like he can talk to me back. On some days, I wish he can. But dreams are dreams for a reason.”

I recline back on the lawn chair and watch him run back and forth in the backyard, chasing a harmless butterfly. He keeps yelping and leaping rather enthusiastically, I’m inclined to believe he’s putting on a show for me. It’s almost ethereal.

It makes me laugh.

I call out to him and he comes trotting towards me, almost matter-of-factly, like I had just interrupted his day’s work but the manner in which his tail wagged told me he was happy. I was happy too. I had spent enough time not being happy so this…this is nice.

“This is essential. Without Kevin, I would probably have made a bad choice down the line. Sarah’s death took a lot out of me. More than I even knew I had. The days got shorter, the nights got longer. I remember the vivid hours I spent just drinking and crying and then drinking some more before dragging myself to work.

Heck, I think I drank enough to ruin my liver, but I don’t think I’m going to the doctor’s just yet. No reason to chase bad news. If I have, I will find out eventually if it becomes a thing.

At the moment though, I’m okay with Kevin.

I did say he was intelligent, didn’t I? There was this one time, right… I was rushing out of the house, still fresh from Sarah’s death, but feeling much better. Kevin had only been around the house then, like… say… 5 months. Not enough time to be able to get what I mean, you know.

See I got moments, when I’m so comfortable with him, I sometimes call out Sarah’s name before I remember that it’s just me and him.

Anyway, so I’m rushing out of the house now, searching for my house and car keys, and it’s doing my head in, you see. I was already running late, so I was getting kind of desperate. On instinct, I call out to “Sarah” to help me find my keys. I hear his paws as they padded its way up the stairs but I don’t register it.

A few moments later, as I sat on the couch, I hear a woof and I see him, wagging his tail, my keys at his feet. He woofs again, bending to carry the keys in his mouth as he moved to drop it in my open palm. It was then I knew, that He was much more than I give him credit for.

I think it’s the quiet way he just seems to understand what I’m thinking or what I need.”

He nuzzles my open hand and I move to rub his head. He was a good boy.

“Sir… This is what we mean when we say it would be best, if you came to the Home with us. For moments like this. There’s no Kevin in the garden”, I hear the attendant in the white dress next to me.

I can hear the pen as it scribbles on the pad she’s carrying. Probably a stooge from the council to get me to sell my house and move into a home. I laugh quietly. Kevin woofs by my side.

“Of course, there’s no Kevin in the garden. Had to take him to the vet last year…” I clear my throat before continuing…

“…So yeah… I know he’s not in the garden. And yet, he’s next to me wondering why you’re bothering me.”

The attendant remains a straight face and I can’t resist the wide smile that forms on my lips. They will keep sending these guys till I bite a proposal. But I’m in no rush.

Kevin is here. I am content.

Descriptive, Emotion, Late Night, Life, Love, Pain, PenPractice, Shorts, Sleepy time, Thoughts, writing

Sleepless… 

What I saw was the “could-be” version of her.

Not the “current”.

I fell for the demo version of her, because she was worried her reality would make me turn away.

I can’t blame her. Maybe I would have run. Maybe I would have stayed, and helped put back her broken frame, piece by piece, till she resembled the perfection that my Creator made her to be.

Either way.  I did stay.

Here.

In love with the reality in front of me.

Looking at her naked self, as she strives to preserve what little shell she has left, because her last companion left her with the damages and walked out of her life.

Either way.
I’m here.

So I roll my sleeves up, retrieving some glue and some sandpaper in hopes that I could assist in making her whole again.

But she doesn’t want me.

So I’m here.

And I don’t know what to do.

Emotion, Late Night, Love, Pain, PenPractice, Poem, Shorts, Sleepy time, thoughts, writing

Sleepless…

3 hours in and my body forces me awake. Body heat fluctuating because it can’t understand how I can sleep while my mind’s in emotional disarray.

The light pierces through my eyelids, and having the flash of bright light, I find myself staring at the white ceiling.

Maybe I’m not as good in communication as I thought.