I Rant….

Love is like owning a dog..


Just love this!

Originally posted on The diary of a loner.:

First of all, it’s a big responsibility,
especially in a city like New York.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you’re walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain’t no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,

View original 197 more words

My Parents

This was sent in by my cousin. Love it.

I had just become aware of how silent the house was. I picked up my phone to look at the time. I didnt realize how fast time had flown by. The last time I looked at the darned thing it was 8am. I had been in my room in front of my computer screen for hours unend, getting up only to use the washroom or grab what had now become my staple meal: crackers from the pantry. I was sleepy now. I wanted to sleep. But I hadn’t seen my parents for most of the day and I live with them.

I left my bat cave and walked over to their room. They were asleep. I stood there a while staring at the people who gave me life, now battling old age. I was stuck. My imagination wondered to how they lived before me. What made them laugh, how being in love felt like for them. I pictured my mother sitting behind her sewing machine pregnant with my sister, sewing a pink and yellow-flowered dress awaiting her arrival. And I pictured my dad on site mulling over his drawings with the contractors of one of his projects. Then he’d come home and affectionately kiss my mother on the forehead and deftly ask “whats for dinner?”

My mother was pretty back then I imagined, like me, if not slightly better looking. And my dad was tall and lean. That hadn’t changed much even with their slight receding hairlines and salt and pepper hair colour. As I looked upon them laying on the bed, I realised just how much I loved those people. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone….I was created by them and I loved them dearly.

For a moment I felt a plethora of emotions well inside me. Fear being among them. Fear that I will one day become just as old as they had become. I was thrust into my future to look upon my daughter staring at me too and thinking her own thoughts. I wonder what she’d think of me. Also the fear that I could lose them now at any time. I felt happiness that they created me. And I felt loved by their mere presence.

My dad hasn’t changed much in my eyes, even though he’s started bending over like the old people do and loosing a lot of weight. He’s still the tall, lean and somewhat handsome young man in my eyes with a good sense of humour…most of the time, a passion for the Lord and his family. And my mother. Oh my mother. Do I love that woman! She is the proverbs 31 woman. She’s lived out that life and I can only aspire to be like her…the backbone of her family, holding all of us in her mind, her heart and her prayers.

When I caught up with my imagination I picked up the duvet and covered them, thanking God I had parents like those and saddened that old age was silently and slowly creeping up on them.

Have you ever been in love?

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life… You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ or ‘how very perceptive’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love.

~ Rose Walker

The Sandman, Vol. 9 Rose Walker

I Don’t Know

We clap our hands but the bracelets and charms don’t move
We tap our feet but the ground doesn’t move
We play the drums but the air doesn’t move
We pull the strings of the harp but they don’t move
All is silent
We open our mouths but no words come out
We open the flood gates of our souls but no tears fall out


I couldn’t stop the tear from rolling down as I watched my son clutch Timi, his bear closer to his chest as he leaned against the gate as he stared down the road. Apart from food breaks he had spent all morning and the later part of yesterday standing there willing his best friend to return. It had been only a day and half but the pain in his heart was visible for all to see. I clearly remember the crack in his voice when he asked me what her mother meant by the word “Gone” He understood “Gone” in relation to his elder brother. “Dad, where is Kwame? Kwame has gone to school, he will be back in the afternoon” There was always the assurance that there was a return, a date expected for the person to return. He knew something was different when she told him her daughter had gone to Poland to live with her aunt, he knew there was a difference when she gave him the parcel. He knew there was a difference because he could see her in the back of the car, we all could see the tears in her eyes.

They didn’t share any final words, the day before yesterday was like any other for two young kids. Running around the compound, climbing of trees, playing house with their various toys, sharing a pizza and some chocolates before nightfall. It’s funny how they bonded so quickly when their initial encounter was a disaster. She had just moved into the neighbourhood and had had her bicycle stolen, unfortunately I had also just bought the same bicycle for my son but of a different colour. She came over crying with her mother behind her calling my son a thief, he was also crying and none of us the adults could be heard over their accusations and petty jibes. Their next encounter was at an ice cream and pizza shop…..

Dear Stranger

Dear Stranger,

I am on my second 500ml can of beer and it’s not even lunch time yet, i remember swearing to myself last week that this won’t happen again but here i find myself drinking and thinking about the cider i got for a friend, I might end up drinking that as well. I am not depressed, far from that, I just find myself in a strange place and with no clues as to how to behave.

I am Obi and a music lover, i have a regular job though it doesn’t give me much pleasure. I don’t mind the long hours just the weekends that it usually takes away from me. The days that i can go out and meet people, the weekends that i used to spend with her.

I met her about four months ago and my life hasn’t been the same since, I’ve gone through the whole emotional spectrum from end to end and back again. Never felt so strongly about someone like this before, no one has ever frustrated me this way before, caused so much fear in me, excited me this much, got me tired with her distrust. Never been this stressed before. When i am with her in Blue Lagoon, i feel so relaxed, everything is calm and I feel like a King, even though I am still shy of her. She has this cute laughter, just like her mother. When i hear it and look at her, I feel like hugging her and drinking in her essence, I want to hold her all night.

But it wasn’t meant to be or maybe not now, this is where i am confused. What do you do when the woman you love asks for space, asks for time to find out what she did wrong in her past relationships? Do you swallow daily the words you want to share with it? Do you keep your dreams to yourself? How about the excitement of a promotion? Do you “forget” to mention it because the enthusiasm that was once there no longer exists? Do you still share good news? How do you deal with the reduction in chats? Have you experienced this before dear stranger? Do you catch yourself thinking whether the “friend” that she is at the cinema with is interested in her and if she is considering him? Do you start counting the weeks that you last saw her? Do you ask yourself whether you are the only one feeling this way? Do you ask yourself whether it really means the end?

Stranger, i know i love her and only want the best for her, does that mean i should fade into the background? Does it mean i hide my feelings and let her know i will always be there without actually being there? Do you think its going to be easy with time? Sorry to bother you with all these questions but there is no one else i can talk to. Do you think she sees me with my mask on? can she see the hurt and doubt in my words? Can she see through the false bravado? Or she only sees me chatting and laughing with other females?

Hurts to say this but i think i might never ever be with her but i honestly tried to show her who i was and what she meant to me.

Thanks for reading this.

Borrowed the style used on Letters To A Stranger

How does one act like a friend towards someone you feel more than friendship towards?

I Want To Understand

I want to understand love and why it makes some of us slaves to misery and yet fills others with so much joy. 

Drug Pusher

I need to see my dealer, I am sick and tired of the pain I feel when the high dies down. He sold me a paradise, he promised laughter and not a single pain. He swore it was the best feeling ever, that the world would pass me by, I won’t notice the time and seasons. It was going to be all bliss.

I need to see my dealer, I want it be made more potent, it has to last longer. The feeling of euphoria has to linger on for weeks, the waves of joy and happiness should keep crashing against the shores of my heart. The sadness and pain should be washed away from the beach of my heart. The drug has to prepare my heart for the dainty feet of my Queen. The woman I dream of when I take the drug.

I need to see my dealer, I want another drug. A drug that can deal with the effects of the first, a drug that dulls the pain when the first is wearing off. A drug that gets you through the troughs of the highs. I need a pill that masks the fears and doubts that set in when I return back to earth. I need a drug that makes me forget that it is all a dream.

I need my dealer, i need my drug pusher to tell me what to do in-between the highs of love. What does one do when there is a lull in the relationship? When it seems like the spark is gone. How does one cope with this feeling of hopelessness. How does one stay perpetually high?

“Love is dope” and i need my fix

“If you love and get hurt, love more.

If you love more and hurt more, love even more.

If you love even more and get hurt even more, love some more until it hurts no more…” ― William Shakespeare


Maxwell ~ Bad Habits

Laugh and dance with him
He’s amused by your giggles
Hold and reassure him
Take it back to the 99 days
When love songs had meaning
Sing for him, words with meaning
He is a lover of words and ways
Tell him of your dreams and sell him a dream
Watch him fall for you and blindly seek paths
Paths that will lead him back to the dream
Go on, grant him heaven
Paint and make it feel secure, make it feel like a haven
Because after all this, granted, you will expose
Your true intentions…and then you shall be enemies.

Hook of Bad Habits

This is the highest cost
Take you and make you off
Love you and leave you lost
Will you forgive me?
This is the highest cost
Take you and make you off
Love you and leave you lost
Will you forgive me?

Loved Nana’s post which I titled Her, thought about it the whole night, the beauty and sincerity in the words. I don’t know what the writer had in mind when writing but I wanted to write a similar post. I wanted mine to reflect fear, hope and a longing, I don’t know if I achieved that but what I do know is that love is a scary and lovely thing. The journey is never assured, hard work is needed to make it survive. You have to wake up each morning, get on your knees and stoke the fire, keep it burning. You never neglect that fire, desire. It should fill your home with warmth, every little corner should see the flickers of the flames, your neighbours should feel it.

There is the fear that you would wake up one morning and the fire has died out because of a severe storm the night before. You can prepare for that, take steps so that when that storm and others come your fire would be safe. Make conscious efforts to protect it, never place a barrel of water beside the fire. Always have more wood for the fire and never ever get tired of fanning the flames.

Don’t let the fear be the fuel of keeping the fire burning. Fear has no place in the home. When you find the right fuel, man….when you do find the right fuel…


Wine and dine her

She’s digging your melodies

Flatter and humour her

Take her back to the sixties

She’s not the only one. She knows.

She is well aware of your abilities

But go on, compliment her clothes

And boast about your ‘amenities’

She’s gotten used to the pros

And these are your specialties

Go on, hand her a red rose

And talk about love and its fallacies

Go on, grant her quick repose

And give her all the remedies

Because after all this, granted, you will expose

Your true intentions…and then you shall be enemies.

This was written by Nana, you can find the post (linked to her tumblr) below


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