WISH IN

EXT. KISH PARK SQUARE – DAY.

The park is wet from the afternoon showers. A little drizzle. Almost deserted.
Few people walking, some standing, others sitting on the benches in the shades all in twos.
On the concrete pathway is a young woman, FLOWER, tender and fair, nineteen, 5′ 11, in a black long coat, heel high boots and black gloves.
Strolling leisurely. Beside her is an aged man in suit, smart and neat. Holds an umbrella over their heads. He hands Flower the umbrella, heads back same way they had come. Flower strolls slowly, makes a turn and heads straight to the monument.

She stares right ahead, then her pace reduces, she feels her pocket then glances from side to side, then back.
Flower pulls a picture from her pocket, stares into it then up and around, puts it back then pulls down the umbrella.
As she walks to the bench near by, she makes sure she sees & notices everything around her. She mumbles some words as she moves…FLOWER

At the park, Kish Square, Hero’s Monument, afternoon…At the park, Kish Square, Hero’s Monument, afternoon…She moves round the monument and back the same spot. She then heads to the end of bench and sits. A few spaces from Flower on the bench, a man, 58 year old, 6ft tall, tattooed to the neck, ROCK. Rock sits on the back rest of the bench, his feet on the seat. His feet tapping rhythmically on the wet bench. On his tattooed wrist is a heavy wrist watch that he keeps glancing at.

His elbow on his knees and hands clasped together. He glances at Flower momentarily then away. His gaze shifts to the monument, and rests there. From the other edge of the bench, Flower is anxious, battling with the decision of approaching Rock or not. Rock pulls a picture from his breast pocket looks at it keenly, drops it back. Flower walks to Rock, she then reaches her pocket for the picture, shows it up.

FLOWER

Could you help me please, have you seen him? Rock contains
himself though it’s evident he is perplexed. He stares dangerously into the photo.

FLOWER

Hey, have you seen him? Flower waves a picture in his face and he looses balance, though stables.

FLOWER CONTD

Have you seen this ghost? He’s been several times in my dreams. I have woken up and now he is lost.
Rock looks at flower absentmindedly then keenly then answers her.

ROCK
No, no I haven’t.
Flower turns to leave disappointed. Rock removes the picture from his pocket looks at it then drops it back. Flower turns just in time to see him drop the picture. He stands on the bench. Flower again shows him the picture then asks.

FLOWER

Are you sure you haven’t seen him.

ROCK

No, no I haven’t. Flower turns and walks on towards the same direction she came. First her pace is slow, it increases then she breaks into a run.

Rock breaths with a deep sigh, jumps from the bench then head for the opposite direction.

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

Sophisticated and extravagantly furnished bedroom.
A large Oak wood bed in the middle of the room. A smooth carpet on the floor. Long glamorous curtains, turquoise hangs loosely on two large windows, one overlooking the park, and the other the wide sea. At a corner stands a desk; on it is a computer, a scanner and printer.

On the bed lies, Flower lying prostrates an i Pad in her hand. Her hair overflows freely covering her face. A genuine smirk on her lips. Low music plays from the computer.
Next to her bed is a small low table, a glass of juice on it from which flower keeps sipping from. Time to time. Her bed is neatly made.

FLOWER
I met an artificial ghost today, who held my wild desires at bay, and for the third time in a row, I now let this fantasy loose and go.

ROCK
I heard that they exist to spice life.

INT. ROOM – NIGHT

A small dingy room in a flat, twilight dark. A fan rockets from the ceiling. At one corner there’s a bed, clothes and bedding unkempt on it.
A back pack half open on the bed. There’s a laptop too. From another corner is a fridge. On it there are papers and half opened cookie packets. A picture of a girl is on the do

INT. ROOM – NIGHT

At another corner, Next to the fridge is a pile of newspapers, magazines and printed papers. At another corner is a computer, is visible from the door.
On the table is also a printer and a can of cold energy drink.
Next to it is a printer, heard printing. An aerial hangs on the small window overlooking the sea. Tattered papers on the floor. The room is unkempt. Rock paces to and fro on the small space in the room.
On his shoulder is a small towel that he uses to wipe his forehead and neck from time to time. In his hand he holds a can of a cold energy drink.

FLOWER
That journey won’t make me sad, though I am already mad.

ROCK
Fantasy I must retrace back, without connection without network.

FLOWER
That sweetness easy came, and back I cannot claim, this long and weary dream, pinch me and hear me scream.

ROCK
Reality must have tampered with fantasy.

FLOWER
By paper it came, by paper it will go.

ROCK
If it weren’t for the rain today, our intention I would have obeyed.

FLOWER
Oh, he is teasing me again, putting me where I cannot handle.

ROCK
She is poking me again, holding me in places.

FLOWER
This living lie, for, I would never die.

ROCK
I got the mail; it came with the feeling and with instruction too.

FLOWER
Take me out of here, to exhale into that space.

ROCK
Reality had a hand in everything.

FLOWER
You should have called if you were out of fantasy.

ROCK
Next time will be fine when the sky is clear and without doubt of overrated expectation, that might bear disappointment.

FLOWER
It must have been intentional to miss the park meeting!

ROCK
Be with you was the first idea, feeling you was second. Thought and loving you was an imagination.

FLOWER
You speak fiction, ghosts your family and reality your worst enemy.

ROCK
I could not handle the blessings, too much.

FLOWER
For a third round, your charm elevated my desire to be with you
higher and higher, its just unfortunate that’s all.

ROCK
How I wish, only that wishes are just that. Forget that, would it be another next time? To see a real realization? This promise must be fulfilled, because it is as real as I am.

FLOWER
At the park, Hero’s Monument,afternoon…

Rock gets up from his chair and moves to the fridge for another drink. comes back and peeps, then press Escape!

Flower lies still on her bed.

FADE OUT

From the mouth of a Stallion.

Getting in touch with is one of the most painful things a dreamer can ever experience. Sailing away from reality will always have a memory of realization that it is important to be part of it. Wishing into reality and dancing away miseries, drowning in worries that only drive you to solitude and death. If wishes were just what they are!

However there is more to reality than just mere wishes. Some aspect of finality, that it is just real, that it just has to be real are facts that can urge one to develop opinions, strong opinions that build negative or positive attitude towards very sensitive issues in life.

When I was growing up, my life was surrounded by masculine human nature. From brothers, neighbors, friends and most relatives. Most of my neighbors were boys, I have no sisters and my friends too were mainly boys because that was what was there in the neighborhood. The only feminine I felt close to were my mother and a very close friend in school. I remember at one point in primary seven, she lost her dad and wrote me a letter that she wasn’t going to come back to school, that she was changing schools. I went to my mama and demanded to be transferred to the same school. My mother thought I was absurd.

My brothers and the father of my baby are the only masculine creatures who should have treated me better, they never did. From the spicy talk from my friends, colleagues and even relatives, I believed that there’s a special way that I should have been treated as the only daughter and their only sister. So I grew up knowing that I am a queen of some flavor and should be treated in that way. It is the only way I believed I should be treated. It was a long dream.

There are some words I wasn’t sure when I’d use, I never believed I’d use them; father, daddy, papa… I never had seen one. I was never told of any. Resentment and bitterness inside me, though halted by the fear to ask who. I didn’t want to make mother uncomfortable and although I never wanted to seem rude to her. So I kept cool but bitterness and resentment eating me from the inside slowly. Why wouldn’t she tell me? Would it be something that I couldn’t bear or something that I’d regret hearing? All these fears kept me at bay. Did she think I never wanted to know?

This was climaxed by the fact that my brothers concubines knew that I was a bastard and they laughed it off. This was actually the final revelation of my desire to leave home, go far away where there is no one I all family, run away from reality. What really made this decision come so easily was the fact that one of my brothers expelled me from where. I called home for reasons I never knew and never got to understand, and what made it sad was that even my mother could not do anything because he threatened and never listened to her. Secondly one of my brothers’ wife had called my mother a name I am not comfortable with just because the father of her husband, my brother and my father were two different people.

Next was the father of my baby. He turned stealthily and slowly away from us gave us the cold shoulder and didn’t care any bit for us. The moment I dreaded came when I could not stand seeing my baby go through what I went through. Could it be rejection? I felt guilty because seemingly I would subject my baby to that feeling. He played cold and I swore not to talk him into his responsibility, so I let him choose. He chose silence and indifference. I played along.

I don’t want to play the victim. A victim who missed out of better treatment from the masculine species. This is the sole reason, I left home and went far away. Away to pitch my foundation for me and my baby. For I had lost hope on relying on anyone, but God.

 

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a virtue and a virtue is its own reward. Holding on to unforgiveness and resentment as I came to learn is a load the bearer suffers from its weight for a long time. Or thinking otherwise or acting otherwise would lessen the days of the bearers’ life.

Before forgiveness, comes truth, and with the truth in every rightful mind there is always justice. However truth once revealed always blow a calming wind that will always involuntarily invite forgiveness anytime for any humane being.

Sometimes justice segregates individuals and limits one from grouping him/herself with some ‘class’ who lock themselves in their own world and others out. They always run out of patience for forgiveness even when there is no emergency. They use their day’s quota of patience on things that do not matter. Always handling things with a touch of unnecessary pride, it costs a lot.

Love spells forgiveness. Just as a river flows so is love, you can never stand on its way; no amount of obstacle will stop it, because it will soon overwhelm and find its own way. It has to have its own way. It is stronger than anyone. No one can beat love. Therefore, with humaneness as a virtue, nobody could disable the process of forgiveness.

Forgiveness, the only reason God paid the ransom for me and for you so that we are made whole again.

Is there any justice in the world

 

“If there is any justice in the world…’’

For the umpteenth time the lyrics and tune of Lemar’s song pounds in my head and heart ever since I started doubting the meaning and existence of justice. I can now comfortably sing the words and sometimes I hum and mumble the verses over and over again and again. I would nostalgically sing the song alongside James Blunt. Like Lemar I would strongly compose a song in solidarity to the fact that earthly justice is in extinct. Those who endorse the essence of Lemar’s song overweigh others who think otherwise. Silence should be golden.

Everyone wants justice but it is so amazing how not everyone would be willing to give the same justice. Treating myself fair and right and doing the same to others is simply justice to me and any other rational being.

It is only human to have self-interest though. To treat yourself fair and right before any other person might to some extent mean having everything in your favor. Otherwise it is injustice. We are comfortable treating others as they treat us, this makes me wonder whether justice is a principle of humanity or a virtue.  In like manner, is Joseph Kony an antonym of virtue?

That legendary teaching that ‘you take my coat and I give you my shirt too’ or ‘you slap my cheek and I turn the other for you to slap again’, distinctively shifts the understanding and knowledge of justice. Why take my shirt in the first place? It isn’t right or fair. And more so, why would I give you my coat after you grab my shirt? Taking my shirt in the first place is not fair. Where is humility hiding?

Again, poverty seems to define every course of justice today. In poverty you are doomed to helplessness and almost believe that justice belong to the wealthy and only exists in those fairy tales. The wealthy too think that justice is one of their rights regardless of its presence or not. Justifying this statement is not any of my intention and could be over and above me.

Today I would comfortably say that wealth overweighs justice. Or they complement each other.  Both go hand in hand and in fact, justice does not survive in poverty, if it does, that is an exception. On the other hand the wealthy and their wealth smoothly sail away in the storm of crime, impunity, corruption… through any convictions into freedom. And this is just justice to them. Their fair skin cannot be in contact with the shackles, the oxygen in the prison is not good for their health…..

Sometimes my wish for survival does not augment my hopes for justice any day. At one point I believed that it’s only in the church and International Criminal Courts where justice is. But how many can reach for it there? I have succumbed to the consolation that, in the next life, where God is the prosecutor, the planner and the judge no doubt about justice.

There is not much justice in the world. It is only human to make justice where it should be, but it’s natural to always take justice.

For whatever course, humanity has got its own way of giving justice. For every action you do there would be a remedy in good turn or bad turn of your life time, so to speak. If you sow you must reap and whatever you sow, you reap. You must pay for the wickedness and or get reward for every good thing you do. How I wish every evil soul would access this.

We are capable of granting ourselves justice in our life time from the products of our invested behavior in life. Like the attribute to Harry S. Truman (1884 - 1972)

U.S. president.

Do your duty, and history will do you justice.

 

 

 

 

Cargo from Yesterday, Oh God!

The nostalgic aroma here                                                                                                      The sickening stench there                                                                                                           And confusion in equator
Unfolding affection and adoration
Indebted to humanity, thought,
Well…
That, to yearn with years chosen to be
Never existed per se
Rather else, on second earth

”Beckon me dear
Wherever you are
I won’t take long”
Welcome all preliminaries
To stir back the course
Loving this since gimmick days
When yours resembled mine
And ours was one

Just you and us only.

Oh this holy violence that has kept me
Hope
While my boundary sieve protection
I wait for us and we start all over
Right here not there
Where just intellect survive through
Will o’ the wisp
Keeping Faith at arm’s length
For tomorrow is very strange
Though even with death and back
Would still be a quality
Corpse of the only legal possession.
All machismo never to protect or to defend
But this isn’t a man’s thing,
God’s.

Rummaging imaginations of all intellectuals
Desires of barren quest
Spiced and never liked
This time made too real
And organized just to thrill
Alas!

It must have been Calvary
But how without crucifixion
Or well, or not yet.
That hurricane from the winter desert
And that whirlwind from the summer sea
Why not admit once and for ill
Just in love with what isn’t
Where, how, what,
Oh why?
Those that arrest a hundred percent
Viewership
A feat not just for any ape
They want to sprinkle sauce on you
You and condiment and devour you raw
‘Recommended graphical exploration,’ they say,
‘The one God created on Monday’
A malignant social cancer.
Only conscious obstruction can save.

Oh hail the angels within
And scale a balance
To roar and surge the spirits back
That once stricken with fear, unknown
Always enduring and never-ending
But not yet, yet no needs met
Now I take my stance to supper merrily
The cud
For that hiccupped back.

If I were angel
Meet me at your gate
Is it here where it is?

here i am

They had their own time

I had mine too

For a genuine excavation without

Not like a widow who knows

Until, but at death

The grave.

Like new day as it comes and goes

In its own duplicate

Duplicated sequence

 

But my perpetual pursue

Ceased to halt at the horizon

Went round on its axis

Where I got to see but never saw.

Every black or white conception

Banging all the windows of opportunity shut.

Without any conviction

 

How far within this day

And now branded legally blind

All rights to paint any law.

Camouflage friends

 

Different people come in and out of our lives. There are those who touch our lives in with indelible affection; ways we live to remember. They become pillars that hold us firm in times of storm. They are what we bounce back to in the midst of a hurricane and hung on to. They are friends.

However, there is another breed, who use the same name, friend. They get into your life and quit when they wish. They come along with their yard sticks, which you have to measure up to, otherwise they quit. They come with set mind of what they want from you and if they don’t get, they make you useless. Their attitude and wants define your place in their life. They call themselves friends.

Our actions, attitude and feelings define friendship, and not the other way round. Friendship takes  us through every aspect of life; in storm and in calm, in rainy days and sunny days, in sickness and in health, and goes beyond death!

In friendship, you don’t get trapped in shackles of commitments. However, you set yourself free and easy. You make easy promises to yourself, that they help you break. They will show you a lot of things you don’t know about yourself without any attitude. This always tighten the bond between you. They don’t know how to back stab! They realize your worth and the role you play in their lives. That is what they hold onto. They don’t allow you to prove or expect you to prove your worth, because in friendship you just be.

A great friend will read through you, tell your feelings and live with them. They believe that the glamour in you will last forever and that makes them want to be with you everyday. They make irrational decisions and to you there can’t be any better way. They are in extinct!

Guilty as charged!

i killed my shadow
it came after me
everyday
thee this thee that,
the sun its ally
both memory,reminded
every and all the time

at dawn i awake and head on
to meet the sun
just with me,
trail too close behind
this shadow!

on and on i went
shunning distraction
when
never looked back or noticed
“i’m right behind you,”
awake again,now real.

at noon
i stump on it
then elusive
so i run,
then
alas! wrong direction
three sixty degrees
another run after the sun,
golden, sweet ambience,
atraction but far away
in the horizon

what!
right behind
the shadow again
next destination,
the hunter deflated and limp,
the hunted too far, alluring
and tempting,

at dusk right ahead
shouting and waiting and waving
“see me?” “wont see me?”
running with haste
to blur that ambition,
eyes for the horizon
to find the sun,

then at dusk
i turn to go back
and start another day
for an easier tommorrow

i kill my shadow
never to rise again,
if tommorrow comes.

If I don’t have time, what am I doing?

THERE HAS TO BE TIME

I knelt to pray but not for long,
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
For bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
And jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease…..
All day long I had no time
To spread a word of cheer
No time to speak of Christ to friends,
They’d laugh at me I’d fear.
No time, no time, too much to do,
That was my constant cry,
No time to give to souls in need
But at last the time, the time to die.
I went before the Lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God! held a book;
It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said
“Your name I cannot find
I once was going to write it down…
But never found the time”

Now do you have the time

Am I too busy?