Ayorinde's Blog

Time stands still
Feels like a blip and there I am
Suspended in space, numb
From subjecting my mind to pressure
Kicking myself for losing valuable treasures
Like sticky notes I placed them on my mind’s wall
Time-stamped places and events
Why did I take that flight
Questions that keep me up every night
Sometimes I want to rollback my actions
Like a commited database operation
I can hate you in three dimensions
And still not show enough emotion
Bandaged sore wounds, the salve is gone
Nursing them with my acoustic guitar and the sounds of Paramore
Every new second is like Kleenex
Wiping my eyes with tear stains created by regret
A deep-set hatred only matched a desire to change my past
By sacrificing butterflies in my tummy for something more effective
I’ve swallowed painkillers
Tougher I became, a rolling stone out of control
Gaining more experience with tufts of heather in my path
Kindred spirits in my quest for sanity and outlawing of romance
It’s now a joyride of bliss
With the occasional swig of whisky and drags of cannabis
Playback events and reminisce
Sitting in my wicker chair star-gazing
It’s still a good life
What say you?

Hey people!

Here is another classic piece of poetry from my friend Victor (@The_Daywalker_) and it’s titled ‘The Journey’. Enjoy and leave a comment ot two at the end will you?

The Journey begins with a taste of honey
Taken from the lips of the honey comb
And strengthened by the elixir from the queen bee
In search of the pleasure zone I roam

I climb the twin peaks, slowly and steadily
While tremors run through the ground
I taste of their fruit, sucking noisily
And then move down to plainer grounds

I cross the Great Plains leaving a silvery trail
Shining in the dark, it glistens in the light
Down, lower, down, lower I prevail
While reason and sense take flight

Through the forbidden forest and bushes I go
Head first, knowing no fear…eager to explore
And the earth sighs grow louder as I continue below
Tasting its fruit, I hunger for yet more

And then finally I arrive at the source of life
The spring running juices of cinnamon and spice
And there I drown life’s sorrows and strife
Heading deeper, cunning linguist with the space excised

And then….I become one with the source
Progressively retrograding to mans basic form
I become one with the force and with force
Plunge deeper into the eye of the storm

The storm…yes for the whirlwind descends
And in a maddened frenzy, bodies and forms mesh
Into one lustful, insatiable, perversely beautiful blend
And we become one…the earth and the flesh

Here, there, everywhere
Another picture on my bedroom wall
Your lock of hair still stuck on my window pane
My heart knew real pain when we went our separate ways
Healing sessions all gone wrong
Tied to my four-poster bed, hung up like a crack head
Faded pictures in broken glass
Old shoes and a golden locket
The crack near the picket fence where we shared our first kiss
Promises of a life of bliss with near misses
Shared goals, highs and lows
Our stable instability, more beautiful than your corn rows
Each passing day now fades in memory
Our time together was an adventure, our love making and our banter
Time and space made us surrender
The very essence stronger than emotional ties
Yet binding us together
A closeness impossible to define
And now you’re nothing more than a memory
I still see you in my mind’s eye
You’re my mirror image
Everyone after you is like a prototype
But I must survive
You took the very air I breathe in
And all I have left are these memories
Leaving an indelible mark on my soul
Persisting in spite of me
Fading but still existing
A body of art and puzzle where I fit in
And sprayed eternally like graffiti

So I’m taking a quick break from a software Development session to post this. Now you know how much I love poetry right? Especially when it’s woven with words that reflect a Spoken Word style. Well, I’ve got something from Victor (@The_Daywalker_) and it’s titled ‘Duality’. Enjoy! Oh, and you can find his art here: Freshprinz.

Guardian Angel….and yet the deceiver
I know she’s lying..and yet I believe her
Pagan goddess- turned me into a believer
Aphrodite…my mission is to please her
The Charmer now Charmed
Self Loved now Self harmed
Pain and Pleasure? Once on a continuum
Now I can’t tell the bloody difference between them
The players war drum theme now a slow, sensual rhythm
Free will freely willed away
Wilfully enslaved for yet another day
If Karmas a bitch my last life I must have been a pimp
‘Cos the ballers swag crooked, playa can’t play with a limp
She consumes my thoughts, dragon lady
Picks at my heart, warrior lady
My defences fall apart…there is no remedy
Because she’s the cure and still the malady,
Carnally I pursue knowledge of her…I must know her
And yet understanding eludes me…so I sink yet lower
Into her, caught in her web of charms I call home
My growing addiction, can’t leave her alone
Enchanter, the spell
My paradise and hell,
Sets me free and yet to her I’m enslaved
Virgin whore in vain I’ve prayed
For even God’s amazed at what he’s made

Your thoughts?

Numb
Devoid of feeling, begging for meaning
Investing and harvesting the fruits of words being sown, season after season
Been away from my reality so much I wonder if I’m dreaming
What’s different makes no sense
Without my art’s inhaler, I can no longer be in good health
Missed this loving relationship
My fondness for words, sending them back and forth, been a while, just like The Corrs
My throat is parched, I thirst for notes to revive my vocal chords
I feel some momentum
I crave inspiration
I desire nothing but the summit of lyrical perfection
The lows deepen my yearning
Where have you been?
Like a weakened conscience, it almost feels like I’ve lost the sense of sin
Buried six feet deep, in a graveyard being choked by weeds of distractions and defeat
I’m tired of writing about pain, love, lust and faith
I feel worse when I pass through this earth living like an ingrate
And now all I ask is for a clean slate, so please take me back and let’s rebuild this relationship
Come back and course through my mind, my heart and give me life

Give me words

I’ve been looking for words to describe
the amazing gift I call a mother
It’s no wonder everywhere she goes
she inspires trust and so much more
How can one ignore
the pretty smile and eyes I’m proud to share
or the sense of humor that’s capable of bringing the dead to life
Yes, she’s a living miracle
A strong wife, doting mother and warrior
Abimbola, there’s not a more beautiful name to describe you
Or the faith you have and have instilled in us
your children, thankful to have you
as the one who nursed us from birth
Proud to be made by you with the gift from the Almighty
I cannot agree more
Your kindness doesn’t make you age, nor your candour
Love and affection, I’d need no heater in winter
The comfort of your smile gets me higher than reefa
Calmness in the face of difficulty and your demeanour
What’s not to love about you
Words fail me naturally but I’m still thankful
for another year to see that smile on your face
and as you age gracefully I’m happy your goodness will never go to waste
So here’s a happy birthday to you
Wish you many more years of blessings from the One you believe in
the same One you taught us to believe in
I Wish you peace that the world can never give
I love you mum

Happy Birthday

A man sits in the centre of the hall
clapping his hands in unison to the closing performance
of a woman who makes beautiful music
an engaging and encouraging rhythm
with a voice pouring out of lungs so powerful, yet wounded
marked in different places with stab wounds of a past
and a constant reminder to her peers whenever she said “pass”
declining the cigarrettes hence clipping the wings of false freedom
music embraced her like a miracle
the ignominous one, last in line but still willing
Tears streamed down her pretty face when she hit the high note
5 octaves of beautiful grace
It’s never too late to start with a clean slate
The journey of a thousand miles, she set off with brand new shoes
and a brave face
running on life’s threadmill, a mandatory exercise
sorrounded by beautiful noise running through her mind
leaving behind skid marks and artsy tatoos
Telling tales of a difficult past, but still her muse
Beautiful noise
The sound of laughter and running water, makes you wonder
how you can say the same thing in different ways, like no other
that melodius voice, if music were human, she’d be a woman
with grace and poise and a backside that make the human race rejoice
joy like no other, music was her saviour
A comeback to life’s sucker punch, a cure for her illness
A living witness of a lady in distress
Gorgeous melody
No make up or ornaments to make it shine in all its glory
shining brightly in spite of itself with perfect clarity
A firm support like braces for a kid with imperfect teeth
perfect for everyone and so unique
Music for everyone, 5 star quality
The protagonist in a war story, and a winner surely

And at this moment our friend is brought back to reality
to the sounds of applause from everyone around
who says inspiration can not be found
amidst the noise of a cheering crowd
and the notes….those beautiful notes
Truly whenever it seems like we are lost, we really are found

Here’s to poetry
Here’s to the sweet flow of words, inspiration
that’s so caring, even when doing chores
Here’s to the sweet sound of music, beautiful notes and chords
the guitar makes music married to words
Here’s to long life and an enduring rhythm
Here’s to all living things breathing
Here’s to mother nature, art in different shades and hues
even to inanimate beings that don’t have a clue
Here’s hoping the words always ring true
Chime loudly like Big Ben and make you smile
Even when worried about about problems that last only a while
Here’s to all poets around the world
making the love shine bright with the pen and not the sword
Here’s a resounding sound of cheer more loving than the care bears
Here is to World Poetry Day
Here’s to a lifetime of living, loving, sharing and giving
Here’s to words
Let our hearts beat as one

He is not dead
Just a shadow of his former self
life battling tirelessly with his feeble body
as though in spite of itself
or against its will
the desire to feel anything, and everything
desirable as life-forms are wont to
has lost its meaning you see
Death seems to have more appeal
It’s becoming even more attractive
to become suicidal
sort of like a fashion statement
to be thrust head first in the sea with a rock tied to one’s knee
or to bleed slowly
watching one’s life force leave one’s body
the pure red blood, running free in different directions
leaving a white-faced mass of flesh in its wake
the once energetic bloke bursting with creative energy
or the seductive sashay of a sexy feline
rendered to such waste by the jaws of death
Doesn’t it sound funny?
Endless words and phrases, prayers and incantations
rejecting a common fate to men and women of all nations
Places and races, judges and jurors
The rich and the poor, the vain and those ignored
Death is closer than what we hold dear
rubs our skins so familiarly without wear and tear
The silent wind that blows across the ocean at high and low tide
looking for a home to settle in
searching for arms to nestle and snuggle in
Hush, I don’t mean to alarm you so
Death has told many a story, we all know
Probably doesn’t mean any harm
Just meeting the deadlines effectively
The Grim reaper lives not for earthly rewards
swinging the blade religiously is its only way
of reminding us of what is important, everyday