Thursday, 24 June 2021

Flat Line

She was this close to rock bottom when she realised how much she misses writing. It took her several dilly-dally years, two close death calls, different phases of depression, losing most of her friends and a huge part of her humanity to realise how bad she misses it, how bad she needed to write. 

It's funny how important a pen and paper means to her, her lifeline. This flat feeble rope holds so much and carries a lot... It's time to unclog.

She was stuck for so long and tried everything to become unstuck but only succeeded in digging herself further down so she decided to just settle, get comfy and be at peace with being stuck. Sadly, the earth doesn't consume flesh half full. Little by little, pieces of her fell off and turned into dirt dragging her in some more. 


She got so stuffed with dirt that she was literally full of shit. Shitty happy times, flimsy fun moments, fake hearty laughs and poker-faced bravado. She became really good at being stuck till it was too late... well almost.


Hence this, her last lifeline. A pen and paper. A dead me writing a dying her, asking, begging, hoping and praying that she wakes up and lives a lot more. Please don't die, stay alive, live a day more to wake me up again. 





                                                                                  by: Atila

Monday, 10 December 2018

Limbo

We are not alive...
We are surviving within our minds
Wrapped inside a cocoon made of flesh and bone
Dancing naked in a forest full of fairies and wolves
Dreaming of heaven, that we are in heaven

We are not alive...
Breathing against the shadowed walls of our past
An illusion of life
Lies we mimic as memories

We are not alive...
We tell lies as tales
Daring the reign of our unhinged souls
Seeking solace in blind faith and promises that are uncertain

We are not alive but dead...
Long gone, playing tag with smelly corpses.


                                                       By: Seyi Awonaike

Tuesday, 6 November 2018

Dark Gloom

She knew not how it was, but with the first glimpse of sundown came the evil leer of thee fatigued shadow,
It was laying low, unnoticed in her room.

With thy smile a sense of insufferable gloom settled within her.
The cold settled around, sinking  in her a sickening feeling that brought heat to her toes.

This thing that unnerved her so - what was it?

It certainly couldn't be the fear of the night...
For therein she thrived.
So she turned to religion and pondered weak and weary... seeking answers beyond this realm,

As the clouds turned dark, a figure cloaked in black
Approached,inviting her to death's bosom
Thus demanding from her a drop of water, for death is thirsty work...


                                                                      Written By: Atila





Monday, 8 October 2018

Grey Hour


In this perfect hour,
Sealed with silence and worries. 
All shades come to light...

For the moment is perfect, 
To ponder over all things wrong, painful and powerful.
The breath of fresh air is only but a gasp,  

A sigh of help for the sound,
Of your heartbeat is muffled by the vigorous jabs of piercing emotions...
Anger, hatred, and betrayal.

In that perfect moment,
You understand the need to stay strong 
And preserve the life in your eyes....



                                                                By.... Atila.

Thursday, 5 July 2018

This Pot of Beans Life by Seyi Awonaike

“ This Life is just a pot of beans “
To think that this morning the only worry I had was that I wouldn’t be able to connect with a guy that I like on a certain level that I'd like.

Now that’s the farthest thing from my mind. In truth I can’t even remember how his hugs feels like. I wish I could it’ll be a welcomed distraction. The only thing going through my head right now is  the anguish and pain in the eyes of a man I barely knew.

Someone I might never see again for the rest of my life. But his pain left a scar in my heart. His cry for help, his unanswered questions, floating in thin air, questions no one would ever have the answers to.Question he directed to no one and everyone present.

His questions left me with questions too.
Like why did he have to face me with his eyes red and puffy with tears, tears he will probably shed for the rest of his life.

All because God didn’t grant him his heart desires.
All he wanted was for his daughter to live and see another day. To be healthy and strong. To love and to live longer than him. To be the one to bury him.

Now all he has is his reality. His baby girl is gone, forever... leaving him with in an unhealthy space filled with hatred and anger directed to the one being I fear and respect the most...God.
He rained curses upon the heavens and the earth, on everything God made including he himself. In the depth of it all I could hear his desperate plea for a miracle, none came.

His daughter is dead, soon to be forgotten by some, the nurses, doctors, her friends and even me.
This life is a pot of beans, live it as it is and leave the rest to... God. I hope you live life without doubts and find love that you don’t need to question.
I hope I do too...

Try not to leave things to fate and destiny. Try to always live your own destiny, your own path. Make your path the right path. Be angry, be sad, hate and love for you are allowed to.
In the dead the night, this night I feel nothing. I guess I’m allowed to too. I’m filled with wonders on how I find myself in situations like this.

How death has made himself known to me in different ways but still hasn’t confronted me. I'd like to think I’m stronger than him but that’s a fool's thought. I’m no fool.

The man made a statement, no he asked a question, some of the numerous deep rooted gut wrenching questions he asked was, "Who is God? What does he give? What does he take? What the fuck does he want from me???"

I felt that, I guess everyone there felt it too. These questions he answered himself. He said “God is the devil, he gives pain, he takes lives, and he wants me to forever be a bitter man”.
After which he broke down and cried like a baby in severe pain.

All these while he never for once let go his child's body. Begging and cursing.
I saw a man insane with pain too much for him to bare and all I did was turn away, I couldn’t accept his pain because I couldn’t give him reassurance... peace.
No one can, not now or in the nearest future...May be never.


Monday, 16 October 2017

Death's Fear by Atila

I felt the overwhelming presence of Her Aura, I knew she was there ready to take me and eager to engulf me, but unsure as to whether or not she should fight me. I knew she was there and without doubt I turned wanting to stare back at her and intentionally I inhaled the feel of her  presence.

We both got guts but not enough to confront each other, because if she had stayed, I would have been ruined, I figured she felt the same way too for I couldn't feel her no more.
With her, went the stench of Death....






                                                                   By:     Atila

Monday, 31 October 2016

Sekinah. (سكينة)

Forgive me, for at this stage we might not really flow. Forgive me, for now that I write, I write for my soul. Forgive me, but I don't really care if you do. I've gone too far with my eyes at the back of my head. I've come too far, still I am scared the light will blind my eyes. I've come this far it's time I open my lids.

Tick Tick, Tock Tock, sounds that mounts fear in my heart. Tick Tock Tick Tock I am scared to open my box. Tick Tick, Tock Tock, what do I really want? 

I pray my day to come, a time when I can shed the skin I have acquired over the years. A time when all I will need is (سكينة)Sekinah.
As I said earlier on, please forgive me if we don't really flow for I write this just for my soul. It's time to choose but it's too hard a decision to make...

Please forgive me that I ask this of you. Please take me for I don't want to choose. Take me and take our pick.

                            By: Awonaike Seyi

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