Search

randomwithlaone

literary fan t/a amateur writer on the loose

To the jobseeker baking in 28 degrees celcious of 2:45pm Sub-Saharan African Sun

To the jobseeker baking in 28degrees of 2pm sub-Saharan African Sun, This is but a mere obstacle course on your path to greatness. 

As cross the tarmac for the uptheenth time today to be economic with the last of combi fare in your pocket, sweat beads cascading down your face, remember to wear your smile like a lapel flower, bright enough to enjoy, but never so bright as to annoy or cause suspicion. For in this small concrete jungle, just like in bigger concrete jungles everywhere, we’re all a lil suspicious, and a lil untrusting. 

As you open your mouth to greet receptionists caked in black market make up that scorches the skin, their faces soured by another failing weight loss diet, remember to steel your voice. Your throat might be dry and voice croaking because you forgot to pack a bottle of water when you left in a hurry in the morning, but remember your race is bigger than the gum-smacking hurdle in front of you. 

As you steel your nerves in the elevator on your way up to meet the manager, remember to take a moment to 1. Thank God you’re making progress and 2. Appreciate the solitary moment of air-conditioning, unbutton your shirt slightly and let that cold air caress your nipples and dry your armpits. As you approach your designated floor, remember to fasten your tie. 

As you step off the elevator and come face to face with the vicious guard dog whose table is marked “Private Secretary”, pace yourself; you’re being scrutinized more than you have ever thought possible, and your walk will open that door behind the desk better than whatever Hallmark greeting you googled this morning. When the guard dog finally looks up at you after making you wait by that desk for what must’ve seemed like ages, remember to be gracious in your smile, you’re not a toothpaste advertisement. Mind your posture, people respond mostly to body language, than actual verbal communication. When the guard dog finally acknowledges your resolve, that you’re on a mission and will not be deterred, thank them and walk through the closely guarded door without looking back, your war is not with this poor human who is also only here to fend as you are. 

As you cross the threshold only to be told by a dismissive junior manager that his supervisor’s supervisor, whom you swear you spoke to on the phone and appointed with for this specific time, is not in the office and will not be coming back until tomorrow, do not break into a sweat as your head spins in disappointment and your palms sweat with questions. These people must not see you sweat. Thank them for seeing you, and speak in measured tones, managers – however junior, are always impressed to see how you will handle crisis and pressure, this is your time to shine. 

As you journey home in the baking in 28 degrees celcious of 2:45pm sub-Saharan African Sun, be not dismayed for today alone, despite the Internet failing every 20 minutes, you have emailed 8 job applications and joined 4 more job placement sites, and still, almost miraculously managed to hand deliver 5 job applications, crisscrossing town before lunch breaks that managers never return from. You have slayed dragons on this day Jobseeker, wear that badge tonight as your stomach grumbles almost passively, with your feet soaking in warm water. 

Advertisements

Half Moon

Half Moon
Breaker of casts,
Leader of the pride.

Half Moon
Rise from the west.
Where they said darkness lived,
Where they sent the Sun to sleep.

Half Moon
Holder of all moons,
Mother of Crescent and Gibbous Moon.
Drawer of Full Moon.

Half Moon
Rise from the west.
Where they had said nothing would ever come,
Where they said you would never come.

Half Moon
Queen of Scorpio.
Slay the dragon that is fear.

Half Moon
The stars sleep in your palm,
And rise only at your calling.

Half Moon
Holder of light,
Lead the night.

The things we hope(d) for

I carry your hopes in a bell jar
That lives on the east-facing window of my heart.

I pray for their growth,
And hope to see them bloom.

On a marble windowsill
Where we once whispered our dreams,
Waiting for the sunrise.

Morning dew kissed the leaves outside,
Tiny rainbows danced on each apex,
Alluring, you called it.

We locked gaze with the sun,
And bathed in Her splendor.

Unknowing,
That this was the dawn of our end.

Never enough words

Reading, is a true love. I always feel such grief when I come to the end of a book, and must vacate the space away from here and now that it invited me to, wrapped me up and swallowed me up with. Often times, I allow myself a brief moment to wallow, not just in the loss of beautiful fascination, but also the retiring of cheers awarded to characters, snide comments slashed across the neck a of villains, and the tragic end friendship so brief, deep and tender, wedged into 500 or so pages, margins justified and lines sufficiently spaced, but never enough words for loss. 

Waiting

I am sad for you,
Because you think
That is how this world’s hearts are built,
Desolate.

Always on eggshells,
One foot in, the other one out.
Careful eyes dart this way and that.

Always waiting,
For the other shoe to drop.

The day my President Threw Dust

IMG_0939
I am offended that people think holding a different opinion to the President is to attack him, and it is “unpatriotic”. Do we not understand that democracy, in the most basic of terms, is based on the freedom of opinion and expression? That a difference of opinion is not a declaration of war?
I agree that giving a woman a position of power that she has rightfully earned is an empowerment of women. I am appalled that ANYONE in this day and age, would also hold the opinion that said women must also be THANKFUL for said post, that it is ENOUGH to be the first female Speaker of Parliament, and she should not strive for more.
 
In all frankness, we must ask ourselves, would we have the same opinions if it were a man, having served as Speaker of Parliament, written a controversial book and publicly declared aspirations of leading the country. Would we then ask, “Why is he not GRATEFUL? Wasn’t it ENOUGH that he got to lead all these ministries, and serve in countless diplomatic missions?” Would we honestly say to our friends, “But why can’t he just go home, and lead a quiet existence, away from politics?”
 
What does Democracy truly mean to us? What does the Empowerment of Women mean to us? Do we have a truthful, honest understanding of Feminism? What about Gender Equality and Equity?

The Reluctant Writer

Sometimes, you see it coming.

Articles, nouns and adjectives group together, you hear the whispers.

A plan is afoot.

Verbs and adverbs commentate discreetly.

Sometimes, it is an urgent surprise in the night.
Thunderous assault on the windows of your eyes, jolting you out of sleep,

“You need to write it!”, says one voice.

“Fine! I’ll fetch a pen” says yours,

Reluctantly.

The Fall

Oh how they fell,

The mighty

From the slippery veils of Pretentious Hill

In thunderous thuds,

Buried in thick clouds of sunbaked dust

Mangled bodies

Littered the jagged foot of Pretentious Hill

Mutilated mouths, twisted ajar

Frozen in pantomime prayer to unforgiving gods

Rock plunged deep into skull

Split wide-open,

Overripe fruit in the sun

Rivers of blood,

Soaked the thirsty earth

Break away

Where does a blogger with writers block go when that writers block has taken over their life for over a year?

Firstly, may I preceded by saying,I’m cannot speak for all creative souls, we all see things in different ways, and draw our inspiration from many, varied sources.

That said, I feel I must explain my own recent absence from the blogosphere.

I often draw inspiration from intense emotion. Extreme happiness, or excitement work fine for me, but sadness works the best of all emotions. In the past year or so, I have allowed myself to slip into a place (at least emotionally), of complete and utter complacency. Uninspired to go either way, or truly invest myself in anything, or (even more sad) anyone. You know how Nicki Minaj says,”to live doesn’t mean you’re alive”?, well that was me. Living, but not alive.

I needed a break. A moment away from all the worries in my plate, away from friends, family. Away from worrying that I didn’t have time to get away, away from EVERYTHING.

This past weekend, I finally got my break, and I feel that excitement I used to wake up with returning, and with it, a stirring within me to write!

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑