Afrosays to me

…random excerpts from my communions with the AfroMuse

The Truth Teller February 28, 2012

Filed under: Scenic — Betty @ 11:24 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

thatdarkBetty: Today, I beat the gong of non-absolutes.. Listen.
 
THE TRUTH TELLER

 
The problem she had with Joshua was that he told the truth.
 
She met him through her cousin and when after their first date, he had pulled her close and kissed her and said he wanted her for himself; she had come gushing to me. “He’s not like the others, no fronting whatsoever.” I was only glad she’d stopped being so finicky about men. She grinned wide and laughed a lot; her eyes glinting with hope and liquid adoration.
 
When she strode into my house and plopped down on my couch, her forehead in furrows; I had immediately assumed it to be a familiar end to a short story. But she began to speak of how he cradled both her hands in his and looked into her eyes- her soul, she corrected- and said vehemently how he could not and would not live without her. She had looked up from her storytelling and I saw tears glisten in her eyes; she seemed perplexed and when she described him as ‘desperately honest’, I had thought it was an odd combination. Desperately honest? But it was then a strange smile lit up her face. I have never seen her that happy; she practically beamed as though a light bulb had been switched on inside of her.
 
“Do you know what it’s like?” She asked me after she had relayed how he’d spent the previous night telling her all the brave and horrible things he had ever done. “To find a man who tells you the truth… About everything?” He was candid and sincere she said; he made her want to uproot her puny morals and start again.
 
So when she came back to my green couch and curled into a ball, shivering with fears that stemmed from underneath her lacey blouse. I was more than slightly taken aback. Explain it to me, I pleaded. What went wrong?
 
“Nothing,” she said.
 
And quoting her words back to her, I reminded her of his honesty; how pure and rare he was; how happy he made her. But she only flinched with each word, as though I was punching her belly. She raised a palm to stop my flow of words.
 
And then she said- “That’s the problem. When the love dies, will he hesitate to tell me he feels no more for me?” I moved to speak but she stopped me. She had never said she knew his love was eternal, she had said his honesty was. And so, she was afraid. She was scared that he wouldn’t do her the favour of being quiet when he no longer loved her so passionately. She was scared he would tell her when she was no longer attractive and when he would sleep with his secretary. And when he would take a bribe and then share all of his fears and doubts and worries and that it would overwhelm her. That his honesty would crush her with its startling clarity and piercing starkness.
 
And looking in her eyes, there was no shaking this terror. So, I poured us red wine in huge mugs and snuggled in beside her and said nothing. She took a long sip and said to me, “Don’t we all need to be lied to? A little? I think so.”

 
 

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A chest of fruits February 22, 2012

Filed under: Poetry — afrosays @ 9:00 am
Tags: , , , ,

Metaphors are the joy of us all and they are the gifts we share with each other. Today, a friend shares a bag of metaphors for us. Shall we dig in?
 
@itz_bigboiler’s words:
 
The cool breeze of the sylph Afrosays swooped a pollen grain towards me
It was a grain like no other
she sang the coolest of melodies to my ears
Serenaded my hearts
Captured my soul
Made my spirits soar
My megalomania mellowed when I realized her suss
I took her in, and here is the fruit of my womb

 
 

 
A CHEST OF FRUITS
 

A festoon of shiny dark hairs curled like a noodle
 

Resting on an enlarged cashew
 

Two black and glowing stones dwelling between two peeled eggs
 

A schnozzle protruding like a carrot
 

Two strawberry-red slabs unleashing a radiant smile
 

An antagonistic arraignment of bleached heterogenous grains
 

A slenderized stem running into 3 tributaries
 

With the midmost bearing two juicy oranges
 

Oranges that had sprouts
 

Irrigation washed through the style all the way to the pistil
 

The desire of every spermatocyte
 

Posteriorly lies a cottony lump gapped by a straight line
 

All of which are carried by two thin trunks
 

This is the woman,the one I love.

 
 
Find the art of our @itz_bigboiler here

 

Making Conversation II February 20, 2012

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 9:00 am
Tags: , ,


Forgive us as we hone our art, as we take time to shed old skin and put on a new, shimmering guise of aptly crafted alphabets.
Do wait, it shall be worth it.


@JADENTM SAYS: You might have heard the sound before, but listen, as the beat moves your feet in a different rhythm. Let it; let it take you where it will

MAKING CONVERSATION II

...a drink perhaps?

 
Find Making Conversation I here
 
“Interesting fusion of traditional and mixed-media to portray a familiar subject. The question of course, is why we should care about yet another mother and child painting…”
 
“Excuse me? The bar is all the way over there.”
 
“I was thinking more, cocktails, Churrasco’s, tomorrow night?”
 
“Sorry I don’t talk to strangers.”
 
“What, you haven’t heard of me? I am Akilapa, local champion, beef head, jock and jester. The favourite of maidens, the original Oko Omoge…”
 
“I think you mean Ajanaku.”
 
“No, he’s my much less attractive younger brother. Don’t laugh, he’s sensitive.”
 
“But he hunts elephants!”
 
“He sings them to sleep before he kills them. Shh, it’s a secret.”
 
“Who would I tell? I don’t know who you are.”
 
“I’ll tell you everything over drinks.”
 
“I have a drink.”
 
“You might be hungry at some point in the near future…”
 
“Beep! Try again.”
 
“Have dinner with me.”
 
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
 
“I might be in a minute if you say no…”
 
“Oh, what’s that? I think I hear my name.”
 
“Come on! I solemnly swear to open all doors.”
 
“People just don’t stay as dead as they used to.”
 
“Tell me your name.”
 
“Only if it comes with a signed autograph from Ajanaku.”
 
“What, you’d turn down all this for a mere elephant slayer?”
 
“I’ve always had a thing for danger.”
 
“Tell you what, we can discuss the terms over dinner.”
 
“Mmh, I’ve never had tusk before.”
 
“Oh… sorry, we’re all out. Gave out the last piece to another one of Ajanaku’s fans. But Sky Lounge does great sushi?”
 
“I suppose I could settle.”
 
“Great, I’ll drive. Guess what, I open car doors too!”
 
“Handy trick, yes?”
 
“I am exceptionally well trained.”
 
“It’s a driver’s license. It costs five thousand naira, and actual driving know-how is not a prerequisite.”
 
“If I told you my name would you quit trying to bite my head off?”
 
“It’s a free country.”
 
“It’s Deinde.”
 
“Ooh, poor kid!”
 
“It’ll grow on you.”
 
“…Like a fungus.”
 
“What was that? Funke?”
 
“The only Funke I know is sixty and balding.”
 
“I bet she was as pretty as you are when she was … twenty one?”
 
“Cradle snatcher!”
 
“That’s way above the legal age!”
 
“I smell pee.”
 
“Hey, pretty cute Aaliyah’s got the vibe…”
 
“Not my name either.”
 
“Ah, but what is a man without hope?”
 
“Rich.”
 
“I went to school with a Rich.”
 
“Did he break up with Hope?”
 
“You’re running low on jabs, miss anonymous.”
 
“I’m trying to see how long I can keep it up.”
 
“Or you could just tell me your name.”
 
“My name? Hmm. I am the sultry abomination, psaltery like the song of Yemoja’s first heartbreak…”
 
“Oops, that was me. Hope you’re not best friends with her or anything like that?”
 
“Who, Yemoja? Bitch got hers.”
 
“I love a girl that curses.”
 
“Shit, did I?”
 
“Yes, but you were saying…”
 
“Oh yes. I am Enitan, the riddle, the desirable, the disastrous. Daughter of the deep, my eyes will subdue your weak will and bring you to your knees…”
 
“I don’t think you meant ‘eyes’ just then.”
 
“They’ve been known to have many names…”
 
“There’s a few things I like to call them.”
 
“Give me five. Ten seconds. Go.”
 
“This is a trap.”
 
“You pussy!”
 
“Er… I’m just going to keep quiet at this point.”
 
“And what am I supposed to do for entertainment?”
 
“You could tell me your name, but I may have a heart attack and die.”
 
“Or just a hard on.”
 
“Death by …disclosure?”
 
“If stiffies were wishes!”
 
“Sorry, I haven’t heard that saying.”
 
“Tell you what,”
 
“…As long as it’s not your name.”
 
“It’s Enitan.”
 
“I think my heart just stopped.”
 

Find the art of @JadenTM here
 
 

 

 
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