SOBRIETY
Motley
crue
*…just
one more night
And
I’m coming off this
Long
and winding road
I’m
on my way
I’m
on my way
Home
sweet home
Tonight,
tonight
I’m
on my way
I’m
on my way
Home
sweet home
You
know that I’ve seen
Too
many romantic dreams
Up
in lights, falling off the silver screen
My
heart’s likes an open book
For
the whole world to read
Sometimes
nothing keeps me together in the seams
I’m
on my way….
The
track has been playing untiringly on repeat since last night and sturdily
across the long and unkindly cold darkness. Into a tequila sunrise, John had just woken up so he hauls his right hand
gently from underneath Ade’s body, scrubs the ray of sunlight off his oily face,
peeps through a thin sight from his glued eyes; its another morning so behold
rise up, shine and give God the glory but his laziness would rather satisfy the
latter. He’s is in possession of only an impaired memory, he can only puzzle
out quite a little but cogent thought of the night before. A feeling of wanting
to mop, soap, and immerse himself then one more random thought; he knows there
couldn’t have been a purpose. He clocks an unusual white paper and a pen left
over it, when there’s a white paper its usually in company of vegetables so it catches
his full attention that it brightens his sight out of blur, braces his spirit
and summons willingness, he quickly picks it, as he starts reading the song
faints slowly to the world and soaks him through the timber, drowning him in
the ink as it cross over one another…”how did we wind up here, in this dreaded
city of despair, an enemy of our breed whose sole goal is slaughtering our kind
over and over. Let’s just call this a memoir or so, formalities bore me to
death or at least it ought to, since I haven’t been ruthless enough to for once
wait on my slayer so I say lets cross that bridge when we never really get to
it. At a young age I was at a place where; we’d sit in and watch over the edge
and over again sunlight sets flash of red, I thought my parent had it all
figured out well they did pretend to do, even had answers to questions,
questions they had no idea of. God help us, I was bound to grow out of that
confine much earlier than required , stuffed in my mind grew bigger than my
body, my shoulder, taller than my head so with my hands I picked my legs and
ran, when I ran I ran fast and far enough, waif-obsessed, I brought my heart
with me. I was inevitably bound to leave anyway like everyone of my breed
legend has it our hearts are sworn never to return to the bed of aurora once it
had left. I came out here to fight the good fight, my head in one hand and my
heart in another, my talent on my neck and my dreams at my foot so I tread
softly, I came out here full of hopes and dreams at the time success seemed
certain and failure; the one wasted here farting in his sleep wasn’t question.
If truth be told he has and he’d have more potentials than myself in ten lifetimes
each after another yet here we both are, we all are, lost in the fight, our
lives is a lost battle yet we relentlessly fight our way into every fight to
simply fight for as long as our souls propel liquid so my condition isn’t so
bad, that’s the way of the roads. By sheer chance in most unguarded of
treading, arrogance and ill-fortune; I was too arrogant to take a step behind
the William Butler Yeats and spread my dreams, my only wealth, beneath your
feet just so you could tread carefully; carefully or otherwise I refuse to be
broke or rather broker for any of you but I sure will spread my nightmares
beneath your feet so you can match carefully or otherwise. I’ve drifted too far
off the highway, off course even far away from the woods held half way from the
land and sky in this winding road; a victim per avion but yet I say leave this
survivor, his head in one hand and his heart in another, his heart may yet find
its place and he may yet conquer well lest you don’t push him off the cliff he’s
already standing on. Forced to unwilling content in undying darkness that
bullies dawn beneath dusk, like every other day I spend on these roads in the
willed shackles of narrow existence I lift my shoulder above my head this time
but the city knocks it down again just like it’d constantly done with my head
before I could peep into the forthcoming and maybe do the world a favour and
kill myself before the future gets here and I’m the nuisance and victim I’m
born and hired to be. Holler to runz gurls who keep it real and blank there
shattered minds on religion and their teaching, I know, I know the least you
have risen from within though your breakthrough is evidently less than the city
offers its elite but pick up your shoes, tie them more than hard every night
and day when you leave for game and keep
in mind their shoes are bigger and they step on and through larger and
silver-laced-fortuned pedestal into certain greatness but you still tie your
shoes the same manner you only need tie yours harder, and more firmly because
yours are little and barely thrive through and in unbecomingly ill-fortuned
pedestal which is if there is at all one, having regard to your high heels anyway
which may fall into the city’s mudbank and they’d laugh you off their wicked
faces beneath their feet, nonetheless; at most match them and now conceive how
hard you’d have to tie your hearts to get ahead. Whatever and whichever way
anyone chose do a thing to survive isn’t the right way only the successful tag
the routes behind them and ahead of you. Holler to runz boys, game boys, skool
2 boys and what not, to those who have set an enviable standard for us,
victimised and sodomised, to those of you who revere and respect these
standards to the last breathe. Never shed a tear, never take revenge, kill or take more, never impress; become
better, never appreciate fun never submit to excitement. Taking is no sin; we
live in a communist end of a capitalist world, they live of our sweats and
drain us not just of blood but sweats. Give options and choices. Bishop would bid
another against his will to raise his hands above his head while his scared
ubiquitous eyes reflect against a twin sharpened-out-of-blunt-ends bottles then
thrust and dig holes in the fertility if his armpit and watch him cry, groan
till he sleeps, he would pluck a niggas life through his eyes . Yesterday,
bishop drew a niggas face into a garri, luger rather while a whole bunch of
brothers pinned his body to a stone, made them leave his mouth wide open so he
could scream and beg with his throat then waited till he had screamed his life
out and had stopped struggling he made them free him bishop blinked twice,
smiled then shot his head against a bullet doom! He grew sober, wept a teardrop
on his fore head after which he thought to respect the body and cleaned the
tear of with 8 more bullets. He always gives them a choice, he’d ask them to
promise to visit him in his sleep and tell him what its like on the other side
and he’ll make there death easy and fast, he is as ruthless, a huger legend on
these roads and myself, I’m like a Spanish fly to these girls. People around
here so cold, my heart done gone froze yet if every place be like these roads
no one would be unwanted this is the way of the roads I’m sober-tired and wound
in, un I lights I’d give anything to come of this winding road but even if I
could my heart wont come with me home. Regardless of all we are young, mistakes
are our companion but isn’t that why there are parents to guard us but the
biggest mistakes of all is to despise them, well we are most aware of this fact
yet regard us as eternal sojourners on a road to self sabotage, self
destruction, and most unguarded. On these roads the ‘surviver is indeed the
fittest more like” an airbag is a parashoot’ alright you are permitted to look
down on the language but not the speaker they might indeed make a parashoot” of
your airbag, when you feel cold iron against your hostile skin in even the
lightest of days, when it’d burst-loud and gust out and open your huge belly,
all nylon melt in and lenses waft out of those shiny toys you ride around in. To
the city we are nothing but a bunch of out of context dangerous waifs but the
city itself is treacherously homeless. Like every other, highly exhorted and revered,
these roads has its coy end, there is uncontrollable addiction towards violence
and we are all sick, severally, sentenced looking unto inevitable darkness and
death on a particular day what would your flexible thinker carry as companion
if you knew yours unconscious of any other road apart from this. We do know
what this excruciating feeling is its effect on our mindful conception or
misconception are the behaviours you flag criminal because you are keenly handicapped
of its effect on our reasoning so you shy off so be careful when you point
loaded fingers at us when our frozen hearts, symptoms of coldness burn out when
you cast fire to them……
A
knock at the door isn’t enough to steal him off the page but the knock
increases into a continual banging on the rather fragile door so he is at last
stolen away but manages to catch the last line; “my soul is locked in shadows my
heart is locked in as well, smoked out”. Ade’s long and pleasant sleep had been
cut short too. John emerges from outside through the door with a bare and flat
chest with a humble boxer pant rapped from just above his waist down a lot
below his knees, the gravely unacceptable sight reduces Ade into delight he probably believes he is
still in the dream world because he had projected a colourful morning so
something as dark as this can’t exactly be regarded as colourful so he
purposely illudes himself into the
former , but suddenly he grasps that John’s black and bare body had infringed
his view of all the colours in the room, he makes a long hiss, turns his hip
with his left arm so he could face the wall then seals his eyes with the other,
john yells! That babe is here! Ade immediately opens his eye lids and throws
his eyes back against his skull and forth, what babe? Well I hope she deserves
whatever you’ve told her because she’s out there smiling, Ade is still trying
to haul himself out of sleep “I mean she was really smiling and it almost felt
unpleasant for a moment there I thought I grew sexy overnight, anyway I snapped
out of that thought already but it did make me feel good…so? He shows him to
the door, Ade had started wondering which one it could be, but being too proud
to ask he just assumes “it’s definitely her, but why on earth would she show
this early” then he recalls she’d stolen his wallet the last time she came over
and when he asked she said because “you left it in your pants” how genuine a
motive, he discusses that with john but quietly and discreetly. Ade by now is
readily furious so he hurries in the direction of the egress, well the ingress
too but that’s how confused he his…where is it! Where is that feral …so that’s
it, he’d just keep the “bitch” for himself as she disappointedly turns out to
be the she from the drama earlier, and yes it’s a goodbye already my curiosity
wonders as much as yours too but it appears the supposed discreet chat wasn’t
discreet enough and had found its way to her ears, both of them. Now Ade makes
honest use of the ingress to a joint on john’s lips fastened by sparks, turns
out our john isn’t a john after all he snatches it while sobriety snatches him
and throws him against the floor across john who had started molling another
blunt the song immerses them in as they both puff some in undying silence until
john breaks the silence; what sup with her? She’ll be back, they all
do…eventually. Of course! So….do I really fart in my sleep? Ade nods and puffs
full this time, no I don’t. “Well” this time he reasons john won’t take just a
nod for an answer, why don’t you stay awake and figure that out yourself plus
it does undermine the snoring though. They both resign to another long hush
while…
Home
sweet home
Tonight,
tonight
I’m
on my way
Just
set me free…………………..
by Wole
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