Follow your dreams

Follow your dreams. You might not take life seriously but life takes itself seriously and she will continue with or without you.

Your words are your dreams. Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. Countless thoughts rage through my head daily, so impolite they are as the next one doesn’t wait on the last one to end…they pile up – one on top of the other.

At every conversation I partake in a practice of letting them loose, I have to watch my tongue and be careful whom I might insult and keep watch, safeguarding what I promise – I need to practice what I preach.

I’m singing a song about the day and it’s troubles, where are the victories? I’ve left them hidden and chained – at this rate depression is inevitable.

My words are my dreams and we had a conversation the other day, you asked who I wanted to be and what I wish to achieve. I spilled it in fine detail like a work of art because that’s my favourite kind of talk – rambles from fantasies that have no consequences.

Oh but how I was wrong. The Price to pay for every spoken word is the result. If only I had known that the difference between reality and dreams lies hidden in the power of the Will – the action that leads to innovation.

Talk is cheap, the death of the mindless. Wise words bring life, healing and comfort. Wisdom is my insurance, assurance of good judgement – that’s what I seek.

Speak of the devil, the bastard shall appear, in time to devour. Don’t say I didn’t warn you – your words are your dreams.

Movie Nights

In an age where the night life seems bliss I appreciate the moments like this. I told my friends that all I need is a true Queen to kiss, I’ve found her, so tonight any other girl can count me as a miss – For tonight I’m saving the costs of the bill because I’m staying in for some genuine Netflix and Chill.

I’m counting my losses and multiplying my blessings, I mean no disrespect to those who are still chasing, but I’m done entertaining the glitter in their many shapes and sizes because I have found a diamond and I swear she’s priceless.

We were young but I wouldn’t say foolish because when you’re made for it you just have to embrace it. Yes I’m talking about turning up while your young blood is burning up for something exciting for the sake of exciting the masses and showing up at the coolest addresses.

That was the life made for a guy like me, spent more time vibing instead of hitting the library. All the things they had flashing in your face on the screens, I was always planning them behind the scenes. By now I could have been the face on magazines with a title of a young boy who caught fame like a disease. They would pay us for being the biggest party animals and then film us as we caught game with some rich boys from overseas.

Yes I was your typical one day nigga and a real day one nigga. But something unusual was always within, for example, I knew the difference between Hoe and Ho Chi Minh.

So life hit me with big questions that I relentlessly began to ponder, like if I wasted my talent what would be my answer when one day I die and go to the life-after to answer to the Mighty God seated at the alter.

Then I turned and looked around me and you were there, so patient and gentle and fair – then I wondered that maybe you weren’t just another dirty dish that I would rince a few times and leave you to wish that you had been wiser and kept your love for a true Prince.

I am that true Prince. And it’s because of you that I know this. It’s the moments like this that are truly bliss, having someone occasionally calling me Chris, reminding me that I’m not just some typical – for all your troubles one day I’ll take you somewhere tropical.

~Dedicated~

Stop Writing.

I need to stop writing because I might just be good at it. Okay maybe that’s too extreme, maybe I can just stop publishing my blog posts – they might be better off as drafts.

Yes maybe drafts are better, I can pile up all my thoughts and they will never be seen and I would never revisit them just in case I get tempted to post them and let the whole world see.

I’m surely no Shakespeare, my English is far too simple – but oh how convenient, people cannot handle complicated, they don’t even understand my previous post.

Oh snap I need to stop writing. I might just be good at it and I’ll get what I wish for; write some books and get rich and famous – then my biggest fears will come true and I’ll end up like my beloved Avicii.

Many times I never stopped to think what the consequences of success could be. Everyone who’s holding my secrets might just come and spill the beans just to get their name on the community mop and wipe away all my innocence and privacy – I don’t want to be rich and famous.

So maybe I should stop writing or maybe I can just stop making sense, I can never try being boring so I’ll start now with the mathematics that birds don’t dwell on and neither did I when I passed through the tunnel and became man and then boy and then faded into thinking – yes surely I’ve lost them and they’ll never read me again…I can continue writing never to be famous today.

Alone with Money

He could not take it anymore, the pressure and the waiting. How was he supposed to know that the money and the women would never satisfy a brewing death from within?

A big man on the brink of Obesity and his Soul is starving. Every night he does not know why his Rover isn’t enough. It’s big enough but there isn’t room for it on the road to the afterlife.

How can you blame her for thinking so smart? She’s hungry, going to bed on an empty stomach is no fitness routine. So she took this precious beauty and hung out it with a price…at least now she can see it’s value – it’s put some food in her mouth.

“I’m doing what I have to do” is what he’ll tell you. “I can’t afford to play around while accumulating these debts, I’ll get this degree just before I get rich and then I’ll take all my boys out and we’ll celebrate by the beach” – but how was he supposed to know that thinking for the future could cost him the gift that was the present and now the boys are no more, they’ve moved on with their wives…

And now you’ve got an old man chasing around young girls trying to make up for his wasted days of youth. But his body is not the same now, the alcohol doesn’t go down as it used to – now lying on a hospital bed with nobody by his side…

How was he supposed to know that he needed somebody that would care to be there? How was he supposed to know he needed somebody for better or for worse?

The Boys in Africa

I couldn’t believe in time travel until I realised it was simply being explained the wrong way. Numbers and fancy science sound smart but look around you it’s all in your face.

Heritage and culture are vital. It is shameful to forget these principles, if you do – you are lost and we won’t waste time letting you know. You’re African bro, you need to behave like It, sound like it and be proud of it.

There are no boys in Africa, only men. You need to provide bro, there’s no time to “find yourself”. Come to the city, up the street and downtown the gents hustle. Your friend might make a fortune and you cannot afford to fail. One way or another, you need that money bro.

BOOM! It’s Globalization all up in your face bro. Hollywood and Wall Street have taken over. “While I had no money I still had Sauce. If you ain’t got no sauce then you Lost”. So we run up to the College to get these degrees – but we can’t even afford these fees.

It’s no use writing these truths, or even having the consciousness to see it…because as along as I cannot get the rhythm and beat, I’ll never afford something to eat. The Boys are into Fashion these days mama, success is measured by Instagram Likes.

I’m beginning to feel out of place and unwelcome, because I started treating women with respect and they started calling me weak. I tried to help prevent the same fate for the next generation and then my grades fell…but for some reason it came with no regrets because I don’t want to gain the world while losing my soul.

O’ mama, maybe if Daddy never left us the boys in Africa would have had a back-bone, a role model to hold onto, a prototype to imitate. But I guess he too was lured by the changing times, the freedom to follow his dreams, practice his Constitutional rights and “Find himself”. And then you had to work overtime to school us and win-some-bread.

You left us home with a gift though, entertainment on television to keep us happy. That’s when Lil-Wayne became a father figure and Facebook my playground where I downloaded so many friends who wished me happy birthday – none was there to share my cake…but that’s nothing new, it’s just the life of The Boys in Africa, “Thank you Tata Mandela”.

A Message from Below…

It only takes a moment for a story to be told for a life-time.

So there I was asleep in the dark surrounded by four brave walls and cushioned by a single bed positioned in one of the corners. I dont have much of a pillow left but as long as I can keep the pillow case on, I’ve got enough to dream on.

He’s got guts of steel, that much I have to give him. But I need to find something to give him from my heart. I dig deep and all I can find is Pity. Pity and a Prayer – that much he has earned. My respect he decided he does not need, and my phone he stole!

So I was asleep one Monday night relieved thinking I had made it through the day that nobody loves to participate in. Deep in the night he creeped in and I must have been just as deep in sleep when I didn’t hear him temper with the window.

Clearly I don’t have good hearing, but I surely have the nose to smell a rat. And that’s when it hit me, I was not alone in my private space. I opened my eyes to the sight of his dark figure and in an instant I exploded into shouts of hope – trying to make it as scary as possible and it worked, when faced with fight or flight the coward was out in a flash…not that I was particularly keen on a fight, you know, I was barely awake.

So he jumped out of the window from which he entered and with him – my phone he stole. He must be gutted, that was all he could get his hands on. But I must be even more relieved that he did not manage to get his dirty hands on my soul.

He’s cost me a full month without my phone and without it I simply cannot blog. My blog to me is like I’m writing a special text to a friend, to you…and I just can’t do that on the laptop for some reason. But in that month I learnt a lot and God has been faithful and the phone has been replaced and I could have cried many nights over that phone and still I would have been here right now with a smile in my heart.

So I wanna tell you this story from the bottom, the place where you feel like your good deeds are never seen while your mistakes are never missed, I have been there and I come now with a lesson: you cannot jump unless you first get a good launch – you cannot launch until you get on your feet and it only takes a moment for a story to be told for a lifetime.

It’s all in the journey of life, in my constant battle as a young-adult and coming to terms with maturity, I am slowly seeing that not everything is as bad or good as it seems, the excitement is in finding out which one it is and the growth is in determining which one you emphasise.

Catch your heartbeat

I’m trying to write something to catch your heartbeat but you prefer crude lines on a trap beat.

What could I say to remind you of the time when you used to believe in love? Which cords in your heart do I need to tap into to get you feeling again?

Can I be honest? It hurts me that you’re a savage and you’re so good at it. You used to believe in fairytales and maybe that’s where it went wrong…when you grew older and realised that you weren’t the only girl who wore a size five, then Prince Charming stopped looking and went to the Club instead.

I wish there wasn’t such great distance between us – you’ll tell me you’re next door but that’s nothing compared to where you really see yourself – lost in a metropolis, missing the turn, caught in the crowd but you’re afraid to cry for help because tears ruin your make up.

Oh sister you lost your spirit when you stopped trusting in God don’t lose your soul too…that’s all we ever had in Africa – For every dollar that we didn’t have we had one another and another had the one.

Look at your history, dreamers and believers who lost theirs so that you can have yours. Your parents were there when the gates opened for us and they built their house for you, paid their taxes so that you no longer walk the gravel and it pains me to see you forgetting, or maybe just not caring while allowing the good times to get the better of you.

Wait, what good times? It’s just sad times – so much blood shed so that you can own your body then you went and sold it for a bottle of Henny. Victoria’s Secrets to reveal your prized assets, they’re calling you dumb and you’re nodding

But I’m trying to catch your heartbeat because Oh woman – you with such connection to the mystical – your body chosen to carry life from the Heavens to the Earth, your children are crying out. Your sons need to respect you…you need to take up your Queen status and sit up your Throne.

Reason

“Life is a Journey to be experienced, not a Problem to be solved”… Sounds easy and quite delightful, but a good Journeyman should remember that it helps to have a destination. Still if you don’t – I’m pretty sure nobody wants to end in a deadend with nothing to show for the Journey.

Popular Pop-Star Katy Perry admitted it once in a song, “I stood for nothing so I fell for everything”. In this Journey called Life there’s sometimes roads that go high and low, you can also expect wet and slippery terrains when it rains – what I’m trying to say is just Prepare to go slow in the snow… expect it all because which ever route you choose, you are the one who will clean the mud from under the boots.

Everybody has a dream. A dream to travel around the world, a dream to travel out of the world and according to cartoons, some even have the dream to destroy the world.

It doesn’t matter what the dream is, if you really want to make it happen then you are going to need to take control of your Journey. Too many of us allow life and circumstance to dictate where we end up…and all we have to show for it are reasons pronounced mostly in a drunken state at family gatherings about why our dreams were never born – it’s mostly because living young, wild and free wasn’t so free no more once that diaper isle became your reality.

It’s not that surprising though. In this capitalistic world-wide jungle run by politics… where politicians play role model and empty promises are job descriptions- I actually found (in my imagination) that the word “reason” no longer exists on this earth. Instead, an identity thief has been running around in reason’s body tormenting hopes and simply holding us back from our potential…his true name is Excuses.

Excuses are a result of a lack of faith and hard work. A life lived without direction is bound to spiral out of control. It’s bound to be a life of explanations and Excuses.

But still in my pursuit to give my life some direction – I spend countless hours thinking up ways to better my situation. Thinking to myself “Maybe I should find a magazine to publish my writing” (Am I even good enough?)…But that period in faith doesn’t last forever and if delayed, it quickly turns into fear and that is where the battle for Dreams gets lost.

So then I find myself in a dilemma. Wisdom or Foolishness? Whether or not I choose a life of direction, I still find myself in a constant tangle. I’m wondering if I should take it easy, put on my sandals and avoid getting tied up in some sweaty running shoes…

Maybe that’s where I went wrong, I’m trying too hard to understand my choices, when maybe I should just believe in my decisions and not fear failure so much.