tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273030656252274312024-02-20T00:32:10.719-08:00The Idle LaureateS. Okundayehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17550237174193549265noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327303065625227431.post-75736335576332821072012-01-22T16:14:00.000-08:002012-01-22T16:14:01.540-08:00Plea of Loneliness<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Drifting across the impersonal horizon of my life</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Is my mind, body, disconnected from all.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Multitudes surround me, heightening my isolation and</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The coldness that enshrouds me is too much, too much.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So how about you and I walk away, have a chat perhaps?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">No?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ah well that’s okay, I’ll hurt on my own, and</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Wait.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Perhaps until someone else comes along, or perhaps…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hmmm.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When will I grow tired of waiting? Am I a glutton?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I indulge in punishing myself over empty bonds,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Artificially crafted in this head that controls my body.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yet this same head blurs the lines between them and me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I hope. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I pray that I wake up from this conscious coma and</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Learn to appreciate those who kindly surround me.</div>S. Okundayehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17550237174193549265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327303065625227431.post-6060064815550793122012-01-22T15:48:00.000-08:002012-01-22T15:49:14.371-08:00Oh hello...Having gotten over my writer's block (as if I'm good enough to even call it that trolololol) I have decided to resurrect this blog in which I hope to post literature written by yours truly. No doubt during the dormant period nobody so much as glanced at this blog but perhaps that will change? We shall see. That being said I do have to wonder, as I write this, why I am writing as if I have a large following. I may as well be giving a speech in an empty theatre or painting pretentious surrealist art in the middle of Primark Coventry. Nevertheless if you are reading this then welcome! Hopefully you enjoy what I write in these coming months (years? decades?), and please try to turn a blind eye to my previous posts, I am fully aware of the fact that they are crap. That being said I'm pretty sure that anything I do put up on here will be crap and sniggered at by anyone who stumbles upon this blog. Meh, like I said, we shall see...S. Okundayehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17550237174193549265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327303065625227431.post-10708408018746957892011-03-18T17:17:00.001-07:002011-03-18T17:18:51.804-07:00First Bit of Prose...<u style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Keeping Up Appearances</b></u><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I really do hate it when people talk to me about their life story. It bores me to tears when someone feels the need to fill me in on the goings on in their local country club. I do not care that the Hadleys’ youngest child has left for college nor does it interest me that Mick Miller has a new twenty-something trophy that he flashes to anyone who will listen. The conversation this evening truly is dire, she is wittering on at me at this very moment. She is so caught up in her dull conversation that she does not even notice the glaze over my eyes or the vacuous nods to show that I am pretending to listen. Mrs Cumberledge is always one to gossip about nothing Helen had said the last time I was dragged into conversation with this dreadful woman. I am Helen’s boyfriend and so it is a must that she flaunts me to all of her friends and fellow members of this bourgeoisie. She is a quite a peculiar character, Helen. We have known each other since our time at The Marion Westwood School in Boston, where we were in the same tutor group. She played lacrosse whilst my time on the green was spent mostly running and playing as little football as possible. Helen and I didn’t actually start dating until seniors and this remains our alliance till this day. She is not beautiful. By no means is she ugly, oh God of course not, but she isn’t beautiful. Just ordinary… </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">She has just mentioned Helen, do I pretend look interested? No, just stare blankly. Hmm… that necklace looks cheap. My God, can you believe it? How many people in South Africa did it take to mine that? Zero I would bet as that is obviously gold plated, oh times must be desperately hard. Can you believe she spends her time going on and on about others’ monetary affairs and yet she fucking manages to wear cheap metal on her neck with pride. God she reeks of fraudulence. No doubt if I interrupt her now and ask her about that thing she will tell me that it is an old family heirloom. Hmm, I will ask her. Oh it is an old family heirloom, she says, yes I can tell, it is just so beautiful. God I hate people like her, back in freshman year I had a roommate like her. He came from quite a wealthy family, not that wealthy, but enough to bluff his way into the most exclusive fraternities. He had the most awful pair of shoes, scuffed and never polished. I think he did it intentionally to avert attention away from his father’s large donation to Harvard Law School. Obviously wanted to appear like any other John Smith but that was not the case when it came to the Porcellian. How he was allowed to join is beyond me, it makes me so angry. I wish I had ju– and here comes Helen. Hand on my shoulder, she will come to my left side and hold my, yes there she is, holding my hand. Probably will not have the decency to take me away from this conversation. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well at least she has diverted the woman’s attention to herself. What time is it? Twenty two past eleven, good. We will be gone in an hour or so. That reminds me, I need to buy Clara something when I see her tomorrow. Just to keep her from whining about my not seeing her today. That woman is becoming a burden but she serves her purpose. For now at least, till I can find an alternative though this one will be difficult to get rid of. May even start talking to Helen and I cannot have that. The material that this woman with her fake gold would have would be enough to make me cry. Oh Miller is leaving, that girl is quite attractive, unlucky her. Perhaps I will be introduced to her next time. Oh good, Helen is apologising now, we are leaving. Just as well because I could not take that woman or any of these people any longer. Awful people. </span>S. Okundayehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17550237174193549265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327303065625227431.post-10949931768914618422011-03-16T06:39:00.000-07:002011-03-16T06:39:16.651-07:00Browning, love... Don't read into it.<strong><u><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I Love You</span></u></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Your flawless, floor length hair would make for a perfect noose,<br />
Your eyes are the deepest blue, like a marina; you can drown in them.<br />
That nose with its perfect tilt protrudes out and stabs my eye,<br />
Whilst your lips are a perfect red, drenched with the blood of my neck<br />
And acid spews when your lips part, dissolving my soul, but not my love.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">How long will that neck be without my hands? Perhaps until I remove my lips.<br />
You with those two breasts upon your chest, that I rest my head on<br />
Whilst you lift up those long, weightless arms, dagger ready in hand.<br />
You put my hands around your waist; I run them down those voluptuous hips.<br />
But before I even get to your legs, you impale me with the stiletto I bought you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yet I will forever be enamoured with you and your body, though time<br />
Will tell if this novelty wears off whilst it remains forever lifeless,<br />
Though need I remind you that you have been so, long before my hands<br />
Cut away at the life you live and keep you docile on my bed, whilst <br />
I show you love that you neglected to show me, God will not say a word.</span>S. Okundayehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17550237174193549265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327303065625227431.post-19449167225134614092011-03-15T15:43:00.000-07:002011-03-15T15:43:41.058-07:00Love and summer, albeit a bit early.<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><u><b>Our Summer of Love</b></u> </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Your golden locks caress my chest as you and I frolic on the green,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Losing ourselves in this welcome wave of heat like a couple of fools.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As we continue to exchange moisture we do not notice the love in the air,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Two bees zig zag over our heads, caught up in their own minute world.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">These star crossed lovers reach their destination, daffodils in full bloom,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Where they harvest the sweet nectar and conjugate with blissful abandon.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yet like us they do not see that they aren’t the only ones, who are drunk,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Intoxicated by the beams of light that perpetuate during this time of year.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The daffodils, the tulips, the carnations all blossom from the ejected seed,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Spawned by their predecessors with the assistance of wind and wings. </span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Soon it will be their turn to disperse their offspring and watch them grow,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thanking the sun for this glorious season in which they can flourish.</span><br />
<br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We need not lament our ignorance for this is something to marvel,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Knowing would simply make us lose the spontaneity of our ways.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For every time you and I play on the grass like teenage kids,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And the bees continue the serve their queen and their appetites,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And the flowers continue to perpetuate their circle of life,</span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We are all playing our part in this multi-coloured summer of love.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Yeah this is bad.</span>S. Okundayehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17550237174193549265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327303065625227431.post-92144984901641774482011-03-15T12:43:00.001-07:002011-03-15T13:55:08.771-07:00My First Poem... Recent Events In Japan...<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u>Horses</u><br />
</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We sat to watch the Grand National.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We bit our nails, we ate our meals, hushed </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As the coverage panned out of our screens. Behind</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The screen, a thousand miles away, the ground had</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Rumbled and the white horses had begun their gallop.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We sat awed as the horses reached the finishing line.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The horses were no longer white; black with the stench of death</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As wood and horse collided with startling speed, we thought</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Not of the lost but of the scale of nature’s Pandora</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That does not infringe on our hazardless lives.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So are we concerned or are we voyeurs?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We the desensitised to the Earth’s bitter seed,</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That disperses with no warning, wrecking homes and lives,</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Whilst we think not of the ocean’s murder but instead</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Its mighty power, we the seekers disaster porn.</div>S. Okundayehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17550237174193549265noreply@blogger.com0