When There is Nothing to Say
when all the words
I've chiseled out of myself,
break the surface of flesh,
and I bleed out the blackened scabs,
I'll stand naked in the light,
and look down
on my shotgun-shadow,
and see myself for the first time
in a mirror made of dirt.
and I will build a rake made from the bones
of empty pens to scratch the itch
of phantom phrases,
ones cut off long ago,
before I really knew how to use them.
and I will erase my ink with flame,
and filter the fumes through myself
in one final attempt to say it all
in signals of smoke that rise up
until sunrise smells like death
and looks like the silhouette
lying on the ground before me.
[1]
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it."
Mr. Bennet made no answer.
"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.
"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
This was invitation enough.
"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week."
"What is his name?"
"Bingley."
"Is he married or single?"
"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? How can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."
"Is that his design in settling here?"
"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."
"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the party."
"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."
"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."
"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the neighbourhood."
"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."
"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not."
"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."
"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference."
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters."
"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves."
"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least."
"Ah, you do not know what I suffer."
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."
"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them."
"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.
Ethereal
Somehow I knew you before
in a cottage;
in tepid water;
in the absence,
waiting in
songs,
stories,
my own prayers,
and in dreams detailing
small snippets of the to-be
like clippings of newspaper.
I thought I’d lost you,
and I waded through hail
and quicksand,
trying to dig deeper,
but I hadn’t met you yet,
so when I started to remember
these sounds
sleeping in my mind
I knew I had to trek back.
Your voice plays,
like a record long saved, tucked away,
playing as it did the very first time;
each touch, a step
to a dance I always loved
but convinced myself I’d forgotten;
your smile, a comfort lost in childhood
somewhere,
a sun shining in my memories,
and I knew I recognized it.
You had to be ethereal.
Who is @James
My name is Ogungbesan Adedoyinsola, I am 20 years old. I was born in Lagos state, Nigeria. And I have lived in Lagos, since I was born.
Sometime many years ago, I was diagnosed with cerebral malaria and had serious episodes of convulsions. After undergoing several blood transfusion. My condition became critical, I was in comma for nearly a week. Hours to when the doctors concluded that it best I was let to rest. The life that everyone thought had ended, opened my eyes.
It took me time to fully recover, but after few years I was fully functional, but had lost some vital memories of my childhood. I got along just fine and friends in school. But my home was not in order. My dad, who is always smoking and drinking had a hot temper, my mom who claims she did not marry my father out of love. She was raped by father when she was 18 years or so, got pregnant and was forced to marry the father of the baby in her womb. Due, to family heritage and respect. She became his bride.
The baby in her womb, that is my older sister, the first of four children.
The rest are boys, and I happen to be the last of them all.
My mom left my father when I was a baby, to raise us by herself and with the help of her father, who later died that very year.
She struggled to put us in school, with little help from friends and family, to manage through hard times.
My sister graduated from college years after, only to start my mothers life cycle, in a more fetish way. She's with two daughters now and no job. Her husband also does not have a constant job. Seriously I don't know what he does. You can tell from the look of her first daughter that they're malnourished.
My older brother, the first boy is currently serving in Kano state as an interim Economics teacher, which ends sometime in September. He has no actual plan for his life, and he his gradually walking in the footsteps of my father. Not caring for his well being psychologically, chain of girl friends, etc.
The second boy, did well for himself, but failed to achieve the goal he had set for himself, due to peer pressure. He works in a bank, but his consciousness to the things of the world, is gradually taking him on a downward heel.
I, the most stubborn of all, have looked into the steps of my predecessor and noticed that, if I continue in this environment, I would likely end up like them. So I stopped going to class. Because I must rewrite my family history. I sit in the library all day thinking of things I can do, not to end up like them. I sleep at the staircase towards the library. My life is totally isolated from everyone. I had to stop going to class because the state of my country is dire, the future is bleak. The same thing happens again and again.
I don't want to end up as poor as my family is. So all the post I have on prose are done with tears and hope. I sleep most of the night very hungry. Sometimes I beg, so that I have to live to survive another day. I believe I can change the world, but, I cannot do so from where I am. I have worn a single trouser for over month now. To be fair, prose is all have. The money I should use to eat, I use it to prose. I need a change in environment. This is a cry from my innermost heart. If you're out there and you can take me from this forsaken place, please help me. I'm a man broke with a smiling teeth.
