Saturday Evening Study break: A Dialogue with Mr. Adekanye

Dim stage. Single wooden butcher's block table flanked by two antique ladder back chairs on each end. Kayode and Amarachi enter and sit silently with a half empty bottle of 1952 Macallan single malt scotch between them.

K: It is the tragedy of misplaced timing: he loved her first and bled for her...she loved him with a heart riddled with doubts and now that love has overcome the fear & the sweetness comes easy...it is too late because they have lost each other to the bad parts of each other in a 3 year guerilla warfare equal part tenderness equal part bitterness.

Nothing ever prepares you for the double edged sword that love can be, it can give you wings and it can rend your soul into fragments of emptiness. When the wings unfold is when there are no vistas to fly to, when the wind is blowing is when it is snowing in your soul and you cannot fly but huddle in fear and remorse....

(kayode falls silent)

A: But we love still...finger pads screaming...railing against the writing of yet another useless email...pecking out yet another foolish blackberry message...red light spider indicator sending yet another missive to another maybe false champion of your maybe misplaced, maladroit attempt to find another who understands your soul..one who can...play the entire string section to your heartbeat's orchestra...(derisive laugh)...and there is that crazed bagpipe scurl of what may be...dirge singing your heart back into..silent death or...triumphant occupation of hearth built stone for stone by identically calloused yet hopeful hearts...

I have long come to accept that I exist in a world where very few understand my name...but the thought that my mate will remain in ignorant miseducation brought on by...season after season of failed foray into love's cruel circus...lulled into desperate silence... that he will be alone...angry and impotent with the thought that I do not exist...that God somehow forgot to make me for him...will kill me...and so to save myself from my death...I must continue to claw through this mass of misanthropes...until i clasp the hand my Maker made to fit...perfectly within my own...

The words you speak are familiar dearest Kayode...and I understand the disgust you feel each time yet another advance devolves into chaotic bullshit...but I remain determined to unfurl my limbs from their clamped rictus of grotesque new pain...and attempt to turn each of these snowstorms you speak of into fire diamond rain...I mean..what the hell else are we supposed to do?

(And scene)

..and so it begins...!

...like fire-ants wild from a wild bushfire..we careen towards our destinies in what is becoming an unreal insistence on the rescue of this world that we have killed...fascinated by the exquisite pain...how can we deny loud ringing in that lonely corner of our brains that...is calling for a halt...to this strange need to be saviors of a lost idea...it all needs to start again...if we really want things to change.

…it is the deliberateness of the thing…

Let’s take a train trip to this our...so-called eternity and back love…

buy passage to a delightfully blended world of…

…avid, mortifying affection that demands a crippling strength

to acceptance of the thing that will break me …and let you in…

to places that enchant with… disquieting sound…creeping tendrils of

…all surrounding sound…arias that lull into love…

yes...i know i am on causeway of …fast free flow of

ultimately useless endearment…

careening towards a fragile forever….

and yes...full knowledge that you do not possess power to promise my happiness does not bring halt to this my... maybe foolhardy free fall into you…

…but know that you also…must choose to stay at each stop…

because you see….it will end well…only if it ends with us.

My King and I

it is a circular love

this love that you have for me…

endless in its measure

it roams for miles around my world and

brings me…sweet-meats from every shore…

my room is filled with…demonstrations of your ardor…

you adore…/

when you…..flood my senses with…rich reed scent of that Nile…/

as you/…cover my rough places...

with...finest shea-butter from Gambia’s baobab tapper…coaxing skin of my brow into…./love faces

and you…. whisper to me with anglo-franco symphony… polyglot of Zim and Zaire

your presence brings sweetness to my soul…/sighing endless breaths into soulful song…/I sing your praises to life in my life…..

I think on it endlessly…and still/…I have no memory of my life before you…

You give me power in prayer…/a love for this life…/and great expectations for forever….

...with you...

so...abide with me my love…

…and only go….if you take me with you.

sport

…now that you have opened your face to the way things are…in this place…

now/...we can truly play this game of/…professional love…

unconditional discovery of each stone that makes this…pleasure mountain…so great…

I cannot wait to show you how to find the peaks….as your fingers play hide and seek…/

within each crevice of this supple rock face…/we are finding dim caves of brave secrets…/plant your flag on this place my friend….mark your territory…

…for this land is mine…it is yours…it is ours.

...for this my bond-man in Bristol...

we spoke...124...or ....maybe more... sixty second tick-tocks...
like rush of breath...it came and went...
and again we.../ covered the space in this age when
we were gone from each other...
...and again..it felt like it was just
yesterday...
when we last joined our tongues in...
song and dance of verbal mah jong...
connecting matching wall paper squares like...
....children joined at the hip...like water-baby mer-babies...free-fall-flow... our syllables made...
pretty patchwork portraits of those..../moments in our lives...
we had missed....
before we spoke....
i will...see you in your room in Bristol tonight...behind your closed eyes
beloved...and we will live in our/sacred hiding place...
until the next time we speak.

...it is the inevitability of the thing...

It is our weakness that joins us

our last ditch effort to

hold some sort of connection with our…

two for one fantastic reality…

we lay about us…

with imagined sobriety…mouse traps

Set to catch us before…. we fall again

Into that familiar unfortunate eden

Mirage-like oasis…gone too quickly

Strong long strokes in… endless sea of compromise

we do not know when the final call will blow

signaling the end of our summer swim meet..

an away game where… no one could possibly win..

our consolation remains in the thought that

we have a date with two root-beer floats in Miss. Jessie’s diner

you and I

that yet again….we will meet at the end

you and i.

olofofo

it was a small thing…
no direct words…no obvious look…
it was... the small things…flicker of his right eye-lid…
minuscule flaring of his nostrils…
quickened pulse in left temple…and I knew
it was time to make for the door…
leaving behind ...foul fragrance of my falsehood…
I watched my soul-man disintegrate before my eyes…
...he knew…
How?…I don’t know…
was it fresh smell of fresh foreign saliva…lingering on my…
freshly kissed lower lip…
Was it…
new crease on my…delicately woven scarf…Hermes bond of truth…
come ever so slightly undone…
Or was it…residue of flesh under my...tapered fingernails…
remnants of rawness shut-off behind closed door of…
...the linen closet he had watched me steal through…
mere minutes before…
It was the small things….
Heightened sensation on finger pulse-points from all sides…sought to point me out…
Find me out…
Flushed out by deep flush on my cheeks…
I welcomed the cold night….beneath my skirt…
Still warm from passion incomplete…
Frozen dis-satisfaction…
I sat frozen on leather seat of desire misfired…
Final engine rev of resolve carried me away into night colored with ink smoke…
And I resolved to put an end to it…tomorrow.

chatter

Words railing against railings of strictured silence

It is still a struggle to

Put through this pen-ultimate vehicle

These things that talk inside of these fore-corners

So I strip my mind of it’s lethargy and

Wear the conspiracy of thought and action

As talisman about my neck

Nestled within that hollowed movement

Throbbing gong of warning…

Telling all bearers of false news to

Stay away

For I want, this day, to speak only the truth.

Once upon a time in the city of Jos.

Water clot in my neck…is…/thick knot of tears for Danladi’s mother…

….whose dust filled screams echo in blue black night…long after they both died …ten seconds apart…/ “who will milk the goats tomorrow morning Danladi if you die today…/who will bring Baba’s kunu Danladi…if you die today…/who will wash pebbles at the well with Sundiata… Danladi if you die today.../who will….”

…he could smell her fear…Danladi could…the putrid scent of her shit…her very bowels sending up supplication to the marauders from hell… as she begged for the fire to fall on him first…so…her son would not see her burn…/he could still hear crunch of his father’s skull unfamiliar with the heel of an intruder’s boot…/proud silent death without a word of complaint…

he could still hear…./ “who will take Hajja-mama to the mosque Danladi…if you die today…/how will you go to school Danladi…if you die today…./who will carry Baba’s name Danladi…if you die today…/all life will change Danladi…nothing will be the same Danladi…if you die today….”

I release tears that join the rush of the Benue....let us meet the Niger at Lokoja…and pray at this eternal binding knot of earth and water…for the souls …of all the sons of this our Plateau. 

call to kill a king

Look at us…caught in our own nets.../powerless marionettes…slaves to the rot we bore that now…feeds the sores in our own souls…/how can we exclaim at the salacious words we spoke into our own existence…how can we…deceive our own children…/we beneficiaries of our father’s victories…we have turned from our inheritance…/gifted it to our pallbearers…who now carry righteous spirit of our ancestors as charred refrain of their death songs…. /we rail at the nonchalance of our leaders…/leaking gourd of our fountain head…/oozing suppuration of a false…rotten imagery…close to his death…./what is this we are crying for!!!...../natural order of things is handing us deliverance from…misguided selection…/corroded semblance of a structure once proud….now run aground.../let us realize the possibility within grasp of all who have the slightest will and reach.../and catch a new dream…/leave behind the wastrel heirs of these past years…/find a way to kill this imposter…/and crown a king that this generation can adore.

shutter release: part une

each day gives..greater gift of time

i have called key to my release away from your hands
and by God... i do declare that i feel free
i am ...emptied of image of my face next to yours
this aimless chase
has ended in what it would only
ever have brought...
death to whatever truth is in my soul
death to brave expression of limitless sensation
death to the call of seemless possibility
life of wonder is in my power to safekeep
and i have locked it away in a place
your darkness can never reach

each day you grow even more unnecessary.

Funsho

it is in these quiet pockets of sweetness/when you...draw me inside circle under your chin that i...remember why i keep you close...you.../lover of my soul...you... peace keeper.../you garnish my...darkest thoughts with...slivers of your.../sweet affection...you/bring to resurrection.../image of how your brown ribbed palm covers...nape of my neck...and them some.../whiskers caress my ear as whispers fill the air...and you/tell me how you adore me.../and through haze of morbid wondering.../through phase of sharp rebirth...you remind me again...to remember to love.../as hard as you love me.../to breathe life to my own breast....to...marshal senses that bring me to place of my senseless passion.../call my pleasure to attention.../to remember you....and how your love is better than life.

...i remember you.

when i grow up

and i speak with... resolute profoundness that belies my years.../what is this sound that has made me glad.../
i am inside waterfall hidden cavern../thundering pillar of power thrusts me into womb carved by the finger of God.../hound dogs are dead.../pursued only by my desire to hear laughter at my funeral.../fireworks at my passing.../charitable memories of me.../the child i touched...the daughter i delivered.../the laughter i wrought.../oh to be bringer of love to a hut full of hurt and bad knowledge.../i want to murder the marauders of childhood virtue.../mad longing for saving grace for the world...drives me on.../like the waves from this here cave..../strong.../i embrace my desire to be great.

let's

new footsteps
new dawn clouds
new fingerprints
tight drawstrings
mountain side car rides
new taste...new race..that ripe new love..on new face
bold dance...consistent partner...my honest soldier...your true heart
come august/new town...
locked in your mind...red wine...dark cafe
never so far from last darkness as i am now
just ahead
welcome.

herald

i am
spirit roused to song
confession seat
i have heard the hurt of saints
i am
beginnings of masterpiece in black and white
deep secret contours...burst of blue light
i am
obatala's head peice
carved out for greatness...ageless
i am
olodumare's vessel of life
one endless orgasm...one and only wife
i am
foolish in love...quick to forgive
master of my heart...captain of my fleet
i am
servant of the Life Giver
soldier for the sinner
born of a Prince...now daughter of the King

come and see these things that make me strong
am i not true child of my father.

...and scene.

silent song in my head...verses from
Sola
Bach
images from Goya
my chemical romance now dead fire and shards of ice
murdered memory of black monster
my hard heart invites a felony
taunting you to steal this decade's resolution
wide open holes in my brain let in refrain of
this new sound
found myself again just in time
innoculated against foolish lust
now (sardonic laugh)
make me love you if you dare.