Think wit me a while.
Deeply. Shut shallowness out
Stick with me
Tenderly. Dont get too stuck.
Lets leave now.
We will return soon.
One day. Not today.
Not tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow
Lets entwine thoughts
and merge hearts.
No words.
No speech.
Just thoughts.
I'm waiting so hurry.
I won't let you down
but you can and i won't forgive.
Take a minute...
Take two...
Leave the third for me.
I'll wait.
Not for so long.
-Chizitere.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Em... What do you think?
I find it rather difficult to concentrate these days.
Seems like my head is a jungle of ideas, most of them wierd to the normal human being. I've been workng on the same book for over two months now and I'm still stuck at the same place. It feels like i have been cursed to always end my stories at chapter four or five. I want to know if its the same for every writer or if my case is different, because i need to get out of the situation real quick.
Recently, I've been through one wahala, heartache, market, something or another. I know we are bound to have switches in life but it seems like mine have become too frequent and 'switchy'. More or less like a member of my personal family.
I'm not writing this to find pity, but I hope to find answers with this here.
A lot of good things have come too and i always wish they could just last forever.
*gimme a minute let me take this call....
Oh back to what we were hearing and I was saying. I dont know what else to say. I guess the phone call took some of my memory with it.*Jumoke help!!! I need memory!!! Lol! sick joke!
Let me end with a short poem then.
Peace can't chop me into pieces
War wore me once.
I had to forget myself for a while,
still i forgot you.
Judge me but don't pass a verdict
I'm slimy and uneasy to predict
so you might just be wrong.
Even if i fit into your dreams
you're still not in control.
*Is this makng sense?
Hold it!
Don't tell me i think it is.
Scribble me away...
I'll scribble you down
Thats my kind of exchange
so deal with it!
My eyes are wide open,
tears have even began to fall
out of them.
I won't close them till
you fade away.
I leave you in peaceful
pieces!
I count no loss.
-Chizitere.
You dont always have to find a connection or meaning for my poems. The words always disturb my head so i just spit them like they are. If you get something out of my poems, then its good. Good for you... Good for me...
Seems like my head is a jungle of ideas, most of them wierd to the normal human being. I've been workng on the same book for over two months now and I'm still stuck at the same place. It feels like i have been cursed to always end my stories at chapter four or five. I want to know if its the same for every writer or if my case is different, because i need to get out of the situation real quick.
Recently, I've been through one wahala, heartache, market, something or another. I know we are bound to have switches in life but it seems like mine have become too frequent and 'switchy'. More or less like a member of my personal family.
I'm not writing this to find pity, but I hope to find answers with this here.
A lot of good things have come too and i always wish they could just last forever.
*gimme a minute let me take this call....
Oh back to what we were hearing and I was saying. I dont know what else to say. I guess the phone call took some of my memory with it.*Jumoke help!!! I need memory!!! Lol! sick joke!
Let me end with a short poem then.
Peace can't chop me into pieces
War wore me once.
I had to forget myself for a while,
still i forgot you.
Judge me but don't pass a verdict
I'm slimy and uneasy to predict
so you might just be wrong.
Even if i fit into your dreams
you're still not in control.
*Is this makng sense?
Hold it!
Don't tell me i think it is.
Scribble me away...
I'll scribble you down
Thats my kind of exchange
so deal with it!
My eyes are wide open,
tears have even began to fall
out of them.
I won't close them till
you fade away.
I leave you in peaceful
pieces!
I count no loss.
-Chizitere.
You dont always have to find a connection or meaning for my poems. The words always disturb my head so i just spit them like they are. If you get something out of my poems, then its good. Good for you... Good for me...
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