The Rising sphinx

With his itchy and picky fingers to touch the right spots, wandering eyes to illuminate every pore of the hairy brown and spotless skin and lecherous mind to ravish the poor and excited dame who lay on his high density mattress waiting to be devoured, the world can go take a hike in the Himalayas, a certain Asiedu can wear a corset and the economy of Ghana can crumble into shambles and he doesn’t care.

It was their first time and they have both looked forward to a time like this.  A beginning of a time that will transcend time itself; and a lingering memory thereof. Time, so right like the Republicans, mood on point like a nipple and psyche, so hyped and sustained to last as many bouts as they are willing to go. 

If there was anything called love at first sight, theirs would be one of the prototypes. The aura around them, so entrusting that no word has yet been scrutinized nor subjected to an iota of doubt. Suffice it to say, there were no trust issues. Love, so strong and binding like an adhesive, erases all forms of abuse and hardships when one falls in one. All he is preoccupied with is how to make her happy – maybe, just make himself happy.

He inched closer and breathed down her neck, exuding a warmth they will later talk about when this budding hot and sizzling ménage a deux is done and over with. It was time to give this whole tease a closure. A time to please.

With a renewed desire, he traces her lobes with a couple of fingers, down her nape to the region of her turgid and filled breasts. He cups the handful mound into his sizeable hand and slowly tightens his grip until it did not make any more sense just because he could. Just because he had to, so he can be sure it was really happening. He did because he wanted to find out the boundaries of his limitations; how far he could explore on before she asks him to stop or even asks him to intensify his antics and her feelings thereof.

He props up and slips his other hand up her thighs into the silky fabric of the lady and goes straight to her triangle in-between which sends a tingling sensation through her. She further entrusts herself into his bosom for more of his magical touches. Contrary to the awkwardness she thought, she finds herself enjoying the moment, the intense desire, his touches and fact that she feels fulfilled. To hell with those who say life is not good.

For him, it is yet another moment to revise his stance on the womenfolk. Somebody is about to rate women yet again and he is cocksure of his feelings. He was sure it was love at work. He did not even want to think that it was the cloud nine factors. His ego won’t allow him to think in that vein even though the thought brought shame to his face indicating a flash of truth. The bolting rush was so negating that his surety just went limp in an instant, probably in the same manner it arose. 

He went blank and with a sudden uncontrollable contraction of his muscles, he squeezed the breasts tighter which sent a painful spasm through her. She feels her body rip apart, opens her eyes and dies emotionally from the look she saw on his face and fact that his essential limb has suddenly gone limp.

Big deal? 

Yeah! They say it casts a daunting feeling on the psyche of women – gives them an impression of undesirableness but this couldn’t be same. He loves her and she knows that. And whoever says sustaining a hard on for a lady is the only way they can feel loved anyway. He was only fighting his own devils. He was seeing things – reel of images that are so vivid as though he was reliving them. All his escapades playing on a giant screen before his eyes; in his mind, maybe.

He was even engulfed more with the realization that his feelings for her won’t endure. He knew that too well because this is how he felt towards Bomba, Annabel, Stella, Flora, Dzifa and all the other ones before her. For once, he thought his feelings for her were different and real but it was a lie; a façade. 

Would he ever love?

*raps on the door*

The rap was so loud, untimely and intruding that it made him cringe.

Is it death himself at the door?

As much as he would love to act dumb to the raps on the door, he also needed some respite, coupled with the fact that loud music was playing from the room, indicating that someone was inside, so, he quickly wore his boxer shorts which he pulled from the pile of clothes on the bed, musters courage and answers to the unending raps on the door.

“Who dat?” He asked like the boss as he fidgets with the door only to find out it was a man and a woman clutching bags in the hollow of their shoulders.

“Excuse me Sir, do you have some time to talk about Jesus Christ. We are from the Kingdom hall of the Jehovah’s Witness”

 The writer tweets @vilejah

The beauty of writing

I know a lot of people who knew me some two years ago would have noticed an apparent change in me and it is even remarkable how they have not taken the pain to ask or pass a comment on the evolving me, but I reckon they are also working hard to finding a balance between their evolving selves. Perhaps, they don’t have time to spare. Maybe, they just don’t care or I can even die for all they care. We all have our devils to deal with.

Is that hypocrisy or plainly telling me in the face that I can go hug an ECG transformer which is bound to kill me anyway? I doubt if that’s really what the case is, because I probably may have been a part of the deadlock thus making it quite difficult for a few who could have broken through the territorial shield. 

Sometimes, I like to refer to this change in attitude as growth. I feel it is just me trotting ahead of the big run. Yeah, just like you, I also get skeptical, knowing that this big run may never come off, but I don’t give a mind as long as the trot is making me build momentum. It’s good as long as the trot occupies me and leaves me no luxury of time to sit with hands clasped in my lap. That is me growing out of group-think. That is me biding goodbye to playing to the gallery. That is me being practical with this rationality thing.

Shouldn’t things make sense to me?

I haven’t become uptight; I just cracked the code. I just chanced upon the blue print that keeps you busy all night around the round table. I am now privy to the game plan even though it threatens my very existence. I just stopped saying yes, when the answer should be a bold no. I only stopped laughing at your lame jokes. I just stopped dabbling in frivolities even though you think my absurd situation has just worsened. I know you know that, so let’s keep it on the down low.

Well, Check out if I have changed that much? I haven’t been in Church in a while and same applies to school, even though I would give anything to return to both sooner than later.  Never really been scared of death in a while, because all it does is to take my loved ones away from me. I have also taken a particular interest in how money works now, because apart from death, it is the second most factors to have scattered family and friends abroad and also because it can help me make a rippling positive impact on my generation and probably beyond.  It has simply denied us those positive vibes we used to share, but not by any means necessary.  

I haven’t read a book in a while neither have I swum in a while because I dreamt I got drowned.  Do not be too quick to conclude that I’m being superstitious. I call it trusting my instincts. Let’s just say I trust it because it is the only significant other who stays here with me through it all.

Dear Reader, before you start wondering what I’ve been up to lately, with those times and resources, then let just say, I have been finding a continual equilibrium between the old and new  me since it is being run on pilot basis. Talk about the gains and losses, the times and its related experiences and the need to delve into the nothingness; the void.

 All I do is to take a kingly ride through my Utopian alleys and rat-runs. I also like to watch the wind whirl around, while i wait for my time. I just bask in my comfort zone and watch the world go in slow motion while i ride alone in the fast lane. <cackles> I’m over speeding again.

Why do I heed if it doesn’t make sense to me?

Why do I agree if I actually disagree?

Why am I being compelled to keep appearances?

Is the unnecessary interplay between power a means to prove superiority or dominance?

Humph!

Sometimes, unnecessary thoughts such as, would we have made this stride as humanity without democracy, which prescribes the vital few to speak and eat on behalf of the masses? Thoughts like, are we ever going to have a revolutionary sort of a President who would crack the whip and save the gullible and the dying? Did Bandana have to demonstrate that unnecessary drama to be acknowledged and accepted in the Ghanaian Music Industry and beyond? Why are the Officiating Pastors still asking the newlyweds to recite same old epitaph of a wedding vow which becomes an albatross on their necks when they can actually be allowed to say a word or more to express how they actually feel before the trusting congregation? I also wonder what Rick Ross means when he says “I fuck her good”. Yeah, I keep wondering if Rick Ross could actually fuck that well and tell it to the whole world. Progressive, right? 

The aforementioned and other thoughts occupy my mind and leave me no space to even think about productive things. They make life intriguing for me. They make me want to scream. They make me want to get lost. They make me want to have power to at least, stop some of these absurdity and positively so, they make me yearn for enough wisdom to understandably navigate through this labyrinth of a life. 

As long as the fool will still be thirsty in the abundance of water and the rich man’s wealth being the center of attraction in the city, we as a people must face the truth to make life a lot easier for us. If we can stop the charade and come together as a people fighting a common enemy, and as a people synergizing to overcome our overwhelming woes, we would forever remain a hateful lot. We would supple in idiocy by rewarding bootlickers with high economic returns or even social praise. In other words, let us call a spade a spade.

Sometimes the careful and creative stringing of my real or imagined experiences plus the ability to say everything there is to say, just by creating a character makes me write these stuffs. It’s just one of my insane thoughts I would like to table before your sane mind to ponder on.

I have read some beautiful stories in my life and no matter how fictional they were, I was bound to relate to a lot of the scenes in the real world which only leaves me appraising their writing styles. I wonder how they do it so well and easily. To me, it is the flair with which they throw words about, devoid of conventional writing styles and the outstanding oddity is what becomes the icing that gives it that extra oomph which leaves the reader in admiration. It is that edifying moment when you realize that there can be endless possibilities. Even though I really wouldn't know if I was able to captivate your thought and imagination thus far, but without further ado I would like to say I was just practicing a writing style.