Written boldly on most Lagos danfo bus, is the protestant phrase “No Food For Lazy Man” but what is lazy man if not a boy born out the misunderstanding of two adults without a forebearing of what the future holds so he should suffer and die while living because he has been called to be imprisoined in a body ina system of ideasl and damnation that have morphed our faces or rather masked them
They call us sissy when we show emotions and push and prod us into animals as if we are not flesh and blood
Especially here in Nigeria where they feel we should be brought to shame and lie about his homosexual attraction, to call someone gay is to say the person is beneath just because he feels attracted to the same gender, but What is gender
When a man grabs me fully by the breast and press on it, what does he hope to elicit, for even I claim to be a heterosexual man with all the balls and chains of the Igbo christian upbringing but I ask When a man hold me by the small of my back in rapt attention to my conversation what does he hope to portend
It high time we come for the dividing foibles of gender and tackle our sexuality as we should as spectrum that portray itself beautifully, so this is literally for shrug and intense concern of the who ever is “under attack”
As to get back man the human we have to take back our vulnerability and femininity from the shackles of shame and lie, told to us from eons and own a life what living.
Inclusivity is a big drug, for ever since we have decided to put hands above the shoulder of our friends we have sought for companionship camaraderie and love from complete strangers with nothing protecting us but the innocence of an eye or the willing nod of a head. And we weave our hopes on this and pray we find the tether, vivre de joi, and in sync understanding and loyalty of another that we have long for and when we don’t find we hiss our frustrations to the person and make bruxisims to cocoon our vulnerability
Sometimes I look at my boss and I know he desperately want to play a game of canters with me, I see the longing in his eyes to be my friend, but I know that in his mind he might think what if he tries to do it, what will he be met with, the fact that we consider simple and understanding friendships as slippery slopes shows how far we have fallen as a society, as a gender and as humans.
Can’t we laugh heartily once again before we die? To really be hit hard in the back of the head and be called idiot without feeling like the person has taken a jab to our standing.
These are the games we play as men, as society have created a barrier for us to look at ourselves and never really touch and feel the way we want
Can you believe that it’s all in the eyes, the trust that the next person is not out to kill you, ot that this person is not out to sabotage me, it’s all in the eyes.
But then we do have misunderstandings, and it feels like the end of the line,
Or does it?
Where does the longing come from how come the constant peer into our phone as a distraction cannot and do not replace the flimsy feeling of love that comes from the sing song saying of our names by complete strangers,
Memories are all we are and like an animal our intent, ambitions and strife are mere vulnerability to those who later see us in ether
I love my dad even though I don’t say it, I sometimes feel he act too superior some times, I want him to play football with me, If I am that adult why then do I attach pontification to petty sentimentality
Why do those stupid things matter? it does because when we go to the depth of our manliness we find nothing , absolutely nothing but empty fumes of anger that we hold our breath to keep and scare than one careless sigh my empty us of it, and we will caught dancing shaking our bums carefree without any worry and how will that make us look , stupid weak or just beautifully human
Oh I hate the lie that have been told to us as men, I hate the mask that we wear,
I want my co workers to nap on my lap while I gently comb their hair, I remember when I was small, my little cousin used to baff for me “ as he called it,
Simulation of bathing where he would make woosh sounds while he caress his little finger all over my face , shoulders and chest, I used to fall asleep to his enthusiasm and laugh sheepishly to it. I wil say baff me again, (and again Woosh )
Recently I got a hug from him and my body felt like a wall I admit that I thought to myself what a free loader he was, I forgot all he was as he too is grown now and now have demands, and needs (my eyes are stinging as I write this)
I mean where do I get off, Its so hard to give I promise you, fuck all these self help books when it comes down to it, we act like cavemen when money is involved.
Especially when it feels like you are feeding a folly
But I do want to truly live, especially as I age in this pitiful scene I have to play in modern day Nigeria, I feel I will live out the rest of my days with a mask on.
I want to believe the opinions of the man selling me things, and not say to my self oh I have been hurt I have been had again
There so much sighing and bodhisatva poses we can do to purge out the anger in our mind, but sometimes they don’t work, because we are hurt, we are truly hurt.
We can’t fall asleep at work and not think that the person next to us, will not take our picture and put it on social media
I want to trust someone, I want to share my food with people and I want them to eat it with the love and elan than makes me truly happy, and I don’t want to know that they actually had food and eat better than I do, and were just laughing behind my back
I want to give good advice and be sure that it was taken, by someone I feel need it, I also want to be given good advice even when I brag an empty self, I want someone to tell me things too, I want to know the things you know.
I want to know the music you listen to, the films you have seen, I want to share my hard drive with you and not feel like I’m lackeying hopelessly for your attention
I want you to give me money, sometimes, I get broke and need some cash, I don’t want to beg and act like a beggar for you to find understanding.
I want you to spoil me a little, I have the money but sometimes It feels good taking things from you, it feels good eating from your plate, it feels good to know I can goof around beside you.
I want to come to your house and jump on your bed while we discuss politics or the state of the economy and I want you to climb and jump on the bed too with me for life is meaningless and we are all going to die.
I want to take you to where I buy my cheap clothes and I want to see you marvel at my thriftness, and want to it to be a part of you.
I want to read my poems to you, and I deserve all of your attention
I want to take you to the places I have traveled to, Jos, Enugu, Osun and many other places, I want to play draught with you on the clay moulded draught table in Riyom.
I want to show the little beautiful beaches in Akwa Ibom where the color of the sea matches the sky in Eastern Obolo local government.
I want to lie down and sleep without sighing all my worries like the cobwebs on the ceiling only for me to wake up and adorn them back
I want to smoke marijuana with you on a Friday while I wake in your house on a Saturday teaching your daughter how to do her homework
I want to truly be, really feel, truly see and be happy with, without prejudice or discomfort, I want to do all these things because I am human and want to human.
For I don’t know what I am doing. I can assure you however, its definitely not living.
They call us sissy when we show emotions and push and prod us into animals as if we are not flesh and blood
Especially here in Nigeria where they feel we should be brought to shame and lie about his homosexual attraction, to call someone gay is to say the person is beneath just because he feels attracted to the same gender, but What is gender
When a man grabs me fully by the breast and press on it, what does he hope to elicit, for even I claim to be a heterosexual man with all the balls and chains of the Igbo christian upbringing but I ask When a man hold me by the small of my back in rapt attention to my conversation what does he hope to portend
It high time we come for the dividing foibles of gender and tackle our sexuality as we should as spectrum that portray itself beautifully, so this is literally for shrug and intense concern of the who ever is “under attack”
As to get back man the human we have to take back our vulnerability and femininity from the shackles of shame and lie, told to us from eons and own a life what living.
Inclusivity is a big drug, for ever since we have decided to put hands above the shoulder of our friends we have sought for companionship camaraderie and love from complete strangers with nothing protecting us but the innocence of an eye or the willing nod of a head. And we weave our hopes on this and pray we find the tether, vivre de joi, and in sync understanding and loyalty of another that we have long for and when we don’t find we hiss our frustrations to the person and make bruxisims to cocoon our vulnerability
Sometimes I look at my boss and I know he desperately want to play a game of canters with me, I see the longing in his eyes to be my friend, but I know that in his mind he might think what if he tries to do it, what will he be met with, the fact that we consider simple and understanding friendships as slippery slopes shows how far we have fallen as a society, as a gender and as humans.
Can’t we laugh heartily once again before we die? To really be hit hard in the back of the head and be called idiot without feeling like the person has taken a jab to our standing.
These are the games we play as men, as society have created a barrier for us to look at ourselves and never really touch and feel the way we want
Can you believe that it’s all in the eyes, the trust that the next person is not out to kill you, ot that this person is not out to sabotage me, it’s all in the eyes.
But then we do have misunderstandings, and it feels like the end of the line,
Or does it?
Where does the longing come from how come the constant peer into our phone as a distraction cannot and do not replace the flimsy feeling of love that comes from the sing song saying of our names by complete strangers,
Memories are all we are and like an animal our intent, ambitions and strife are mere vulnerability to those who later see us in ether
I love my dad even though I don’t say it, I sometimes feel he act too superior some times, I want him to play football with me, If I am that adult why then do I attach pontification to petty sentimentality
Why do those stupid things matter? it does because when we go to the depth of our manliness we find nothing , absolutely nothing but empty fumes of anger that we hold our breath to keep and scare than one careless sigh my empty us of it, and we will caught dancing shaking our bums carefree without any worry and how will that make us look , stupid weak or just beautifully human
Oh I hate the lie that have been told to us as men, I hate the mask that we wear,
I want my co workers to nap on my lap while I gently comb their hair, I remember when I was small, my little cousin used to baff for me “ as he called it,
Simulation of bathing where he would make woosh sounds while he caress his little finger all over my face , shoulders and chest, I used to fall asleep to his enthusiasm and laugh sheepishly to it. I wil say baff me again, (and again Woosh )
Recently I got a hug from him and my body felt like a wall I admit that I thought to myself what a free loader he was, I forgot all he was as he too is grown now and now have demands, and needs (my eyes are stinging as I write this)
I mean where do I get off, Its so hard to give I promise you, fuck all these self help books when it comes down to it, we act like cavemen when money is involved.
Especially when it feels like you are feeding a folly
But I do want to truly live, especially as I age in this pitiful scene I have to play in modern day Nigeria, I feel I will live out the rest of my days with a mask on.
I want to believe the opinions of the man selling me things, and not say to my self oh I have been hurt I have been had again
There so much sighing and bodhisatva poses we can do to purge out the anger in our mind, but sometimes they don’t work, because we are hurt, we are truly hurt.
We can’t fall asleep at work and not think that the person next to us, will not take our picture and put it on social media
I want to trust someone, I want to share my food with people and I want them to eat it with the love and elan than makes me truly happy, and I don’t want to know that they actually had food and eat better than I do, and were just laughing behind my back
I want to give good advice and be sure that it was taken, by someone I feel need it, I also want to be given good advice even when I brag an empty self, I want someone to tell me things too, I want to know the things you know.
I want to know the music you listen to, the films you have seen, I want to share my hard drive with you and not feel like I’m lackeying hopelessly for your attention
I want you to give me money, sometimes, I get broke and need some cash, I don’t want to beg and act like a beggar for you to find understanding.
I want you to spoil me a little, I have the money but sometimes It feels good taking things from you, it feels good eating from your plate, it feels good to know I can goof around beside you.
I want to come to your house and jump on your bed while we discuss politics or the state of the economy and I want you to climb and jump on the bed too with me for life is meaningless and we are all going to die.
I want to take you to where I buy my cheap clothes and I want to see you marvel at my thriftness, and want to it to be a part of you.
I want to read my poems to you, and I deserve all of your attention
I want to take you to the places I have traveled to, Jos, Enugu, Osun and many other places, I want to play draught with you on the clay moulded draught table in Riyom.
I want to show the little beautiful beaches in Akwa Ibom where the color of the sea matches the sky in Eastern Obolo local government.
I want to lie down and sleep without sighing all my worries like the cobwebs on the ceiling only for me to wake up and adorn them back
I want to smoke marijuana with you on a Friday while I wake in your house on a Saturday teaching your daughter how to do her homework
I want to truly be, really feel, truly see and be happy with, without prejudice or discomfort, I want to do all these things because I am human and want to human.
For I don’t know what I am doing. I can assure you however, its definitely not living.
>s
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