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Posts tagged “Love

The Unknown End

Pursue The Unknown End

When you branch out, you do this.

When you try different things, you do this.

When you thirst for something, beyond the usual.

Beyond the mundane.

You pursue the unknown end.

When you set sail, and plot a course,

beyond the prescribed route, you do this.

It is a route fraught with unseen pitfalls

and often meandering trails.

Yet, it is the route you must take,

when you seek to pursue the unknown end.

And why?

Why must you do this?

Why must you leave the comfortable?

Why must you leave the unknown,

and cleave to the unknown?

We must leave, because it is comfortable.

We must leave, because it is known.

And we reach for the unknown,

because it is unknown.

There are things to be seen, that these eyes wish to see.

There are tongues that these ears wish to hear.

And passions to quicken this heart.

So when the shores recede and doubts proceed,

to buffet as we try to make headway.

We cling to this purpose.

We cling to this lifeline.

This line to hope.

Keeps us afloat.

Keeps us fighting.

And reminds us of why we set sail.

We set sail so we might quiver.

We set sail so we might touch

We set sail so we might feel,

the beating heart of this very world.

If we wish to feel, to see,

and become new things.

We must dig deep, take a step.

And pursue the unknown end.


Come To Me

I recently decided that I want to take on the 100 day poetry challenge. But decided I should try writing a poem a week first. I used to do this some years back. Anyway, here’s a old poem I wrote over a decade ago.

 

Come To Me

Come to me and let us talk.

Let us talk till moon and stars are gone.

Let us talk till sky and sun are one.

Come to me and let us talk.

 

Let us talk till sand and sea is gone.

Let us talk till you and I are one.

Take me in your arms my dear.

Let me feel your tenderness so near.

 

Come let me reach down deep inside of you,

and touch those places hidden from view.

Come to me beauty and let us sing together.

Come to me…Let us flow together.

 

In harmony, you and I, we’ll hum together.

Your song shall resonate in me.

And my song shall resonate in you.

And we’ll crescendo in a blaze of fire.

 

The sun will seem warm in comparison,

to the heat of you and I together.

So my dear, you’ve heard the words.

Now all you need to do is…Come to me


What is Love

A question I have asked myself a number of times over the last few years.

I’ve had cause to think on it even more of late. Some time in May I returned from a trip to St Petersburg, where I had a number of gigs. I fell ill while still in Russia, and on my return to Berlin was laid up in bed for the best part of the week. My mother, with whom I speak at least once a week, was rather worried. She was concerned by the fact that I currently reside in a strange country where I have no network of people to look in on me while unwell. She requested that I “try to find a girlfriend” to remedy this. I was highly amused by that statement!

Nevertheless, despite this amusement, it did give me cause to think on the whole “love” subject.

Much of my life experiences have meant that I’ve become a tad cynical in my not-so-old age. Somewhere deep inside I still want to believe in the old ‘code’ of love, honour and the like. My mother, who is a lot more perceptive than she admits, always tells me not to look at her marriage as an example, rather to look at the marriage of her parents and from that take solace in the fact that some couples do make it. My grandparents were together for as long as I can remember.

My grandmother passed way before my grandfather. After this, he was never the same. I still remember speaking to him once, some years ago. And he was nothing like I remembered of him. The last time I saw him was at some point in ’93, before I returned to the UK from Nigeria. He was in his 70s at the time. I still remember, he climbed a tree to get me some bananas. This tree had been there since I was young, so it wasn’t a short tree. He was a man full of vitality. So I was indeed shocked at the change in him, his voice was weak and he could hardly speak. My mother told me that after his wife passed away, a part of him was gone. Though, on the day he passed away himself (some 3 or so years after my grandmother), my mother tells me he was singing, dancing and telling all that he was going to see his wife. My forays into the relationship quagmire have been far from wondrous, as a result, I don’t believe much in love stories anymore. Despite that, this story always warms me.

I came across this particular story some years ago and thought it a good ending for this particular blog entry. This story reminds me that some of the old stories still work. And some people still do ‘make it’

I hope to be one of such people.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNfvuJr9164&list=TLbVdRuWT8VEWqJDkLV3pzkUAKtIyiG08N


New Year (2015)

At the end of every year I write a new poem to usher in the new year. Last year, for the first time in a number of years, I neglected to do so. I shan’t do the same this year.

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2014 has been a year of change for me. In January, I graduated from my Masters degree in Music Performance, with a fairly clear plan for the year. I was going to travel to Italy, as I had done during the summer for a few years. I had planned to spend a few months there, then possibly head to Ankara, Turkey for another few months. Italy fell through, and I had to change my plans. Halfway through the year, I moved to Berlin. I write this on Christmas eve and I’m sitting on my bed (I’ll type it up later)

It’s my first Christmas away from the UK in over two decades. Though I’ve spent the season on my own in years gone by. It feels quite different to be in a new country that I am yet to be able to call home. And as I prepare to celebrate my first Christmas away from home, I gain new respect for the many international students I have known over the years. I don’t know how you did. Though, I’m glad you did, and I am richer for knowing you.

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As I sit here, I think on the future. For the last decade, I had followed a plan. I’ve come to the end of that and I have no plan now. And I’m not ashamed to tell you that it’s a scary place for me.

Purpose

A new year beckons.

A new day begins.

As this new sun rises,

A new season begins with it.

A season of hope.

A season of joy.

A season of fulfilled dreams.

A season of new drive.

A season of new challenges.

Just like any other.

But a season with new determination.

So you need not run for cover.

As we open ours eyes.

To face this new day.

We think new thoughts.

We dream new dreams.

We see new faces.

To guide us on our way.

We step into new phases.

And in joy, our heads we lay.

Purpose must drive you.

And circumstance, not beguile you.

You need to be clear,

on who it is you are.

Be that one,

who believes in dreams.

Be that one,

who knows dreams can come true.

Lean not on excuse.

Don’t let fear stop you.

Negativity, you must refuse.

Else your tears proceed to drown you.

And when dark days come.

As they tend to do.

Reach deep inside,

To the strength in you.

Forget not, who you are.

Neglect not, your distant star.

Rather, stand firm for what you believe.

Reach far and you may yet receive.

Be brave and you’ll achieve.

Be true to you and in yourself believe.

As the new day begins,

see in it, a new hope.

See in it, a new chance.

And don’t be afraid.

Look back, to see where you’ve come from.

Then look forward, see where you’re going.

With a smile on your face, and hope in your heart.

Know that the future is indeed bright!

Happy New Year everyone! Make 2015 amazing! 🙂

stones


Image

(Video) Aint No Stoppin Us Now

Video…


On Writing

On Writing

I often get asked about my writing process, and how I write a song. What is your process? I’m often asked. As each song is different, I always try to look at it in retrospect and write from there.

This time around, as I’m in essence still writing the song, I will try to give you a more play by play description, if I can.

A few weeks ago at the end of a band rehearsal, the guitarist I’m currently working, started playing the beginnings of what he tells me is an old Brazilian song. The first 4 – 8 bars were some simply chords, played in arpeggio with a flattened fourth or fifth, giving it a very modal sound. I latched onto that with a simple melody and lyrics that came to me on the spot:

This is a new song.

That I’m writing right now

It’s a new melody

And it’s not quite the blues.

I told Joao (guitarist) that I didn’t want to hear the rest of the song, and just to let me use that beginning as a springboard for the rest. Walking down the road that night, I started singing it, adding to it, trying to let the melody flow by itself:

At the next rehearsal, we started working it. We started by listening to the above audio and going from there. In trying to find the rest of the song, I kept the first few lines and made stuff up to work with the chord progression that was being created. I added words as the melody was coming to me. The words were just filler, so that I could nail down the melody. Though, the chorus worked as it was, so I knew that was a keeper. I went away, worked on lyrics some more, to fit the melody. And by the end of our last rehearsal, this is what we had:

From the above you can see what we kept from the little audio snippet and what we threw out. There is still a little way to go, work things in properly. Some words I still wish to change, and I will allow those to come to me as and when. Tis just a little glimpse into what is sometimes my writing process. Sometimes, I bring a completed song to the band to work through. While other times, like with this song (still undecided whether to stick with ‘On My Mind’ or the original title of ‘New Song’) it starts with the tiniest bit (4-8 bars) and the song comes from there.


Emotive

22So, finding motivation to write has been a tad difficult over the last few months or so.

Then I saw a status update by River Ram Press run by a friend of mine. And it said something along the lines of ‘Just write!”

So, here I am writing. As I begin, I haven’t a clue what I shall actually write, but write I shall nevertheless. Walking home from work and my randomised playlist started playing a song I very much love ‘Details In The Fabric’ and it got me thinking. It’s one of those songs that encourages you by evoking the tears if they need to come out. When you’re feeling a touch melancholy it can sometimes help to listen to an emotive song. It’s one of motivated me to write my song ‘Sunrise’

I’ve a friend who tells me it’s song that helps her feel better when she’s feeling somewhat morose. It always makes me happy to know that I’ve been able to write a song that actually comforts her when she’s feeling bad.

I somewhat amateurishly created a little video for it. I shared it an age ago, but here it is again:

I hope you enjoy it.


Tell Me A Story

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As I write this just after 5.30am. I’ve been off work ill over the last few days and the joys of being ill mean I can be at my laptop now trying to write a blog. Of course, the good thing about being ill is the alone time and the time to think that I have. I remember writing a while ago about my my best songs/poetry coming from honesty. Well, I think I shall give that a try now with this blog entry. I generally don’t talk to people much about what’s going on in my mind. I think I shall use this blog for that. So I ask that you indulge me for a while, as I work through one or two things going through my mind.

It’s been over a month since my last written blog. I’ve been trying ever so hard over the least few weeks to write something, and on Facebook I even got friends to give me suggestions as to what I should write about. As I walked home from work about a fortnight ago, I started thinking about it. In trying to understand where I am now, I considered the last number of years and my progress.

As soon as I finished my undergrad degree, I started work as the President of the Students’ Union. The very day after that finished, I traveled to work in Italy for 4 months. On my return, also the very next day, I started studying for my Masters degree. Recently finished that and I haven’t started something else that’s quite as all encompassing as yet. I have a good job, I’m comfortable. And that’s the problem.

I’m itching for another project.  Itching isn’t quite the right word. Desperately seeking else I drown in comfortable, might be a better description. One of the reasons I left the 9-5 life many years ago was the feeling that has recently returned to me. The living for the weekend, the ‘loss’ of creativity. The hunger for something beyond the monthly paycheck or the occasional gig with the band.

I like my job. I love meeting new people and doing what I can to help them. I love the people I work with. Everyday I tell them that the only other place I’ve worked at that mixes the same blend of insanity and professionalism is the Kingston University Students’ Union. It’s unlike any other office I’ve worked at prior to coming to Kingston. That’s one of the reasons that I wanted to work at the International Office in the first place. Despite that, it’s not enough. I’m glad I will only be there until the end of July. I don’t regret taking this job. In truth, I’m happy I did. It’s reminded me that the 9-5 life is so not for me. I managed it for almost 10 years before coming to Kingston, only because the jobs were mundane enough, that my mind could be elsewhere all the while. I wrote my book while at work and I dreamed dreams of grandiose achievements while there. 10 -15 years later, and I have managed to scale some of the heights I had my eyes set on.

While I have indeed have set some new dreams/targets for myself, my current life means I have nothing left of myself at the end of the day, to create. The part of me that creates seems to be blunted, and try as I may to ‘sharpen’ it, I come up with naught. Now, as I sit at my laptop, I can feel things percolating again inside this little cranium of mine and I remember that I used to do my best writing at night. When all around is still, the sky is dark and number of those walking the streets counts in the single digits. Once or twice I would take a walk around Surbiton at stupid o’clock and breathe in the air. Walk to the river and watch its calmness and come back home to create. I would know it was time to stop writing when it started to get light out. My aim now, is to find a way that my optimum hours of creativity can be used to create, instead of trying to sleep. And my weekends need to be used on more than just trying to relax and recuperate in time for the week to come. Which means that when this job is done at the end of July I need to grab the bull by its proverbial horns and hold on tight. A new project is beginning to form in my mind. And this is good. I hope this will quell the gnawing feeling of disquiet and dissatisfaction that has been plaguing me these last few months. And that gives me cause to smile at 06.53 on this Wednesday morning.

Syfy am always consists of Smallville, then Buffy. Smallville’s just finished. Buffy next, then sleep. I’ve decided I shall return to the office tomorrow. Things to do etc. So, until next time people, have a great day!

SU President TJ Esubiyi 2009-10 d


Video

Love’s In Need

 

I know, it’s another cop out from not actually recording a video blog. Still better than nothing! I hope you enjoy. 😉

 


Insanity

I crave insanity
Insanity born of purpose
I crave insanity
Insanity that promotes drive.

That insanity that ignites passions
And makes you relentless
That insanity that drives creativity
So you can never stop.

That insanity that is unreasonable
And won’t accept what is.
That insanity that is wonderful
And only sees the beauty in all.

That insanity that will look beyond
Beyond the veneer
And see the truth
See the beauty beneath.

Inject me with this insanity.
For the world is becoming far too sane.
We can no longer see things that really matter.
We live in the sanity of the material.
The sanity of what we can touch.

I’d rather have the insanity
of what I cannot see.
I cannot see the love,
that gently encapsulates my mind

I cannot see the inspiration
that causes me to write.
And yet I trust in both
Both push me to fight.

Our hearts no longer beat for each other.
Our hearts no longer beat for truth.
Our hearts just beat for ourselves.
We leave the rest to rust.

Please give me this insanity
That insane thirst for knowledge
I want the insanity of love
That stupid fleeting thing.

I want my insanity
That childhood glee
No thought of what should
And what should not be

Give me insanity
It is my fondest plea
Wrapped in a world
Ripe with possibility

The thing that causes
our hearts to flutter
Is insane it’s true.
But it draws me out of the gutter

So yes, give me insanity.
I need not your reasoning.
Give me insanity.
For it is the reason I’m still breathing.