The Genesis of it all

The beginning of it all,
The sentence said by one in the midst of roaring laughter,
The fire that brewed the eternal light we gladly roamed in
All started at the pool table one Friday night.

The story emerged as a few nods were made and greetings murmured.
We gave each other silent smiles and occasional hidden winks
Then finally birthed a friendship by hitting a few balls on a table.

Each page we scripted was filled with love and autographed with memories.
Pictures taken by a beautiful S4 and photo credit goes to an amazing snowman we all built.
We were frozen with duties and the lack of freedom
But the fun and laughter we shared were all worth melting for.

Revelations made it's way to us.
It reminded us that the end was near.
Cappuccino cups and creamed waffles  with a dash of red bull with black wings stained the pages in resistance.
But the end still crept in.

We had the last supper at 1 p.m
Said our prayers and parted ways.
Even though the characters are physically apart,
This is the genesis of an eternal fire that burns beautifully in each of us

Ayoola Mè

Allow me to introduce myself...

I am Tutsirayiishe Laura Mhere,
I also go by the name Ayoola.

I am birthed from George and Petronella Mhere...
Yet I am nothing like them.

I am writer.
I used to be a self proclaimed one,
I wasn't even sure that I want one
But now I know that I am one.

I am perculier in the sense of I never want to belong.
I have always been an outcast,
Never one to fit in...
In the midst of being a loner I found refuge in my words.

I always tell whoever is willing to hear that
I'm a winner.
I was born one,
With a champion's mentality.

So as you get to know me,
Expect nothing but the best.

I am Ayoola and I am all that is good.

Ayoola Mè

What actually is

Do you really know what you deserve?

Maybe I've stretched it a bit too far,
I'll start small.

Do you know what  you're worth?
See,
We've been fed truths which turn to bitter lies when analysed.

Come to a point in your life where you begin to see.. clearly.
Where you understand that living is complicated,
There's no method to it.
Each man runs by their own intuition
Therefore our living is not the same.

Once you wash your eyes and blink a little.
Once you go for a spectacle change,
Trade in your old ones for better ones,
You'll see that what always has been is not what actually is and what actually is,
Is what you never expected to be.

It's like asking is existing is living
Or if being adds to existing which is in turn living.
No one really knows what's right
But sad thing about humans is...

We think we know it all.

Ayoola Mè

[My] Ideal Date

It will start off by...

An envelope being placed on my table,
I'll open it.
It'll be a dinner invitation,
"Wear that little black number,no make-up please
 And if it's possible,I'd like to see your eyes sparkle"

The location and time follow after the set of instructions.

I'll [act] puzzled,
Excited,
Annoyed at the demands
But I'll fulfil them.

I'll arrive at the set destination,
All natural looking,
To the best of my abilities.
I'll be on time even.

Dinner's already waiting,
All my favourites will be spread out.
He will  know me too well.

He made sure that "Tumi and the Volume" are playing live
And The Muffinz and The Soil are on the line-up too.

Malva pudding and custard are brought out for dessert.
Another favourite of mine.

The night ends with a young walk under the stars,
Random things should make up the conversation.

Yes such will melt my heart.

A goodnight phone call followed by a cute text after will seal the deal.

One day right?

Ayoola Mè

Prior Owned... not used

Having being passed on from person to person,
I'm tired.
I had no say whatsoever in who bought me...
Or who got me.

I was always [used],
Just so she could fit in.
I was changed and fabricated,
Just so he could have his way.

I was broken and mended
And broken again...

But no one cared.

I felt used.

Until my real owner came.
He that held my better half.
Him that knew how to love a broken heart...
So perfectly well
Because he owned it.

He didn't see me as [used]
But prior owned ...
By the wrong person of course.

 And she loved him so.

Ayoola Mé

...That he's the one

Inspired by *blood sister


To think that I had let him go,
I had labelled him "A waste of time"
And put him in the "don't even look there" box.

The thought of him as "the one"
Was foreign.
Yes I liked him
And yes I'd envisioned a life with him
But don't we all act that way when we have crushes?

I never thought that  we belonged[to each other]
Or that it's his gravity that I'd want to fall in

But fate has a funny way of working things out.

My heart had to be broken for me to realise that only he could mend it.
He may not know it yet
But I know he can feel it...
I see it.

It feels right,
Knowing that he's the one after all

Ayoola M`e

I just don't see you that way

No...
Please.. don't ask me again.

I just don't see you that way.
You're a good friend,
Why do you want to ruin that?

I mean,
I'm greatly humbled by the fact that you plucked up the courage to...
You know,
Tell me how you feel.

But

No,
Don't do that.
Don't apologise please.
It's all me.

I've been blinded by the numbness of my emotions,
That I can't even see that you're good for me.
I don't want to have you,
I don't deserve you.

I just don't see you that way,
I'm sorry.

Ayoola Mè

Stupid Love

"I love you"...
I really did,
Or at least I thought I did.
I mean it felt like love...

Sometimes

You used to look at me with dreamy eyes
And have that smile when I walked into a room,
I even thought you lost your breath for a second

But then that stopped.

You started being all edgy,
you know... tense sort of.
You stopped calling,
I even had to beg you to talk to me.

You
     stopped
                saying
"I love you"

You told everyone it was stupid,
That you toyed with my mind,
"It's what boys do"

They make you feel like ...
Love is stupid.

Well done for being a boy then.

Ayoola Mè

My fellow "comrades"

My fellow comrades,
Allow me to speak *coughs*.

We are gathered here,
In order to... eh.. to..
To discuss the matter at hand.
Yes to discuss the matter at hand.
 *paces up and down*

See we have a problem.
Ehm... yes, a PROBLEM,
And weneedasolutionveryquickly...
Yes,
Very quickly.

The thing is right *stops for a moment, analyses audience*,
I trust you all.
Yes I do..
I-TRUST-YOU-ALL.

For we have fought the struggle together,
That's why.
We have slept in the trenches and ate the leftovers,
Together.

We're one basically,
For your story,
Is my story.

Fellow comrades,
This is why we're gathered here.
Because you know two heads are better than one,
See I need you guys..
To ehm..
To ehm..

"Find a solution sir"

Yes,
Tofindasolutionveryquickly.

*sits down and lights up a cigar*
So suggestions anyone?

Ayoola Mè

Under-dressed

For my Apple

Exactly the opposite is how I function.
Opposite of what's expected that is,
So technically...
In my world I'm proper.
But in yours,
I'm not.

Under-dressed for occasions I am always,
They tell me.
I somehow never get the clothing right.
I can't be kicked out of their reality though
But I'm never fully welcomed.

I've tried,
Believe me I have.
To fit into the depictions set within every invitation received,
To dress accordingly...
But I fail.

My definition of looking good is certainly not what they had in mind when they said dress to kill.
But what can they expect from someone called Apple?

I'm not meant to blend in.
I'm meant to "fruiten" things up.

So under-dressed I am in your eyes
But I'm perfect in mine.

Ayoola Mè

Life of a certain teenage kid

Being surrounded by the whose-who-in-the-zoo,

One tends to feel  like nothing.

Belittled by what the world has set as "acceptable" standards,

One looks at one[self] and thinks,

"Am I really meant to be?"

Constant comparing,

Living with worry,

"Will I ever be good enough?".

The struggle continues.

And for others,

It's a part of life.

Imprisoned by society,

Sentenced without a trial.

No lawyer even fought for you,

That's how it is for "outcasts",

If you aren't pretty enough or good enough,

You can never fit in.

Being surrounded by the who's-who-in-the-zoo

Life of a certain teenage kid. 

Kinkled truth

Her truth was kinkled...
By what she called [herself].
She...
Managed to demolish what her spirit had worked so hard to build up all because she,
Allowed [herself] to think that she's not worthy.

Worthy to be called beautiful,
To be admired by all,
To be the [it] girl,
She...
Deemed herself unworthy.

Her truth was kinkled,
By the vision she met every time she looked in the mirror.
She...
Kept up the mirage of "everything's okay",
But cried herself to sleep every night, hurt
For nobody cared...
Enough to notice she was dead.

[She] mocked [herself],
[She],
Believed that she could never be

And no one even noticed.

Ayoola Mè

Breathe with a difference

We're just breathing...

Or am I wrong?

I know that many of us call it living,

But do we really know what living is?

Dreaming, feeling, achieving..

All part of this merry-go round called life.

Is that all there is to it?

Is that living?

We've already fallen in this loophole,

This whirl wind  we call life.

This car ride we were thrown into,

Buckled up and child-locked in.

But take a minute and just...

Find your feet.

Pick out your favourite shoes and dance to your favourite tune.

Own this,

Allow your hair to flow freely in the wind.

I know we're just breathing...

But breathe with a difference.

Ayoola Mè

Being Beautiful

For Letukile Maduma.

Nothing but the best... simply because I am the best.

My life... the party that everyone will talk about but not everyone is invited to,

And beauty, something genetically induced in me,

I had no choice but to exhort it. 

I'm not one to let the world get  sneak peaks of who I am.

I believe in dazzling at the prime time.

What you eventually get to see, is who I really am.

Sassy, smart, heavenly ordained with a figure to die for.

I am not proud, I just know my worth...

And that will never change.

Nothing but the best... simply because I am the best.

Ayoola Mè 

What I can't have

Embrace me with a mere look my way... I'm not asking for much.
Honour me by passing past me so my being may bask in your shadow as you walk away.
Allow me to catch a glimpse of you from afar... you won't even know I'm there.

See,your presence is the present the creator gave to me but not in full... [are you listening?]
It's like I was a given a gift card for 399 rand an you're the item that I want but can't have because you cost 400.
It's like being told there's gold around but after continuous digging you find an empty treasure chest with a few coins instead.

I'm in love with the idea of you.
I mean your scent on its own is hypnotizing... your smile captivating...
 Your kiss... I will never know.

But...

I should consider myself lucky, privileged even.
Because beautiful people like you are rare in these parts of town...
And even if I can't have you... having you around is good enough.

Ayoola Mè

Why I do this

I love blank pages… my pen does too.

It’s pregnant with words and awaits for labour pains as I take my time to uncap it and begin the birth process.

My hand is the matron and my mind the doctor.

First print, the contractions are hard but excitement is brewing… I can’t control it.

Next thing you know more sentences are appearing… The baby is almost out.

My words tell a story no man understands but that’s the point.

I don’t need sympathy, no not at all. I just need space to allow growth to take place.. growth only I am in charge of and before you know it the baby is born.

My heart poured on paper… blank page no more.

I am a writer.

I write, I mean that’s what I do.

I think about writing [most] of the time… I think of different words I can group together and imagine how good they’d look on paper.

I can claim that I am shy but no one believes me so I play the part of loud chiq whi has something to say all the time…[just like they want me to]

But it’s okay… because it’s only when I hold a pen in my hand that I tell truths…

Dishing out words because that’s the only way I can be [real].

I love blank pages.

Ayoola Mè

Lonely Nights

Clock Strikes 00:00 and here I am roaming around in the kitchen… as usual.

Binge eating… Though I’m calling it “catching up”; It sounds better.

Combing my insomnia with my desire to satisfy my stomach,

I come up with new recipes every night, making snide comments like “Nigella’s got nothing on me” just so I won’t feel guilty for indulging when no one’s looking.

01:00… stomach starts growling again.

"No", I whisper.. sternly though.

"I’m big enough as it is already" 

I look at my phone, expecting some sort of miracle though I haven’t prayed for it to occur.

It sucks I have to admit, staying ip by myself…

I’d become [over]dependent on you… the thought of it now is intoxicating but I trust[ed] you so it was normal…

I mean you promise[d] you’d stay… but

03:30..

Stars are starting to disappear…

Mum’s switching on the geyser.. and me??

I’m still awake… going over “all things good” I’ve experinced, trying hard to erase the ones that include you 

Commiting murder while I’m at it for I’m stabbing your image.. your smile especially

Destroying your voice and that laugh you had everytime I told you I loved you.

Piercing that warm feeling that occurs as I remember how gawdly it felt when you moustach tickled me the night we kissed.

Insomnia sucks

05:20… as I make my way to the shower.

This is normal right?

People don’t sleep…People don’t cry even when they are hurting…

People [over] eat…

People think…

People remember [everything]

And as I leave the house I dread the coming of the night… for I know when it does. 

My bruises are awakened again

#Ayoola