Addictionary
I'm touching the strings but
I cannot touch the sound
I'm hearing of God
But I cannot hear his voice
He made the winds, they freeze my bones
But I cannot feel the arms
That made these arms around me
I fight with him
But can you beat against the air?
Thrown beyond my strength
Upon a floor so hard, so...rough
No hand nor bed of roses to break my fall
Pushed against walls for years and days
Been pushing back with no anchor
The waves they sing of a tale
In time sad, tragic, hopeful but fated
To end on the floor beneath the sea
The cold, cold ocean near the seaweed
The algae, and sharks that
Refuse to have me for dinner
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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What's In New York?
What's In New York? ' by Jenim Dibie.
It is said God dwells in the Northern pole...you know, up above...skies, clouds, and heaven above...I first heard 'New York', an awesome ballad by Snow Patrol in January,2012...Ever since then, every time I play it, especially when I'm going through...you know, stuff, an indelible image plays in my mind...I see me, little me, with a kite I think, running on a hill with a beautiful field, waving with one hand to God who's watching me from North above...I'm screaming out loud the chorus of the song:
'Come on, Come out
Come here, Come here
Come on, Come out
Come here, Come here'
He hears me and advances from up above toward me who is in 'New York', as I run showing him the state of my life, the state of the world...Then I start to tell him the reasons he shouldn't be Northward but right here beside me in 'New York'(The world) ...
'The lone neon light and the ache of the ocean and the fire that was starting to spark...I miss it all from the love to the lightning and the lack of it snaps me in two...Just give me a sign that there's an end not a beginning to the quiet chaos driving me mad...the lone neon light and the warmth of the ocean and the fire that is starting go out'...
He then dances with me for a while to the song of all songs(my life) .
Ponder on how the world was when it all started(the fire that was starting to spark) . Wonder on how the world is now it's all beginning to end(the fire that is starting to go out) . In one of my poems I wrote: 'Many a child born hath been the world to adorn, but sin hath turned the diamond to scorn'. The world lies in darkness, it needs a 'hero', 'a lone neon light'. You are that light, don't blend in, don't fade away. You were put in 'New York' to make it a better place. Are you? ... Love really is lacking in the world, that's why we kill each other and do the things we do which know in our hearts of hearts are wrong. The lack of love snaps me in two. Where is your love? ...
Days come and fly away like nothing, but time leaves you an unwanted gift ~ a wrinkle. Days come and go their way...What are you doing? ...What are you doing? ...Let the fire/passion begin to spark again, let the heat of the ocean remain...the young are dying away, don't waste your days I pray.
Love and show the world the way.
P.S: I have a weird imagination that's probably never been seen in the biography of the world. I have used to beautify 'New York' through poetry. What do you have? Use it. I love you.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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The Seasons Of My Life
The life of a poet
Or at least someone who aspires to be
The same as the life of any other or perhaps not
Conflicted within self
Fighting self to be self
But who is self?
The search wages on
The hunger pangs through
Life's short, what's its purpose?
What's my purpose?
Ambition's really not my thing
And yet it always seems to find me
I live for the day, with the hope of a better tomorrow
All the while knowing it'll be worse
But hey, what's a man to do?
I lay awake at night with my mind on a thousand things
Can't seem to count sheep
Inspiration comes best when silence hears her voice
Mildy asks why the light's on
I tell her I've got to put pen to paper
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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They Once Said
He said, all that glitters is not gold.
He once said, in the depths of winter
He finally learned that within him
There lay an invincible summer.
He wrote, you purchase pain with all that joy can give
And die of nothing but a rage to live.
He once said, he who does not forgive
Burns a bridge he too must someday cross.
He once said, forgiveness is the fragrance
A violet sheds on the heel that crushed it.
He said, love your neighbour as yourself.
He wearily said, all is vanity.
He defined a fool, as he who said
In his heart that there is no God.
He once said, what lies behind us
And what lies before us, is nothing Compared to what lies within us.
He strongly advised that
Talent is God given, be humble.
Fame is man given, be grateful.
Conceit is self given, be careful.
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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I Hate The View
Life's perfect picture. Hmmm.
Who holds the camera?
Who directs the postures?
Who forces the crooked smiles?
Life's perfect imperfection. Hmmm.
Why not call the end?
Everyone is broken or will be
Time ensures that in time
No innocence remains innocent
Who holds the breaking innocence
As it falls and hits the guilt?
The innocent never lasts.
Life's torn violin strings. Hmmm.
The abuser finds his victims
And breaks their soul for all their days
The strong survives by a thread
The weak in despair end their lives.
Life's creator's silence. Hmmm.
I hear mum speak and catch her tears
She's so sad and oh so tired
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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Age To Page
'Tis awhile since I last sat and looked at
our generation
My generation
Wouldn't spend a second thinking of the
nation
For 'tis our individual acts that sum up
the whole
Looking now, I seem to find a hole
A poke by a pole
Or perhaps something stronger
May suffice to make us better
And through this piece, I pray God
wiser...Here and there, I incline my ears
to listen to the voice of my brethren
Then and only then
Do my eyes see a problem
There seems to be a paradigm shift
Then I put my pen to paper to give my
generation a lift
A world hugely influenced by movies,
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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Begend
I tell a legend I once heard
Of a race called mankind, no more heard
Placed in time that told and sang
To all who heard and they which were
This is the end of a tale begun
The time, that time began to sing his song
A song of snow and broadway shows
Telling the tale of a tree called Know
Which Adam through Eve through the serpent came to know
And in due course came to show
All they had come to know
To know the art of breaking life and hearts
Then the acts that breaks God's heart
To know the murder act and evil more
Cain killed Abel hence killed himself forevermore
A sword lived by, a sword killed by
Time named history and sadly money swings by
Sings and strings his violin strings
Hoping the lyrics of his song will pull the heartstrings
Of the noblest beast of nature's field
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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Time
Let light be
Let life in
Let man live
Let time referee
Born to a world that's sick and ailed
All head out the world to change
Time sits back pops a corn and change
As all efforts to resuscitate the world has failed
My beauty met beauties of ages afore
And learned that time did beauty hate
My first breath held the breath of mortals before
My last failure pushed hope to extinction's gate
I've lived through shaded days
Wounded by the tornado's play
Forced on both knees to pray
Knows it not I'm but dust and clay?
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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Grey(A Sad Tale)
I tell a tale I know not, of a dame I knew not, whom like me they know not, in an age we were known not.
It was many, many a year ago that a young lass lived whom ye may know by the name of Jasmine Désolé. She lived with no other thought but to love and be loved in return. Sadly, this was not the case of her life, nor the purpose of her miserable existence. Though at the time she thought she was born by love to love and be loved. In no time, a cynic emerged as life viewed through a prism reflected an iridescence of ugly greys. In a kingdom called MIND, she was queen and king the same, the world was mean, her mind kinder. So for the rest of her days she lived in her head. She had no friends. And though a beauty, no lover. Her first kiss opened her to an array of creatures called MEN. But as each frog turned into a prince, they fled the scene as with the speed of lightning being chased by sound. Jasmine was opened and welcomed to a palace called SADNESS whose chef was named DEPRESSION. She ate and ate and in no time, she was robust and drowning in a river anciently known as LONELINESS. Time built her a tunnel and all her massively wrong choices shut its door. Sitting on the floor sobbing quietly to her maker many, many a year before this year, Jasmine pondered on why life was so meaningless to her and why at no point had the lines fallen unto her in pleasant places. She felt like a fish outside water; death being water and life the shore. It marked the beginning of ten or most likely more attempts to exit earth. After each attempt she dusted her feet and saw life as a rainbow. In few months, the novelty wore off and life went back to normal - grey. She ran from home when she fell short of their expectation to a land in which she knew no one nor anyone her and when she finally returned home to a family with adjusted expectations, she ran again to a different land with the same tale. Sadness had filled her soul and her eyes were the only window of escape.
If you ever see Jasmine Désolé in the world unnamed, you will know her by her big large brown eyes which bookmark sorrow. These eyes once browsed across a threnody by a great poet and rained heavily at the words:
'Was there no star that could be sent,
No watcher in the firmament,
No angel from the countless host
That loiters round the crystal coast,
Could stoop to heal that only child'. She had the heart of a child and often wondered why God had never stooped to help her. On this one fateful day however, she sat on her balcony, stared into her past and all she had ever been. She thought for hours. Then drugged herself to kick the bucket. And for the next five days, the bucket lay stone cold. Her mum held her cold feet as she lay motionless on the hospital bed and with a hundred teardrops prayed. Two thousand hands of a thousand angels tried to resuscitate her. Four thousand teardrops of the thousand angels kept her body warm. On the fifth day she came back to life with the breath of God and a phrase that said: 'This isn't everything you are.'
Days and months and years went by, all acquaintances had become strangers, 'possibilities' made nothing. And on one busy day, noise gave way to silence as she declared 'I DO NOT BELIEVE IN GOD'. An extremist by all makings she was, as she swung from full faith in God to utter disbelief in his ability. God had smiled but frayed her days. She was a light to others but knew it not, the light she shone on others cast a shadow on her own life. If tears were a trophy she'd have a fountain. If life were a choice, she'd choose death over and over again. Nothing worked nor made sense. She wished she knew, at any point knew, how life should be lived. She sought not love anymore, neither knew how to. Aches and pains and loneliness and regrets and all her baggages transmogrified into one giant molten scar known as her. No more hopes, no more dreams. She strolled through earth, to fulfill her days, having but one hope and one only. That one day in her walk through the world, she'd stumble into a garden that was bursting into life. On her tombstone it was written: 'One thing lingers, love remains love. And if ever you're unsure, just remember, God remains God'. As all whose lives her light had touched gathered in their thousands, it rained and poured. All stood still and cried and poured. Tears and rain, her journey's tale. Many and many a time had she walked in the rain and cried with it. She loved rain, she loved God, she loved...
I write a tale I know not, of a dame who knew me not, whom like me they know not, in an age we are not known.
It was many, many a year ago that a young lass lived whom ye may know by the name of Jasmine Désolé.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Music
My child, my child
Welcome to a world I was welcomed to
What seems not so far long ago
When the air was not eerie
And life was placid and not so scary
Of course I lie, what is now is what has been
All you see, the sun hath seen
The air is tense and always dense
And life is acid, it makes no sense
But I know of one I met while I yet lived
And came to know and came to grow
To love forevermore
One from whom emerged branches
Branches loved differently by different souls
And has his roots deep in the human spirit
One inspired by the muses or of God himself
One that had the power to make a grown man weep
(I'm a woman, I wept a fountain)
And a new-born dance
One filled with words which are as shallow as a stream
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poem by Jenim Dibie
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