ALL IS WELL

Every man is weak who has not understood himself before setting out to understand the world; when he’s supposed to drink, he eats; when he’s supposed to strike, he prays; when he’s supposed to pray, he fucks; when he’s supposed to fuck, he fights; when he’s supposed to fight, he hopes, and hope, he does not know, embraces only those who are willing to run against the wind.

I am a liar if I tell you that all is well, all is not well. All is only hoping to be well but not any well. The rich man has all he desires, but unlike the struggling man, he cannot jog in the street and inhale his childhood neighbourhood air without being guarded by men in black suits and pistols, what a limitation! I also know about a rich man who doesn’t need guards while he jogs, who would dare touch him, he has AIDS. Five days ago, I heard that our juniors in school have written their final papers, that was good news but damn it, we who have graduated since last year are still at home, awaiting NYSC mobilization which will probably not come until November, new graduates are added to us and will also wait, many of them waiting to live, waiting to start a walk towards taking their surnames to the limelight, waiting to lead while the world winnows away beneath them. Alas! Our various days of death silently approach, not minding whether we’ve started living or not. They will also wait and wait, after failures they didn’t deserve, after inflicted Extra Year or probably unbesmirched success, after years of industrial strikes, after seven years instead of four and six instead of three. Did I hear you say All Is Well? Total bullshit!

I am a liar if I tell you that I’m not made for love. Because of a girl, like every other fool fallen victims of love, I stay awake at nights, romancing thoughts about her. How I hate love! It’s an inevitable weakness that raises even the cocks of great heroes and puts heroins of elegance and valor out of pants and corsets, to be laid, like every other pleb for Nature’s programmed romantic gymnastics. Am I not here after all, ryneled up like a dung ball and kicked about by a beetle? When we’re indeed supposed to hate, we love. When we’re supposed to fight, we hope.

Hope is always our escape, our fortress, the cord unto which we hold to secure meaning to life, but life itself has disowned hope as one of her sons, and I’m afraid there is no hope. Happiness is our dream, and it is pregnant, pregnant of opposite, for I have seen empires rise in happiness, they share the same ending, ruination. Indeed, happiness is hot-tempered.

Isn’t life a riddle? You start from the beginning, swearing to be bigger than Otedola and wealthier than Gates, of course you sweat in the rain and boil in the cold, seeking to secure meaning to life, finding yourself at the limelight finally and yet you’re not happy. It is you the rich that suffers from cancer, it is you that suffers from permanent high blood pressure or hypertension, it is you whose children are arrested with hard drugs today and released to be rearrested for possessing illegal firearms tomorrow. Some men are happily poor, they live to eat, poor man, his children aren’t his, it’s his wife’s little secret, please don’t tell him. He doesn’t see beyond where his poverty looks. Ouch! That sucks!

I have a dream for God’s sake and this society doesn’t give a damn about what I wanna become! How I’m so bored just like you over there who’s in the same waiting shoes as I. Boredom I’ve learnt brings bondage bluntly burning bachelors black and blue, brilliant boys becoming bleeding bastards branding bars bodily by blazing bollocks burning bartenders. Bubble up buddies, our brains mustn’t be burnt by bottles! Let’s continue to chase our dreams and stop waiting for certificates to determine our fates.

Dreams are handsome, they almost are if not that they are slaves to time, slaves to forces both seen and unseen, bigger than us but not than our God. And we would dream on nonetheless with hope hoisted as our flags, at a point, God knows, whatever happens, all is well. Abi, is all not well?

-Lord eBay (and his thoughts)
Ff on Twitter @eBayism

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12 Comments Add yours

  1. ideadibia says:

    All is not well. I have these thoughts too, like once a week. The society we live in stifles dreams that remotely deviates from the norm.

    Like

    1. Lord eBay says:

      Yes, unfortunately. But we’ll not surrender anyways. Thanks for the read, Ideadibia.

      Like

  2. chevvy8 says:

    Some thoughts you have here – sounds good for a Rap. Just visiting and saying thank you for your visit.
    Cheers. Chevvy

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Lord eBay says:

      Rap? Lols… Now that is funny. Thanks.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. chevvy8 says:

        So Lord eBay – just meant that by the time I got to all the B alliteration, it felt like I needed to Rap what I was reading 🙂 Thanks for the follows. Chevvy

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Lord eBay says:

        Welcome Chevvy8. It’s nice having you around. I wish I could rap though… Really!

        Liked by 1 person

      3. chevvy8 says:

        You’re welcome 🙂 Maybe you should try putting together a rap – a good way to let the steam out.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Lord eBay says:

        I’ll let you know if I do. Eh-eh!

        Liked by 1 person

      5. chevvy8 says:

        Absolutely no pressure:-)

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Sue de Nimes says:

    Powerful. I’m not sure about rap, but I can hear this as amazing performance poetry 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Lord eBay says:

      Now I’m amazed, Sue de Nimes. Thanks for the read.

      Liked by 1 person

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