To love one; who belongs to another..

I still find myself being too drunk on love – the one thing that is never enough, that there is never enough of.

And I do not want to lose myself, to the many hells that we call vulnerability, but somehow, on some level, I know that it is not meant to be – I know that it could never just be you, and me.

We are so young, so rebellious… We have the entire world ahead of us;

Inconsistencies, at our disposal.

Love, good love – I did not want to fall in love when I met you; I wish that you would not have come too soon, for my heart; it is so harsh,

It is so greedy, so needy, and now that I have clutched you in my seems, I should want to make dreams of you… But you leave, because you have an entire world outside of us – and you will never be for us… The God Lord, he prophesied his belief in the holy trinity, man, wife, and child – nowhere in there, did he speak of infidelity…

We are scorned, before our love is even born. – Cindy Anneh-bu

© Seek Cindy.

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Father’s cot.

fathers cot.jpg

Afbeelding Albert Neuhuys – Watching father work

Time is always ticking inside of my mind.
I do not remember a time, when i was sound.
Maybe in childhood, definitely not adolescence,
the last time that i was present,
not prone to self negligence.
Before all of the strenuous, tumultuous lessons,
visions of love, and trust, rolling in the dust.
Is it not too much to ask for something that is non reminiscent of love?
Last night, i had a dream of my father, through muffled whispers,
I told him..You hurt us, you deserted us, and now I am perpetually nervous,
anxious,
hyper sensitive,
wondering,
does this man love me so?
Will he too go?
Will we never ever get to grow?
Will i never ever know, is the fault mine,
or is he the very foe?
And he too,
and not to forget him from last year?
How long?
Before I call them all a villain, perhaps the villain lies within myself,
my own hell,
the world that i created through my father, i said to myself,
if he loveth me not, then why should any other of his kind not leave me to rot?

Fathers cot.

Cindy Anneh-bu

Blue day..

  
It has been a blue day, so I set my cup of tea calmly beside the window pane and watch the rain drops trickle in slow motion. I wish that they could stall time, and they truly do make the days go by, slower, so that I do not even realise when the grey sky fades to black. And I am still sat Infront of the window in my worn woolly slippers and my sea blue night gown. Now I trace shapes among the misty windows and every now and then breathe hard so that I may start again. I hate mistakes. And I have made my fair share that I ponder on days like these. When nothing makes sense anymore. Not even looking back, because I have come so far, and looking to the past is no longer an indication of how large, a spirit I possess. Nevertheless, I cannot look forward because the future looks as bleak as my tea. Still untouched since half past three, July the fifteenth. Now it sits with moulds of brown and greens. Just like the leaves in my garden of eve. I turn my head slightly, hoping that something will lift my spirits and shift me out of my misery. The moon is full and a fly whispers something into my ear. ‘Do not do it dear’ do not give up again this year. You’ve so many lessons to collect, among your tears’. 
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© 2016

All works published on this site are under strict ownership of the owner, and any re-destribution is strictly prohibited without permission, and necessary credits.

Last night, I dreamt of the moon..

  
“Last night, I dreamt of the moon, and crashing waters, gushing aggressively towards glass walls that barricaded me, and I know that I dreamt of them because of you.
The moon represents so many things, intuition, feminine energy, fertility, love/romance, the unconscious, emotions, and alchemical illumination.
All of that, is you.
You are the walls that barricade me, and the ocean waters are the feelings that you do not want to let in.
You can see them coming, through the transparency of the walls, you can see that they exist, but as the moon also rules illusion, you are trapped inside of confusion, is this mere intrusion, or can such a love truly exist?
Once again, my darling, look to the moon for your salvation from doom..
It is asking you to be in tune, with the other aspect it rules, intuition..
My love, just listen,
You have been blessed with the clearest of visions, should you trust your intuition..

And that is a given, such provision,
Just listen.
And the moon, how it glistens, when you listen to its melodic traditions.
Feminine energy is a force to be reckoned with, and in the dream,
We were both fearful of the spaces In-between..
It is not the water, nor the moon that strikes the fear,
It is the distance, from here, to there.
Because what is the difference,
between illusion, and romantic confusion?”

Cinderella Anneh-bu

Internal bleeding..

  

Lately, my mind has been racing with so many things.

Who am I?

Who am I to become?

Was I always this deep?

What is the meaning of all of this?

Is this even real life?

Why am I stuck inside of my own mind all of the time?

Why do I care so much about societal injustice?

Why do I care so much about men, and women, and the things that they do?

Why do I have so many emotions, and why are they so intense?

Why is my nervous system so, nervous?

Why am I so nervous?

Why am I so anxious?

What’s going to happen in the future?

Who will stand the test of time with me?

And I don’t know any of the answers to any of these questions, and I cannot even begin to know.

I have been spending so much time alone lately, for the past few months actually, and it has been most strange. Sort of like living in limbo. I have received many spiritual insights since then, which have helped me broaden my views, and my knowledge of things.. But I have also dug so deeply into the human psyche, that I think that I am abnormal now.

None of the people around me understand me, or what goes on in my mind. I try to explain it to them, and for the most part they are sympathetic, but when I look deeply into their eyes, or listen to the uncertainty in their voice, I know that they do not truly, or fully understand me.

And can I blame them?

I mean what the hell is even going on with me..

I know I’m weird, and I push everyone away, and I prefer to be in this strange little cocoon by myself, doing strange things, but hey.. I am still a human, and I need human things.

The whole world forgot I still exist.
Now, I am off to do some more strange things..

A letter, from a father, to his daughter; much, much later. 

  
“I give you the world,
On a silver platter,
And I say that there is not a thing in this universe that I treasure more than you.
But already, that isn’t fair.
And I have placed so much glory, and storage on your head, and I expect you to live up to these false ideals.
I watch you closely as you play,
So delicate,
That every time that you step a little out of line, or I fear that you may be bruised, I swarm in, and I take you, and I keep
You.
And in doing so, I teach you to be afraid of the world.
You watch the others, your brothers,
And you see how they play untamed,
Unscathed by the battles of the playground,
Free, to dance around and move as one with the breeze, grazing their knees, and rising to their feet with ease,
But when you try,
I ask you to come back, to stand by me.
And that is where you will always be.
If not by me, then in the grips of another man who will expect much the same of you, to keep away from the dangers of the world, to be frightened, to be his.

I tell you that you are precious,
And there is this thing between your legs that you must guard with all of your life,
And keep yours till somebody make you a wife,
And only then will you know glory,
I tell you only then, will your story be worthy.
With this same sacredness, I give you shame.
I pass you blame.
I tell you to cover your arms, more discretely, straighten out your skirt more nearly, and close your legs,
For men are watching,
I teach you to be prey.

And at the end of the day,

I return, and turn around,
And call you my precious little girl.

A letter, from a father, to his daughter.”

Cindy Anneh-bu

  

© 2015
All works published on this site are under strict ownership of the owner, and any re-destribution is strictly prohibited without permission, and necessary credits.