THE RELATIONSHIP STRUGGLE

Man: Why do you smile like that?
You should have a small smile
You know you do not have a nice dentition.

Lady: Okay sir…

Man: Why do you walk that way?
Learn to catwalk
I mean, even those with bad legs can right?

Lady: Okay love…

Man: Why didn’t you apply make up?
Your spots are too much
I like my women always on point

Lady: Okay baby…

Man: Why is your nose so big?
Don’t worry, when next we travel
We will definitely stop at Dr 90210

Lady: That will be nice…

Lady: He doesn’t love me, he thinks I’m ugly. Maybe I’m not his type, maybe I should leave this relationship….

Man: I love my lady, and I’m sure she understands how I feel, not like I’m trying to make her feel less of herself, I just want the best for her….

©ruthspoetry 2017

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Guess What My Obsessions Are?..

Obsessed

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I have three strong obsessions;

One of them binds me strongly to him
it drags me to this world I can’t rule
and bites my ego to dust

The other mocks my girly pose
it draws me closer to being a shrew;
an insensitive parade of filters

Ah! The last one is a sister to vanity
it takes me to an ecstatic calling
and roots me down to a bed of regrets

…take a long breath and guess, what are my obsessions?

-Ruthspoetry 2016

A SHADE OF THOUGHTS

<a href="http://Beach“>

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She said;

in cold and windy warmth
I lay and mute time
on the beach, on my back
counting the stars
naming them after destiny
the ideology of peace prevails
as the water and sand mate
beneath the locks of my skin
to birth the soul with moist
sprouting the growth of a new mind
relieving the fever that burns within
the solace I seek is in stages
to heal, then to love

I said;

the solace we seek is within
to love ourselves till we heal
acknowledging our emotions
amending the vanity of shielded paths.
For me, life is a constant war
that we will always win
what matters is the timing…

©2016. Ruth Brodrick

WITHOUT HELP…

***
It takes a lot of courage to say goodbye you know,
ending a 24-years marriage abruptly, what’s more difficult?
especially when one partner is still in love! but has to let go
for me, it was a bondage I never saw until now
always ready to take the blame to let you win
waxing my soul cold so yours can blossom
taking the slaps and beats like i learnt some karate, psst!
I never imagined a world like this with you
I prayed for help to come, it never did
but what happened to the sweetness of your soul?
you used to call me darling like the word never sounded so good
always out for my happiness, my smiles, this is sad!
I know you still have some good left in you
was it because I cut my hair? Or because I started going to church?
oh!, because I couldn’t give us a baby boy? What was my wrong?
I’ve been sad ever since that night, the first fight
I knew a demon possessed you, the way you hit me,
the words you said, but it was only the beginning.

I do not wish you well, how could I, but I pray you find Christ soon
or hell will be throwing the hottest party for you.
Your mum called, she said she tried to talk to you
but you were nothing close to being remorseful
it is well with you, by the time you get this letter
I’d be gone, forever! You’re my biggest mistake.
Goodbye my husband, I see the angels waiting for me
the stab only brought me faster to happiness.
Remember always, Jesus loves you and you need his help…

SAY NO TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE…

©2016. Ruth Brodrick

<a href="http://Help“>

CONTRAST

href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/contrast/”>Contrast“>
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My ego is clenched
as the sun shines on
revealing my radiant soul
flaring confidence in phases
I remain phlegm to critics
rather crispy than cranky

my true words are wrong
they are carved in faith
speak faith they say
so I came along
and now I’m bewitched
my songs are bland
entailing weakness
rather than strength

I remain my own plight
not my religious pretence
or my optimistic aura
the vain is the contrast
the world is round
despite the preachers words…

©2016. Brodrick Ruth

SUICIDAL…

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awakening to the paradox
the denied passion lives on
jingling between confusion
yearning for freedom helplessly
the tempt is in your eyes
cast out the plaque to see

you run away from nothing
the chase remains invisible
with blurred perspectives
for it is within, in your head
your ruin started with the thoughts
caressing plots of frustration

summoning your fear to submission
vaguely accepting the unknown
you’re too weak to resist
falling too hard to get up
for your thoughts betrayed you
and left you hanging dead

with a short rope to the ceiling
and head adorning the earth
with one last glance, you eloped
then you realize, it’s just a mirage
nothing really happens impromptu
the genesis was when your thoughts lied…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick

P.S: I’ve been too busy to even stop by and do the usual blogging activities, but I think of everyone here, I miss you all. Can’t wait for the holidays.
I sincerely apologize for my absence. Hope to be back soon. Love you all…

IVORY CAST

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She stayed glued to him
for a thousand years,
yearning for his heart beat
or the helpless breath of awake,
yet he denied her loyalty
and spat on the love she offered,
mocking the tales of Ivory Cast;
the epitome of a fine skinned woman
with the prudence of half an angel.

He said to her, I know thee as beautiful
dauntless like a sapphire, you truly are,
with eyes sparkling tenderness
and lips tearing down denial
but to me, you are nothing.
Weak men see the plastered deceit
but I see the falsity of thy love
and I hear the voices that roam say,
do not look too deep,at a beautiful woman
for her eyes carry the tempt
that will murder you to insanity”.

If beauty was my choice dear Ivory,
you will be my queen for all thy life,
but nay, beauty is the wrinkle of the skin
and character, the beauty of the face.
See now my dear, that you are nothing?
Your beauty is nothing but dust…

©2015. Ruth Brodrick

RANTS OF FUSED WORDS

I
Though the fall of a resentful bliss
The cascades of temptation weeps
Fighting the truth that speaks not
Disarming the blunted bars that rise
The chaos of today began yesterday

II
Goodness is a virtue of discipline
Blah blah blah, says the preacher
I say, virtue is an arm of goodness
The more the good, the more the virtue
The circle is brief, yet it tells the tale

III
The hunch of respect is always pride
New calamities press on as it grows
The line between them is the fugitive
Nothing sparks bloody than their war
If you doubt it, bite the proud man

IV
Beauty stinks when it’s rotten
The professional harlot even smokes on it
But you sit at home and paint vanity in walls
Letting your grounds clay up in vain pursuits
Nothing grows on that dry land, they die…

V
Wisdom lied, it made us mad men of time
Creating the fury of a blinded strength
The fierce beat of thought always mocks us
We think, but we do not birth the news
Tell me, how then are we wise?

Copyright© Ruth Brodrick.

<a href="http://Fifteen Credits“>

SHORT STORY: PUBLIC JOURNAL 89

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He said, ‘will you marry me’?

I said, ‘of what benefit will that be to me’?

He said, ‘of worlds entwined forever, and love ridiculed by me. Know this day, my fairest Pat, that I am incapable of loving you and not worthy to behold the stunning glory of your morning beauty, or the smiles that flows through your face that outshines dark feelings. But one thing I’m capable of, is being that one that’ll be by your side in and out of season, holding your hand, loving you the best way I can, and teaching life a new song, because what grows in my heart for you, it’s like aurora, something I am scared of. Cast me away, yet I’ll wait aside, by the corner of the lost love, not giving up, but still loving you till you see me again and love me. And your benefit; is me being your servant and still your king, my fairest.’

I gave him a second look, and asked if he meant all he said

He said, you know I do, in a thousand worlds, and in thousand lifetimes, it’s only you, and only you

I looked at him, this time I could feel my heart falling apart, and my head swelling up, I gave him one last look, and took the gun out of my purse and shot him.

Don’t ask me why? Ask him why he’s so good with words that he believes he can always get away with things, maybe not in this life, in the next. He deserved to die, a man who marries women to kill them?

Till then, he’d burn in hell for the 37 innocent girls he’d deceived into his marriage called serial killing.

***

Agent Pat, you copy?

Copy, Yeah, one down, three to go…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick.

…AND I STILL CHOOSE TO WAIT

<a href="Barter System“>
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On the sea
I sail to wait
for your return.
Why you left me
where you
found me, I don’t know.
Under candle lights
in dark caves
my soul searches
for you and all of you.
The whisper
that greets me
says You won’t be back
but with you
next to you
is where I rather be.
So I choose to wait
for a thousand times
in a thousand lifetimes
I will wait for you.
Till my feet grow weary
and hands feeble
but still my heart
will wait for you
to come and love,
and if you do not come
I still choose to wait…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick.

NOT YOU

This post is dedicated to those who have been hurt by someone they trusted, and yet that someone thinks they are being thought of, NOT YOU I SAY.
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How does
the rain fall?
Why is the
sky so high?
Why are you
different from me?

Don’t take
this personal
But I’d rather
think of nothing
Than think of you,
not you…

Copyright 2015, RUTH BRODRICK

A SISTER’S LOVE

<a href="But No Cigar“>

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Yesterday, I was a child with a home, today I am an orphan with no home.

My sister cries like a noisy housefly, because mama left us without saying goodbye.

Brother, now takes what is not his,
He said, “we have to survive no matter what”

Then the news came, brother is no more.

Pastor say, he’s off to hell to reap what he sowed
‘Him and your son too,’ I say to pastor, no one is righteous.

Brother was bad-good, he wanted us to eat.
Now my sister cries like a bush rat.

I’m off to the mainland looking for ‘maga’.
It’s just for one night, and I’m making mad money
Wearing designers and giving my sister food.

Now she cries no more, she’s happy and fat.

I’m thin and sick, my tummy hurts always
Doctor say I’ll be a mum soon, but I’m sick,

Dunno who is the father of the baby
So I call him bastard, he’s so ugly.

My sister is back with a degree and looking fine
She said she is now a doctor, but I don’t see how
She’s too small to treat a fat man
But she is good, but I’m getting sicker.

One day, she took my blood, she say is for test.
Then she came back crying, I asked why, she say my blood is bad
I asked how bad, she say very bad like brother’s blood,
I asked why? She said too many man blood in my blood.

I know I will die soon because I can’t move about again
But I’m happy, I made my sister somebody in the world.

I tell her, do not cry for me when I go
Because I sacrificed this blood to make you wear white coats
So for me, it was worth it…

By Ruth Brodrick
Copyright 2015

THE WAY I LOVE YOU

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The way I love you
It’s in no way familiar
My heart has been stolen
Dressed with the best perfumes
And kept in a chest of your words

It’s a beautiful pleasure in here
My love for you surpasses strength
It’s fierce yet as calm as the waters
Even if you do not want me anymore
I would wait till you love me again

Like a nail driven far deep into the wall
I have driven myself into you, fixing my heart
I wish for you to see this, but also not to
The fear that you will think of me as weak
It’s actually why I keep dying in this box

I am actually weak; your smell, your touch
I am enslaved to a man who is strong-willed
Fighting away the cups that bear him wine
Helplessly denying the need to turn off lights
Still I love him for the poison he feeds me

The way I love you
Is that kind of way that tells a story
A story that will run on the lips of men
The story of how you tamed my prudence
And cultured my thoughts to wanting more

By Ruth Brodrick
All Rights Reserved ©

DROWNING TO HELL…

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The bridge is broken
I lay sinking in desperation
The waters are angry and fierce
Inviting me to a call to glory
Please help; somebody help me

I killed a man before I drowned
Running my knife through his skin
His tachycardia was palpable
Clenching on his skin; I feasted
Enjoying every part of his blood

Deriving pleasures from his screams
And from his fleeting breath; I danced
Now I am drowning to hell
The demons are already with whips
Ready to repay me for my actions

I see now the line between death and life
Spirally tearing down my ritual hands
Now my murderous soul denies me
I have done evil but I don’t want to die
Please help me; somebody help me….

ARE YOU MAD?

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When the heavens became dark
you dashed into her room
and soiled her bed with the evil you grew
now the gods spit thick saliva on you
and the blessings they owe you, they have withdrawn
the hands that blessed you now curse you
the lips that first kissed you now sigh
your mother laments your foolishness
she has shaven her head for you are dead to her
she now asks you, ‘who is your mother eh?’
your father is deaf to the insurgence
he thinks you are mad

are you mad?

she is now with your seed
and hates it and you for the rough linen scar
she curses your manhood, but you still want her
you call her love; she is the only woman you want
the priest will now take you to the shrine and torture you
he will put fresh pepper on you and pour palmwine on your sore
he will tie you under the sun, so it will melt your black skin
but your mother still comes to clean you at night and whispers to you

I am still your mother, but you are not my son
and you do not have a father or a sister
only a child that will hate you when she finds out
that she is the daughter to your sister

By Ruth Brodrick.

All rights reserved ©

THE PREVALENCE

 Before I go ahead to make my first post for 2015, I just want to wish everyone a PROSPEROUS YEAR, it might be coming late, but I believe saying it is better than not giving you my wishes…

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Falling from ecstasy to a damned roar
My legs trembles at the dreadful view
Innocence is just a badge we wear
That usually fails to vindicate us in trouble
It watches us fall, break down and die
In my opinion, happiness is just fiction
If innocence stands aside
And fate burns its eyes with sulphur.

Lies are not good
Truth on the other hand hurts
Honesty seems to wear a thick apparel
Made of woven wool and pain
Leaving us to the damnation in abyss
Retching cowardly at the saints that mourn
Constantly trying the heart of goodness
Predominantly brooding over righteousness
In the end, good is good
Bad is also bad
No mater the obscurity of life’s pattern
Truth and goodness will always prevail

By Ruth Brodrick.

All rights reserved ©

Dance With Me Babe

I’ll make
the first move
just hold on
and dance with me
step by step
hand in hand

you and I
rocking our body
we can go samba
if you want
better still
do the ekombi style

if you wanna go western
fine by me
we can do shmurda
or ballroom dance
making a show
in the eyes of life

and when your tipsy
I’ll hold you tight
close to me
your chest against mine
head on my shoulder
then we slow dance

when the feeling’s strong
I’ll take you home
you will wake up on my bed
curled on me at dawn
still dancing with me
in your head’s trip

if you doubt my charm
come dance with me babe…

Robbins- Makarova-thumb-560x820

By Ruth Brodrick. All rights reserved©

#484

black-boy-gun

He is just a little boy
Not even up to 6
With no mama and papa
He is living under the bridge
Surviving from your trash bin
Yet you are so selfish
You give all the leftover to doggy
You see him looking tattered
It’s no business of yours
Your children, they wear fine clothes
You’re happy, and tell them shuu from him
You call him baby devil, he looks like one now

Now he robs your house and he’s mean to you
He rapes your girls and shoots your woman
You’re bitter with rage, he is bitter with pain
He smiles at you with his brown caked teeth
He knows you sentenced his papa to death
And made his mama die on a rope
He ain’t gonna forgive you for that

‘You, the devil here’ he says to you
My papa, good man, you did evil
You blame him, they kill him, you alive
Mama, she gone mad, kill herself
Me I hate you, I shoot you, I hang you
Clean job, like I did no such thing
I go with your money, free man
You go for judgement, bastard!

No no! Too easy Mr, you die in pain

You begin to beg, he hits you hard
Now he shoots your girls, takes you with him
He buries you alive on the farm
And invites the birds to feast on his dinner
They pluck your eyes , you scream
They haunt your skin, you scream
He’s watching, laughing, enjoying it
No more life, he says, he takes you
Cook you spicy and steamy
Now he asks bingo to eat you
Good boy, good boy he says to doggy

Cologne Her

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You smell her skin; kernel and groundnut oil
a cluster of butterfly eludes you
your wildest imagination cuts through the fragrance

under her bed, you stole the secret
you wore it, yet it wears her on you
you look ravishing, but with her glory
now you tell the lies to antique minds
but they can recognize the origin of the cologne
it wears a grin on your face that resembles village
the cassava farm recognizes you as you walk by
it mocks the worn out pride on your face
and praises the ghost of the woman you wear

you are vexed; you sneak it back under the bed
the rumble of the sweet smells of lavender bows to you
you want this one, but you rather not wear old grin
so you leave, smelling of coconut oil instead

By Ruth Brodrick. All rights reserved ©. This poem should not be used or shared without the author’s permission.

JEALOUSY; THE MORE YOU LOOK, THE LESS YOU KNOW

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Your sister hates me
she curses my curvy and short figure
she says I took her good features during creation
or that I came from the ocean floor of hell
now she gossips me with her broom-stick sisters
and stares at me with eyes of arrows

when I walk, I wiggle; my heavenly endowment
when she walks, she bends: too much hormones
when her suitors see me, they stare at me head to toe
but they only look at her lagoon face
even your mother wishes she had buttocks
so suitors can bring money
that she will use to train you in school

I see that I have become an idol for her fantasies
but it’s not my fault she resembles the riot of hell
but why is she jealous
she wears foundation and designs her face; I do not
she wears long beaded ear rings; my ears are not pierced
she wears short skirts; I wear long gowns
my natural beauty overshadows her playground face

when we walk down the road together
heads turn to me and she becomes my shadow
she hates me even more now
but I look at her and wish I was tall
or that I had her hormones
that feature; she stole from me during creation
and I hate her for that

By Ruth Brodrick. All rights reserved ©, this prose poem should not be used or shared without the author’s permission…