Entry 05 – All that scares me – Abu A’ish Mk Albani

Name: Abu Aish MK Albani
Address: No. 11 Harry Darling Road, Area C, Ahmadu Bello University, Samaru Zaria, Kaduna State.

Info: You know my name. You know where I live. Okay, I guess I can tell you that I am a student of A.B.U a final year student studying building. I think I am twenty-three years old but I am not sure though. And I love the art of tugging words from my heart, pushing them to my fingers and pouring them on a piece of paper. Its a pleasure to meet you.

All That Scares Me

If I dont tell you about all that scares me its because I dont want them to come alive
Youll be surprise how many world exist in a single breath
Youll be surprise the acres of soothing lies I tell my worried breast
Bricks and bones, they form
And with stick and stones, they come
I wish they crumble two breaths at a time
The click of doorknob heaving a huge burden, to my dumb ears it apprise
What I wouldnt give for the door to swing again and after
What I wouldnt give to be the wind it flickers
Ill keep quiet in the hope that my fears will run like a thief wearing Nike sneakers

If I dont show you my fears its because youll find out
At the plot twist denude of suspense that is everything but far-fetch
And perhaps at your leisure well sit at the patio
Or any dimensional world that could be stressed
Youll show me how to draw them with art
And well paint their searing eyes with mud or tar

If I don’t write to you about my fears its cause am dead
Not lazy; not bored; not married and deliriously happy to write
But dead

Abu Aish MK Albani

Beauty is Not Measured

I turn the door knob and before the door pushes the stretch of air between us I hear your voice outside of the pages I had scribbled to preserve it. I hear it pass through the little opening that the door lends. Your voice was as I remembered it: gentle, promising, full of life, and accentuated with a smile. So I pause and I am sure to hear your smile before I see it. Where are the words to measure your smile? The door opens wide and you speak. You speak and I try to bend your full-stops into a comma, make fun of the comma and you introduce new paragraphs with question marks, make fun of my answers. You speak without editing yourself and I see beauty again. And I know I lack the words to measure it? So I decide to preserve this memory in the present tense. Hopefully, a present tense that spells out ad infinitum.

Abu A’ish Mk Albani

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