(A MIRAGE)
Some years back there was this girl who had a mad crush on me, everyone knew it, I too saw and knew it. She was beautiful, drop dead gorgeous, sharp looks I can't deny, a little bit of sophistication here and there, good taste and a sprinkle of class. I must admit that at one point I seriously took note of her too and developed quite an interest. Interest enough to try reaching out but at every point I was met with silly obstacles. Unreal things that even a completely blind eye could see, fake-ness so pronounced that even a bewitched mind could pick out.
I naturally loath making phone calls but can write a million words in a day, blame it on me, blame it on my poor phone call manners and my addiction to the written. Anyway, I approached the damsel and established contact, asked her if I could text to say hi or just check on how she was doing on the other side of the world from time to time. When she told me, "I don't do texts," I folded my tail between my slim legs like a scared dog that has passed through a treatment of the funeral catering service providers, ate humble pie and graciously walked away.
But, that is not actually the real reason why I walked away, the real reason lies in the fakeness I saw in the act, the trying to be something that is not that was glaringly apparent in the statement, maybe I would have called if I had seen a tiny morsel of real-ness rather than a person trying so hard to be something else to impress, I never called. Later in life those calls came from the other side of the phone line but my train by then had long left the station, real-ness had swept me off my feet and tied me to her, my soul was at rest and seeds of love had by then become beautiful scented flowers waiting to bring forth sweet fruits - the fruits have indeed come in folds over the years but that is a story for another day.
Back to my crush, it hit me that if maybe she didn't do texts she would be a tech savvy sophist so I asked her what she calls herself on Facebook for starters, I did ask because on Facebook and over the social media as you commonly know, even people you know have names you have never heard of and photos you can't recognize. My sole intention then had been expressly to initiate conversation there but then again the answer came, "I am sorry I don't do Facebook." Again I saw the fakeness as I backed down, I knew she did that Facebook and maybe more.
I went quiet for a while and when I saw her again with her classy touch screen phone, I again asked her, are you on WhatsApp? The reply came, "I don't do WhatsApp dear" as her well manicured slim fingers caressed the phone screen, never mind I was operating a stone age Mosaic era stone tablet by then, very efficient with the battery, network and as a source of light when thieves appear. How I miss my mulika mwizi.
I remember then telling myself loudly inside my head, "Oh! Oh! here we go again."
Alas and behold! It did not take even two years after that and there, I had a Facebook friend request from the very one who never did Facebook, her names were of cause not the ones I know but at least her photos were.
As we go back to the studio for a short commercial break, I need to report to you that we have ocassionaly chatted on WhatsApp from time to time and exchanged texts here and there.
I must admit that at times, I have been so tempted by this strong urge, sometimes I have felt a strong urge akin to someone hard pressed by a full bladder of urine to ask her, "how come you do these very things?" I have however kept my cool, it is called the art of keeping lanes.
Along to journey, somewhere along this station, my train left the station a long time ago and arrived at a different destination where true love attracted me, drew me, and like a moth to the light, I flew, arrived and has ever since been bewitched and imprisoned by the warm light of a real loves afterglow. The difference of being just real all through is fulfilling beyond compare and the need to act the part is none existent.
In the epilogue, someone came back when I had already been taken, the empty seats that existed by then are totally occupied and not even the walkway between the seats is empty. Furthermore, I have never seen her again through the very eyes I used to see her with, those brown eyes of the poet were taken by someone else who has been with me in this same train savouring the scenic beauties of our journey together as we travel along. Though she keeps seeing me, roadblocks, barriers and appropriate signs have I erected in place that define clearly the boundaries and where trespass cannot be allowed but is bound to be prosecuted spelt out clearly too.
As we get back on air, my home is firmly settled in this new train I have been in with this real queen with fairies long dead and gone. I am totally at peace and living a full life but most importantly, all that is here is real, the good, the bad and the ugly, the perfection and flaws. And that is what love is, naked abandon.
#TheChroniclesOfMyLoveLife
#ReflectionsOfThePoet
#Camistare2018
#WuonMor
#JaodNyaIsukha
Friday 14 December 2018
Friday 7 December 2018
A NOTE TO NYAKANO
Dear Jaber,
It's long since daddy said something to you,
But he has been saying a million things within him,
Even with just the thought of you.
So in a twisted way these very thoughts refused
to be a soliloquy inside daddy.
You radiate the sun itself,
You replicate the beauty of a full moon
on a clear night sky at Sidho in the vast Kano plains.
You remind me of stars on such a night,
and the stars remind me of your mother.
Memories, dreams, wishes, instances,
events and moments intertwined.
Nyar Yimbo,
You are the reason why the sky is blue,
I swear it's true for I see it when I look at you.
Dark clouds on my horizon,
they melt like ice somewhere in Lokichar
or magadi to total oblivion -
even just with the thought of you.
You are the reason why the earth spins on it's axis,
I mean it when I speak this.
I am trying to remember what life was
or rather how it was before you happened,
Before you appeared and took over every nook and cranny
of my atmosphere.
What seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks , months and years
were before you appeared,
I swear I am blank like a plain printing paper.
The data must have been erased for all I remember,
is life after you came.
The past is a mist, a collection of empty spaces.
Yours Forever
The Poet
#Camistare2018
#ReflectionsOfThePoet
#TotoaBaba
#TheLoudThoughtsOfaSilentPen
#FatherhoodChronicles
It's long since daddy said something to you,
But he has been saying a million things within him,
Even with just the thought of you.
So in a twisted way these very thoughts refused
to be a soliloquy inside daddy.
You radiate the sun itself,
You replicate the beauty of a full moon
on a clear night sky at Sidho in the vast Kano plains.
You remind me of stars on such a night,
and the stars remind me of your mother.
Memories, dreams, wishes, instances,
events and moments intertwined.
Nyar Yimbo,
You are the reason why the sky is blue,
I swear it's true for I see it when I look at you.
Dark clouds on my horizon,
they melt like ice somewhere in Lokichar
or magadi to total oblivion -
even just with the thought of you.
You are the reason why the earth spins on it's axis,
I mean it when I speak this.
I am trying to remember what life was
or rather how it was before you happened,
Before you appeared and took over every nook and cranny
of my atmosphere.
What seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks , months and years
were before you appeared,
I swear I am blank like a plain printing paper.
The data must have been erased for all I remember,
is life after you came.
The past is a mist, a collection of empty spaces.
Yours Forever
The Poet
#Camistare2018
#ReflectionsOfThePoet
#TotoaBaba
#TheLoudThoughtsOfaSilentPen
#FatherhoodChronicles
Saturday 10 November 2018
THE PARADOX
Someone must lose for another to win,
Someone must fall for another to rise,
Someone must stop for another to start,
Someone must die for another to thrive,
I talked to a hearse operator,
He lamented to me,
"My friends, times are hard,
people are not dying,
If it continues like this,
We will be out of business,
People need to die my friend.
Then I met the morgue attendant,
He was with the chief pathologist,
Both basking in the dull sun
on the morgue lawns.
He was gloomy and dull,
Then he began ranting,
"Business is low,
body counts have fallen,
If this trend continues,
I will have to pack up my gloves,
The post mortems are few,
My kids will go hungry,
My wife may leave me soon,
If people refuse to die.
Then I met the doctor,
He had on his face this plastic smile,
He shook my hand with a wicked glint
in his eye,
When I told him I am not seeking
medical attention,
He hit the roof for losing his precious
consultation fee.
I kept my smile,
He opened up,
"My friend, the times are hard,"
he confessed.
"The hospital beds are empty,
The queues are short,
The number of sick people
has drastically dropped.
I am afraid my dear friend that at this rate,
I may have to wind up practice."
My good doctor said.
I left the hearse operator praying,
May the Lord bless the work of his hand.
I left the morgue operator thinking,
Death is such a good thing,
Someone needs to die for the pathologist
to earn his daily bread,
And so is the morgue attendant,
Even the building cleaner.
I left the doctor thinking,
Someone needs to fall sick,
The medic must not wind up practice.
His lovely kids must not lack school fees,
Oh God, may you bless the work of his hands.
As my prayer ended,
I found me standing at the foot of my epitaph,
The creator of the masterpiece smiled,
I could see him singing as he made it,
The casket designer I never met
was dancing too as he made me a masterpiece,
The chorus and dance was marvellous,
The best part was the closing line of these
forgotten service providers,
"A hot meal at last, thank heavens."
The punchline ended the song,
I woke up dancing too, dancing and
meditatively thinking, thinking of the awesome balance
that life is,
Dying to live in the process.
So I am stick in this paradox,
Taking a nap with my one eye open,
Lest I slip into the unfathomable depths of the cousin of death,
Laymen call her sleep.
No deaths and no sickness translates to no business and no profits,
No matter the case,
Man must live.
#Camistare2018
#TheLoudThoughtsOfaSilentPen
#TheReflectionsOfThePoet
Someone must fall for another to rise,
Someone must stop for another to start,
Someone must die for another to thrive,
I talked to a hearse operator,
He lamented to me,
"My friends, times are hard,
people are not dying,
If it continues like this,
We will be out of business,
People need to die my friend.
Then I met the morgue attendant,
He was with the chief pathologist,
Both basking in the dull sun
on the morgue lawns.
He was gloomy and dull,
Then he began ranting,
"Business is low,
body counts have fallen,
If this trend continues,
I will have to pack up my gloves,
The post mortems are few,
My kids will go hungry,
My wife may leave me soon,
If people refuse to die.
Then I met the doctor,
He had on his face this plastic smile,
He shook my hand with a wicked glint
in his eye,
When I told him I am not seeking
medical attention,
He hit the roof for losing his precious
consultation fee.
I kept my smile,
He opened up,
"My friend, the times are hard,"
he confessed.
"The hospital beds are empty,
The queues are short,
The number of sick people
has drastically dropped.
I am afraid my dear friend that at this rate,
I may have to wind up practice."
My good doctor said.
I left the hearse operator praying,
May the Lord bless the work of his hand.
I left the morgue operator thinking,
Death is such a good thing,
Someone needs to die for the pathologist
to earn his daily bread,
And so is the morgue attendant,
Even the building cleaner.
I left the doctor thinking,
Someone needs to fall sick,
The medic must not wind up practice.
His lovely kids must not lack school fees,
Oh God, may you bless the work of his hands.
As my prayer ended,
I found me standing at the foot of my epitaph,
The creator of the masterpiece smiled,
I could see him singing as he made it,
The casket designer I never met
was dancing too as he made me a masterpiece,
The chorus and dance was marvellous,
The best part was the closing line of these
forgotten service providers,
"A hot meal at last, thank heavens."
The punchline ended the song,
I woke up dancing too, dancing and
meditatively thinking, thinking of the awesome balance
that life is,
Dying to live in the process.
So I am stick in this paradox,
Taking a nap with my one eye open,
Lest I slip into the unfathomable depths of the cousin of death,
Laymen call her sleep.
No deaths and no sickness translates to no business and no profits,
No matter the case,
Man must live.
#Camistare2018
#TheLoudThoughtsOfaSilentPen
#TheReflectionsOfThePoet
Friday 9 November 2018
A POWER SPEECH (A vagina's soliloquy)
I am a vagina.
I am powerful and weak in one stride.
I am honorable and dishonourable
in one stride.
They despise me,
Yet they got life through me,
They call me ugly,
Yet they constantly run after me,
Lose their heads over me,
Kill each other over me,
They abuse me,
Call me names,
Make fun of me,
Yet they all passed through me,
I gave them life and I don't brag
about it.
They underate me,
Yet I bring them down,
I literally make them bite the dust
and worms,
Yet they still brag about how they have
Conquered me.
I look at them and smile to myself,
Fools, I mutter to myself in amusement.
I am sweet,
I am addictive,
But I am also bitter and vindictive.
I am hot and embracing,
But I am also stone cold and disgusting,
I answer to the name you call me,
I deliver to the exact value you assign me.
I am stronger than your heart,
Tougher than your jaws, bones and teeth,
I get torn and recover,
I bleed yet soldier on,
I heal myself and make no demands,
I get abused and I protest not,
I still walk shoulder high,
I still rebound from the hardest lows,
I still make you find joy,
I pass through demeaning things,
Yet I still leave with all of me intact,
Even my ego, just in case you didn't know.
If you were put through half of what I have to cope with,
You would not last even a micro second.
I am resilient, I am a fighter, I am a beautiful thing,
That is why you can't get enough of me,
That is why you keep coming for more,
I am a vagina,
I am asking you to respect me,
We are not peers for God's sake,
I am a vagina.
Thank you.
#Camistare2018
#TheLoudThoughtsOfaSilentPen
#TheReflectionsOfThePoet
I am powerful and weak in one stride.
I am honorable and dishonourable
in one stride.
They despise me,
Yet they got life through me,
They call me ugly,
Yet they constantly run after me,
Lose their heads over me,
Kill each other over me,
They abuse me,
Call me names,
Make fun of me,
Yet they all passed through me,
I gave them life and I don't brag
about it.
They underate me,
Yet I bring them down,
I literally make them bite the dust
and worms,
Yet they still brag about how they have
Conquered me.
I look at them and smile to myself,
Fools, I mutter to myself in amusement.
I am sweet,
I am addictive,
But I am also bitter and vindictive.
I am hot and embracing,
But I am also stone cold and disgusting,
I answer to the name you call me,
I deliver to the exact value you assign me.
I am stronger than your heart,
Tougher than your jaws, bones and teeth,
I get torn and recover,
I bleed yet soldier on,
I heal myself and make no demands,
I get abused and I protest not,
I still walk shoulder high,
I still rebound from the hardest lows,
I still make you find joy,
I pass through demeaning things,
Yet I still leave with all of me intact,
Even my ego, just in case you didn't know.
If you were put through half of what I have to cope with,
You would not last even a micro second.
I am resilient, I am a fighter, I am a beautiful thing,
That is why you can't get enough of me,
That is why you keep coming for more,
I am a vagina,
I am asking you to respect me,
We are not peers for God's sake,
I am a vagina.
Thank you.
#Camistare2018
#TheLoudThoughtsOfaSilentPen
#TheReflectionsOfThePoet
ROASTED
I feel far away from the pearly Gates of heaven,
Hell bell tolls ring louder in my ears
than the sweet angelic heavenly choir,
My feet are closer to hell's boundaries than to heaven,
I am walking close to the fence of hell,
My life itself seems like hell more than it feels like earth,
My soul is thirsty,
Thirsty for a taste of heaven
Thirsty for something different,
For hell has been so hard on me,
If only my drained soul could get a little morsel of paradise,
If only a miracle messenger could cross over
and drip a little of the living waters,
On my dry, burning and cracked tongue.
My feet long for a different direction,
I have been lost in these thick woods,
The canopy blocking the sky,
The only light I see, these hellish flames,
The only warmth I feel,
These hellish heat,
And now I know I should not be here,
How do I trace back my way to paradise?
How do I get back to heaven?
Oh! How I hope I am not too late.
<Camistare 2018>
#TheReflectionsOfThePoet
#TheSilentThoughtsOfaLoudPen
Hell bell tolls ring louder in my ears
than the sweet angelic heavenly choir,
My feet are closer to hell's boundaries than to heaven,
I am walking close to the fence of hell,
My life itself seems like hell more than it feels like earth,
My soul is thirsty,
Thirsty for a taste of heaven
Thirsty for something different,
For hell has been so hard on me,
If only my drained soul could get a little morsel of paradise,
If only a miracle messenger could cross over
and drip a little of the living waters,
On my dry, burning and cracked tongue.
My feet long for a different direction,
I have been lost in these thick woods,
The canopy blocking the sky,
The only light I see, these hellish flames,
The only warmth I feel,
These hellish heat,
And now I know I should not be here,
How do I trace back my way to paradise?
How do I get back to heaven?
Oh! How I hope I am not too late.
<Camistare 2018>
#TheReflectionsOfThePoet
#TheSilentThoughtsOfaLoudPen
Friday 26 October 2018
LONGING FOR THE FLOODS
LONGING FOR THE FLOODS
They call me the man from Kano,
They praise my reputation world over,
Like an adage they repeat,
Jakano tek, to tar, to otimo leche,
I take it not as an insult,
I see it as an accolade,
I wear it with pride and wear it as my breast plate,
My navigation pole is long and firm,
It's not my fault,
Blame it on the adaptation,
My adaptation to the floods,
My legs are slim, long and firm,
My height is awesome,
Slightly above average,
Don't blame it on me,
Blame nature, nature that gave height to me,
Height good enough for the flooded rice pads.
I am a giant yet gentle,
Call me a gentle giant,
I am thirsty now, thirsty for love,
Thirsty for the floods,
My wading Kano pole is almost cracking
and bending,
The cracks widening,
becoming large enough to hide the old five shilling coin,
Large enough to trip a tiny damsels foot and cause a sprain,
The cracks of the anywang' (black cotton clay soil)
of Kano plains on a hot afternoon sun are incurable,
thanks to the hot sun and dryness.
Only the floods of the mighty river
nyando can seal the cracks now,
But am told River Nzoia would do a much better job,
So my pole needs a remedy,
A remedy of strong luhya love,
For only waters from a specific
Western river can seal these cracks.
This pole needs deeping, the floods.
Oh may the floods come again,
May they come and seal these wide cracks
on this black cotton soil,
May the floods come again and make the ignorant
understand what we mean when we say,
Jakano tek, to tar, to otimo leche.
I don't do deep sea diving,
that is for coastarians,
Some muddy floody wading
gives me the adrenaline and the dull Kano spark and glow.
May it rain, may the floods come again,
from the Western mountains.
I need me some deep luhya love.
*Jakano: Man from Kano
*Tek: Is strong or hardened
*To tar: and with a cracked dry skin
*To otimo leche: And is full of veins
#thesmittenpoet
#Camistare2018
#thereflectionsofthepoet
They call me the man from Kano,
They praise my reputation world over,
Like an adage they repeat,
Jakano tek, to tar, to otimo leche,
I take it not as an insult,
I see it as an accolade,
I wear it with pride and wear it as my breast plate,
My navigation pole is long and firm,
It's not my fault,
Blame it on the adaptation,
My adaptation to the floods,
My legs are slim, long and firm,
My height is awesome,
Slightly above average,
Don't blame it on me,
Blame nature, nature that gave height to me,
Height good enough for the flooded rice pads.
I am a giant yet gentle,
Call me a gentle giant,
I am thirsty now, thirsty for love,
Thirsty for the floods,
My wading Kano pole is almost cracking
and bending,
The cracks widening,
becoming large enough to hide the old five shilling coin,
Large enough to trip a tiny damsels foot and cause a sprain,
The cracks of the anywang' (black cotton clay soil)
of Kano plains on a hot afternoon sun are incurable,
thanks to the hot sun and dryness.
Only the floods of the mighty river
nyando can seal the cracks now,
But am told River Nzoia would do a much better job,
So my pole needs a remedy,
A remedy of strong luhya love,
For only waters from a specific
Western river can seal these cracks.
This pole needs deeping, the floods.
Oh may the floods come again,
May they come and seal these wide cracks
on this black cotton soil,
May the floods come again and make the ignorant
understand what we mean when we say,
Jakano tek, to tar, to otimo leche.
I don't do deep sea diving,
that is for coastarians,
Some muddy floody wading
gives me the adrenaline and the dull Kano spark and glow.
May it rain, may the floods come again,
from the Western mountains.
I need me some deep luhya love.
*Jakano: Man from Kano
*Tek: Is strong or hardened
*To tar: and with a cracked dry skin
*To otimo leche: And is full of veins
#thesmittenpoet
#Camistare2018
#thereflectionsofthepoet
Saturday 8 September 2018
THIS STORY
This story has been written
for a very long time but it must end now.
It doesn't matter if it is complete or not,
It must end on this note.
It doesn't matter if it needs a comma or a full stop,
it must stop right here, right now, this moment.
Tear this page, tear these chapters,
they have been chapters of pain,
they have been pages and pages of disappointments,
and discouragement.
They have been tales of failure,
tales of insignificance,
tales of nothingness,
tales of trying against all odds
with no results to show for strenuous effort.
I must tear these pages,
I must burn these chapters,
I must destroy this manuscript,
I must stop now, throw everything away and start a fresh.
This story must take a detour,
it must take a new turn, a different turn.
It must stop now for the next one to begin,
It must take a new turn, a new twist,
It must die to get a new life,
It must die to live.
It doesn't matter how thrilling,
how enchanting, how captivating, how engaging it sounds.
It has been a story of tiredness and dead dreams,
a story of visions and hopes nipped in the bud.
I must leave this story now,
to rewrite a new one with a happy beginning,
a merry body and a happy ending.
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#Camistare2018
#TheScreamingThoughtsOfASilentPen
for a very long time but it must end now.
It doesn't matter if it is complete or not,
It must end on this note.
It doesn't matter if it needs a comma or a full stop,
it must stop right here, right now, this moment.
Tear this page, tear these chapters,
they have been chapters of pain,
they have been pages and pages of disappointments,
and discouragement.
They have been tales of failure,
tales of insignificance,
tales of nothingness,
tales of trying against all odds
with no results to show for strenuous effort.
I must tear these pages,
I must burn these chapters,
I must destroy this manuscript,
I must stop now, throw everything away and start a fresh.
This story must take a detour,
it must take a new turn, a different turn.
It must stop now for the next one to begin,
It must take a new turn, a new twist,
It must die to get a new life,
It must die to live.
It doesn't matter how thrilling,
how enchanting, how captivating, how engaging it sounds.
It has been a story of tiredness and dead dreams,
a story of visions and hopes nipped in the bud.
I must leave this story now,
to rewrite a new one with a happy beginning,
a merry body and a happy ending.
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#Camistare2018
#TheScreamingThoughtsOfASilentPen
Wednesday 5 September 2018
A TRIBUTE FOR A SLAIN "PROSTITUTE"
I have seen the self righteous justify murder,
I have seen them blame the victim,
I have seen them say plainly she deserved to die,
to be killed,
I have seen them kill her again,
I have seen them kill her a second time.
I have seen better Christians mock her morality,
I have seen them join the Pharisees
and stone her for appalling immorality
I have seen them mock Jesus as he tells them,
'let he who has never sinned throw the first stone.'
I have seen better parents,
parents who have raised better girls
say that it serves her right.
I have heard them hurl hurting epithets,
utter derogatory names,
say mean things in the name of advising
the dead girl and others with ill manners like her.
the dead girl and others with ill manners like her.
The advice of cause excludes their children,
they only gave birth to spotless saints and angels,
well raised kids to be precise.
they only gave birth to spotless saints and angels,
well raised kids to be precise.
I have seen these pretenders and
remembered mercy.
I have heard them and remembered
the second thief on the cross,
the second thief on the cross,
I have remembered the words of Jesus,
tonight you shall sit with me in paradise.
I have seen girls and properly raised
women kill one of their own,
I have seen them shame her dead
vagina,
I have seen them call it names,
I have seen them accuse heri
illicitunborn child who will
illicitunborn child who will
unfortunately never see the sun like
her mum too.
I need not ask like Jesus,
'woman where are your accusers'
They are loud, violent and right,
they are spotless, unquestionable, right and loud,
they are violent and formidable.
I have seen them laugh, jeer and sneer
at her wiped out bright future.
I have seen them speak in righteous anger,
I have seen them poke her forever
shut eyes with fingers of rage,
I have seen them blaming her for
dating a married man and I hear
his son too,
But I have heard none of them call
the men in question,
I have seen none of them blame
the married man for dating a young
girl.
How can they?
How can they when they are better
humans?
How can they when they are holier
women?
How can they when they have better
children?
How can they when they don't know
how it feels for your child to be
murdered in cold blood?
How can they when they have never
been in those shoes?
How can they when they know it all?
How can they not be right when the
dead victim of circumstances is the
one totally wrong?
How can they when their, sons, husbands,
and daughters are angels?
How can they know?
No I will not blame them,
I will not blame them for being ignorant,
I will not blame them for being blunt,
I will not blame them for being cold,
I will not blame them for being stupid,
I will not blame them for being right,
I will not blame them for giving great
motherly advice to a dead and cold
thing,
I will not blame them,
I will not blame them for being heartless,
I will not blame them for being mean,
I will not blame them for being inhumane,
I will not blame them for being unchristian.
I will not because if I do I may vomit
and eat my own vomit.
Otherwise how can I make them see,
she did not deserve to die,
neither did the seed in her womb?
A tribute to a life cut short.
#themusingsofamadman
#thescreamingthoughtsofasilentpen
#Camistare2018
LET US PRAY
Let us pray.
That is the word we utter when we
reach the outer limits of our wits,
when we come to a dead end,
when we come to the end of
our thinking capacity,
when our intelligence and brilliance
has hit a snag,
It is the word we speak when we
encounter turmoil, fierce storms,
and formidable difficulties,
It is the word we speak when
impossibilities stare at us straight
in the face,
It is the word we speak when poop
hits the fan and we need the heavens
to clean up the mess,
when we recognize nothing else
can get things back to the rightful
place.
Let us pray,
that is the word we say sometimes
when we want to pretend,
when we want to fit in the mix,
when we want the religious to
overlook out atrocities and embrace
us.
Let us pray,
It is the word we remember when
nothing else remains,
when at crossroads we arrive at
the end of the road,
It is the word we remember when
the pains of the thorns in our flesh
are intense and give us no peace,
It is the word we utter when
temptations become stronger than
us, outsmart us and overrun us.
Let us pray,
It is the word we will say when we
lose what we can't replace and often
forget when we win and when
we gain.
Let us pray,
It is the word we may forget when
we have meals but never fail to say
when the meals get scarce.
It is the solace we run to, the solace
we turn to when all else has ceased
to make sense,
When all else has turned upside down.
Let us pray.
Oh! The magic three words.
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
#thescreamingthoughtsofasilentpen
#reflectionsofthepoet
That is the word we utter when we
reach the outer limits of our wits,
when we come to a dead end,
when we come to the end of
our thinking capacity,
when our intelligence and brilliance
has hit a snag,
It is the word we speak when we
encounter turmoil, fierce storms,
and formidable difficulties,
It is the word we speak when
impossibilities stare at us straight
in the face,
It is the word we speak when poop
hits the fan and we need the heavens
to clean up the mess,
when we recognize nothing else
can get things back to the rightful
place.
Let us pray,
that is the word we say sometimes
when we want to pretend,
when we want to fit in the mix,
when we want the religious to
overlook out atrocities and embrace
us.
Let us pray,
It is the word we remember when
nothing else remains,
when at crossroads we arrive at
the end of the road,
It is the word we remember when
the pains of the thorns in our flesh
are intense and give us no peace,
It is the word we utter when
temptations become stronger than
us, outsmart us and overrun us.
Let us pray,
It is the word we will say when we
lose what we can't replace and often
forget when we win and when
we gain.
Let us pray,
It is the word we may forget when
we have meals but never fail to say
when the meals get scarce.
It is the solace we run to, the solace
we turn to when all else has ceased
to make sense,
When all else has turned upside down.
Let us pray.
Oh! The magic three words.
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
#thescreamingthoughtsofasilentpen
#reflectionsofthepoet
A CUP OF HOT COFFEE
When the cold is chilling my bones,
and the hormones are raging within,
and the car blood in my veins cry for
heating,
I remember things, creepy things,
creepy things come to my mind,
thoughts and wise quotes like,
'two are better than one,
when two lie together they keep
warm.'
I shake my head to clear the fog,
but before I can clearly see,
the 'Arrow of God pops to my eyes,
And I hear Chinua Achebe speaking
to me, telling me, enlightening me,
with this magic African wisdom,
He tells me,
"The penis that does not die young
will one day eat meat with beards"
It's the effect of this cold,
If you don't mind, could you please
bring me a hot cup of coffee?
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
#thescreamingthoughtsofasilentpen
and the hormones are raging within,
and the car blood in my veins cry for
heating,
I remember things, creepy things,
creepy things come to my mind,
thoughts and wise quotes like,
'two are better than one,
when two lie together they keep
warm.'
I shake my head to clear the fog,
but before I can clearly see,
the 'Arrow of God pops to my eyes,
And I hear Chinua Achebe speaking
to me, telling me, enlightening me,
with this magic African wisdom,
He tells me,
"The penis that does not die young
will one day eat meat with beards"
It's the effect of this cold,
If you don't mind, could you please
bring me a hot cup of coffee?
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
#thescreamingthoughtsofasilentpen
Saturday 1 September 2018
ONE DAY I WILL
One day I will look at you who wrote me off in the eye and tell you, "see, I told you so."
One day I will look at you whose voice kept pointing at my failures, you whose ratings were always about my nothingness, you whose pieces of advice were always about the impracticability of my dreams, whose words of comfort to me were always a pointer to impossibilities and the stupidity of my dreams and how I should downsize my dreams and live in reality.
One day I will look at you who told me to dream small when I had big dreams, wou unto you when that day comes for one day I will.
One day I will look at you in the eye, you who always told me I will amount to nothing, you who always knew best what my life should be and the scope of things I can achieve and those that are off limits for a mortal like me,
One day I will look at you in the eye and tell you, "look what I have become, look what I made of the reject you downgraded, look what I made of the negativity you always built around me, see, I told you."
One day i will look at you in the eye and tell you, "see your life," I will put my hands inside my pocket so that I show you not a certain finger not that you deserve to be shown,
not that you don't deserve it for being such a jackass but simply because I am above that.
I won't so as not to compete you at your level.
One day I will look at you in the eye and remind you of these words because,
As long as am still moving, even if it is not walking or even if it is a walk that you can't make out if indeed it is a walk or lost staggering,
even if at worse I am not even walking or staggering but is in effect crawling or at worse rolling over on my belly and side and back as life tosses and turns me down this slippery slope,
as long as I am still moving,
keep quiet or if you so chose to speak, get ready for the day I will indeed tell you,
"See, I told you so," for as sure as heaven and hell, I will get there,
so my dear, better watch out as my life happens behind the scenes.
I told you so.
One day, one day I will,
Wou unto you that day.
That day I will slap back and tell you to turn the other cheek,
I will laugh at you and tell you to swallow the bitter pill,
I will step on your toes and tell you not to wince,
Fix you in the shoes I have been and tell you not to raise a finger.
I will put you in an uncomfortable position and ask you not to protest,
I will ask you to be humble and to just accept your fate,
I will tell you to not raise your voice in complain,
I will ask you to keep quiet and speak not about your priceless self dignity.
One day I will, that day I will, One day I will.
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#Camistare2018
#TheScreamingThoughsOfASilentPen
#ThePoet
One day I will look at you whose voice kept pointing at my failures, you whose ratings were always about my nothingness, you whose pieces of advice were always about the impracticability of my dreams, whose words of comfort to me were always a pointer to impossibilities and the stupidity of my dreams and how I should downsize my dreams and live in reality.
One day I will look at you who told me to dream small when I had big dreams, wou unto you when that day comes for one day I will.
One day I will look at you in the eye, you who always told me I will amount to nothing, you who always knew best what my life should be and the scope of things I can achieve and those that are off limits for a mortal like me,
One day I will look at you in the eye and tell you, "look what I have become, look what I made of the reject you downgraded, look what I made of the negativity you always built around me, see, I told you."
One day i will look at you in the eye and tell you, "see your life," I will put my hands inside my pocket so that I show you not a certain finger not that you deserve to be shown,
not that you don't deserve it for being such a jackass but simply because I am above that.
I won't so as not to compete you at your level.
One day I will look at you in the eye and remind you of these words because,
As long as am still moving, even if it is not walking or even if it is a walk that you can't make out if indeed it is a walk or lost staggering,
even if at worse I am not even walking or staggering but is in effect crawling or at worse rolling over on my belly and side and back as life tosses and turns me down this slippery slope,
as long as I am still moving,
keep quiet or if you so chose to speak, get ready for the day I will indeed tell you,
"See, I told you so," for as sure as heaven and hell, I will get there,
so my dear, better watch out as my life happens behind the scenes.
I told you so.
One day, one day I will,
Wou unto you that day.
That day I will slap back and tell you to turn the other cheek,
I will laugh at you and tell you to swallow the bitter pill,
I will step on your toes and tell you not to wince,
Fix you in the shoes I have been and tell you not to raise a finger.
I will put you in an uncomfortable position and ask you not to protest,
I will ask you to be humble and to just accept your fate,
I will tell you to not raise your voice in complain,
I will ask you to keep quiet and speak not about your priceless self dignity.
One day I will, that day I will, One day I will.
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#Camistare2018
#TheScreamingThoughsOfASilentPen
#ThePoet
Friday 31 August 2018
SINFUL FANTASIES
I have made love to you a million times in my secret fantasies,
I have explored your nookes and curves,
your straights and bends, your shallows and depths.
I have drunk intensely from your sweet fountains
and got myself more intoxicated.
I have fantasised about your beautiful mounds,
the fine hills on your chest, the sharp peaks.
I have mouthed to myself a gazillion
beautiful compliments,
told you countless sweet nothings in my fantasies.
I have felt things in places, places within
- unmentionable.
I have done things with you in my fantasies,
crazy things, "sinful" things.
I have touched places, parts, and other things.
I have given you uncountable kisses
in my wild dreams and fantasies
and still got lost in the sweetness of your lips.
I have imagined,
I have longed to taste the nectar in your tongue,
Something tells me you drip of pure sweet honey,
Would you mind if I find out?
I have done countless styles, existing and invented,
switched lanes and positions uncountable times
in these fantastic fantasies.
I have shifted gears, altered rythms, changed speeds,
driven fast, slowed down, stopped abruptly,
applied brakes, sometimes emergency ones
in these unceasing fantasies.
I have yearned, I have longed, I have wanted,
I have burned with desire, I have been consumed,
and still, I can't seem to get you of my mind,
all these crazy things, hot dreams, wet dreams,
and daytime fantasies, night-time dreams
and full time longings.
Am I crazy?
Or what is this that is happening to me?
I don't know, maybe you tell me.
Am I crazy?
#TheSmittenPoet
#Camistare2018
#TheScreamingThoughtsOfASilentPen
I have explored your nookes and curves,
your straights and bends, your shallows and depths.
I have drunk intensely from your sweet fountains
and got myself more intoxicated.
I have fantasised about your beautiful mounds,
the fine hills on your chest, the sharp peaks.
I have mouthed to myself a gazillion
beautiful compliments,
told you countless sweet nothings in my fantasies.
I have felt things in places, places within
- unmentionable.
I have done things with you in my fantasies,
crazy things, "sinful" things.
I have touched places, parts, and other things.
I have given you uncountable kisses
in my wild dreams and fantasies
and still got lost in the sweetness of your lips.
I have imagined,
I have longed to taste the nectar in your tongue,
Something tells me you drip of pure sweet honey,
Would you mind if I find out?
I have done countless styles, existing and invented,
switched lanes and positions uncountable times
in these fantastic fantasies.
I have shifted gears, altered rythms, changed speeds,
driven fast, slowed down, stopped abruptly,
applied brakes, sometimes emergency ones
in these unceasing fantasies.
I have yearned, I have longed, I have wanted,
I have burned with desire, I have been consumed,
and still, I can't seem to get you of my mind,
all these crazy things, hot dreams, wet dreams,
and daytime fantasies, night-time dreams
and full time longings.
Am I crazy?
Or what is this that is happening to me?
I don't know, maybe you tell me.
Am I crazy?
#TheSmittenPoet
#Camistare2018
#TheScreamingThoughtsOfASilentPen
Thursday 30 August 2018
COULD YOU ALLOW ME PLEASE?
I have seen your pain,
I have known the battles you have fought,
I have seen your fresh wounds,
I have seen your healed permanent scars.
Some say they are ugly but in them,
I see marks won with grace and elegance.
I dare say,
"champions are never embarrassed of their scars."
You make me dare say thus
when I look at your beautiful scars,
marks of painful memories.
I have seen the broken pieces of your delicate heart,
I have seen the shredded pieces of your beautiful soul
and had a clear glimpse of the countless
fragments of your broken spirit.
I have had a glimpse of the hollowness within your soul,
the dark void I yearn to fill,
And countless times,
my heart has wept along,
my soul has mourned and mourned.
I have seen the droplets of hot painful tears in your eyes,
I have seen intense pain sear right through you.
I have heard silent conversations,
of past painful memories you would rather not talk about.
I have seen the salty marks, left behind by the tears
that dried before I saw them.
So, I now beg of you but for one thing,
Could you please allow me to hold you in my arms?
Could you allow me,
to offer you the healing balm of comfort?
Could you please let my sympathetic lips to kiss
away the salty tears in your eyes,
making rivers on your sweet cheeks?
Could you please,
let my open arms be a source of solace?
Could you please allow me,
Could you please allow me to protect you
in the warmth of my caring embrace?
I have seen you go through hell and walk out.
Could you please allow me,
to hold your hand and walk with you now?
I know you are strong,
and have always walked alone,
I see it in your gait, I notice it in your resolve,
yet still I dare to dream and yearn,
Could you allow me,
to get beneath your skin and share your pain?
Could you please allow me,
Could you please allow me to be the fragrance
of fresh roses you never had when hell knocked
on your door and spun your heavenly world,
three hundred and sixty degrees?
I know I have asked you to allow me
to do more than one thing at this point,
But could you please allow me,
to put it all into one thing?
Could you please allow me?
Could you please allow me to love you
like no one ever loved you before?
Could you please allow me to love you
like you never knew love?
Could you please allow me to love you?
That's the one and only thing,
I actually wanted to ask you.
Could you please allow me to love you?
I shall be at your doorstep,
waiting for you to say Yes.
#YoursSmittenThePoet
#Camistare2018
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#TheScreamingThoughtsOfASilentPen
I have known the battles you have fought,
I have seen your fresh wounds,
I have seen your healed permanent scars.
Some say they are ugly but in them,
I see marks won with grace and elegance.
I dare say,
"champions are never embarrassed of their scars."
You make me dare say thus
when I look at your beautiful scars,
marks of painful memories.
I have seen the broken pieces of your delicate heart,
I have seen the shredded pieces of your beautiful soul
and had a clear glimpse of the countless
fragments of your broken spirit.
I have had a glimpse of the hollowness within your soul,
the dark void I yearn to fill,
And countless times,
my heart has wept along,
my soul has mourned and mourned.
I have seen the droplets of hot painful tears in your eyes,
I have seen intense pain sear right through you.
I have heard silent conversations,
of past painful memories you would rather not talk about.
I have seen the salty marks, left behind by the tears
that dried before I saw them.
So, I now beg of you but for one thing,
Could you please allow me to hold you in my arms?
Could you allow me,
to offer you the healing balm of comfort?
Could you please let my sympathetic lips to kiss
away the salty tears in your eyes,
making rivers on your sweet cheeks?
Could you please,
let my open arms be a source of solace?
Could you please allow me,
Could you please allow me to protect you
in the warmth of my caring embrace?
I have seen you go through hell and walk out.
Could you please allow me,
to hold your hand and walk with you now?
I know you are strong,
and have always walked alone,
I see it in your gait, I notice it in your resolve,
yet still I dare to dream and yearn,
Could you allow me,
to get beneath your skin and share your pain?
Could you please allow me,
Could you please allow me to be the fragrance
of fresh roses you never had when hell knocked
on your door and spun your heavenly world,
three hundred and sixty degrees?
I know I have asked you to allow me
to do more than one thing at this point,
But could you please allow me,
to put it all into one thing?
Could you please allow me?
Could you please allow me to love you
like no one ever loved you before?
Could you please allow me to love you
like you never knew love?
Could you please allow me to love you?
That's the one and only thing,
I actually wanted to ask you.
Could you please allow me to love you?
I shall be at your doorstep,
waiting for you to say Yes.
#YoursSmittenThePoet
#Camistare2018
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#TheScreamingThoughtsOfASilentPen
Friday 24 August 2018
MAY I PLEASE!
MAY I
I am just wondering!
Your finger is so cute, it gives me thoughts,
thoughts that would make the holier than thou
faint if they got wind of.
So I am wondering,
Can I hold it please?
Can I wrap my slender fingers on it?
Maybe I am extreme and overboard now,
But I can't help myself,
Can' I at least put your beautiful finger
in my moist lips please?
I am begging, pleading, beseeching.
I am losing it.
Am wondering, if you don't mind,
Can I gently put it in my
wet, warm mouth and suck it?
Please! Please! Please!
My goodness, I am damn curious.
I am dying from this curiosity,
yearning, burning, longing.
Can I dear? May I please?
Oh! No no no no no no, that sweet curve on your face!
It's doing crazy things to my head,
Can I please trace my finger on its beautiful edges?
Just my fingers,or just a finger please:
I am dying to touch the feel.
My fingers are itching; burning with longing,
overwhelming me with a desire I cannot explain.
If you don't mind please,
can I just touch your beautiful lips?
Just a touch please!
And now my mouth is killing me too,
my tongue is longing, loaded with intense desire,
a desire to taste the sweetness locked in there,
a sweetness so intense that I am willing to dare.
What can I do? What will I do?
Can I at least save me from this death please?
I am just wondering,
wondering how they would feel on your beautiful cheeks.
Can I at least find out? Just the cheeks!
I promise I won't break the boundaries
even though I am wondering,
wondering how it would feel like if this lips
left your cheeks and strayed
to the beautiful curves on your face - your lips.
Something tells me there is heaven inside your mouth,
but I am afraid to dare so I won't ask if it is okay if I ask to find out with mine.
I just feel it in my gut though, I just have this intense feeling,
that inside the crevice of your sweet, beautifully curled lips dwells paradise.
And I mean not paradise lost but in essence paradise unexplored.
I am telling temptation no, but my tongue is curious,
damn you tongue, damn me, damn!
My tongue is persistent, it has found it's own mind,
I don't mean to be rude but my tongue is asking me to ask you,
"If you don't mind dear,
can I just pass it over the beautiful grove on your neck?"
Damn! Here goes my gapped teeth asking,
begging, pleading, please, please, please,
Can I just do a tender bite on the lobes of your ears?
There is something so beautifully nice and tempting about them.
I promise to blow soothing air from my soul
if I bite hard though I won't bite hard. You have my word.
I promise. I promise to keep my word.
Can I please?
May I please?
And now my arms, oh my 'sinful arms!"
My arms are strangling me, suffocating me, choking me,
straddling me to this executioners chair,
giving me an ultimatum, daring me, telling me I must ask,
"Beautiful one please, can I melt in your beautiful
open arms and hold you in mine?
Please! Please! Please!"
I promise to do nothing more,
but just to listen to the soft beating of your heart on mine,
it will heal this ache I feel, I don't know how but I know it will.
May I beautiful one? May I please?
And if I cannot do any of that,
may I just at least please fall in love with you
every new day as I faithfully carry this sweet ache?
Can I dear? May I please?
I swear this last bit is also true,
truer than anything else I know.
It is true you were created from my side.
That is why a part of me had been missing
- all those years until the day I met you.
I knew there and then it had to be you,
I still do know the same to be true now.
I know it because you perfectly fitted
the empty hollow spaces that existed before you came,
fitted so exactly like the perfect missing piece
of an incomplete jigsaw puzzle put in it's rightful place.
I swear, whoever looks at me now,
I mean; whoever looks at us cannot even see,
the faintest of signs that at some point in time,
something in me was broken, something was missing,
the person cannot even find the fault lines
or the connected edges, we fit each other seamlessly - we are one.
Something needed fixing, someone needed fixing,
I needed fixing, then you came along.
You were and are both the missing fixing and the fixer,
all wrapped into one with a beautiful ribbon on it.
Now all they see is a complete man.
My head needed a neck to stand on,
a neck to direct it, make it turn and move,
my head needed a neck to hold it in place,
a neck to connect it to the rest of my body,
a neck to enable by head to communicate with my whole system,
a neck to prop it well to see the dreams -
bigger dreams than the present things I had been seeing.
Yes I agree, my head needed you to complete this perfect picturesque.
I am just curious, curious if I may just taste,
taste all these or just potions maybe.
Something tells me I will be sated if I just taste,
even if I feed not my curiosity, just a taste.
A taste would be enough even when I fear
it may tempt me to ask for more.
I am just curious, oh you sweet being,
curious of the things you turn on,
curious of how you turn me on,
Can I dear? May I please?
I am just curious, would you mind a cup of tea?
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#TheSmittenPoet
#Camistare2018
I am just wondering!
Your finger is so cute, it gives me thoughts,
thoughts that would make the holier than thou
faint if they got wind of.
So I am wondering,
Can I hold it please?
Can I wrap my slender fingers on it?
Maybe I am extreme and overboard now,
But I can't help myself,
Can' I at least put your beautiful finger
in my moist lips please?
I am begging, pleading, beseeching.
I am losing it.
Am wondering, if you don't mind,
Can I gently put it in my
wet, warm mouth and suck it?
Please! Please! Please!
My goodness, I am damn curious.
I am dying from this curiosity,
yearning, burning, longing.
Can I dear? May I please?
Oh! No no no no no no, that sweet curve on your face!
It's doing crazy things to my head,
Can I please trace my finger on its beautiful edges?
Just my fingers,or just a finger please:
I am dying to touch the feel.
My fingers are itching; burning with longing,
overwhelming me with a desire I cannot explain.
If you don't mind please,
can I just touch your beautiful lips?
Just a touch please!
And now my mouth is killing me too,
my tongue is longing, loaded with intense desire,
a desire to taste the sweetness locked in there,
a sweetness so intense that I am willing to dare.
What can I do? What will I do?
Can I at least save me from this death please?
I am just wondering,
wondering how they would feel on your beautiful cheeks.
Can I at least find out? Just the cheeks!
I promise I won't break the boundaries
even though I am wondering,
wondering how it would feel like if this lips
left your cheeks and strayed
to the beautiful curves on your face - your lips.
Something tells me there is heaven inside your mouth,
but I am afraid to dare so I won't ask if it is okay if I ask to find out with mine.
I just feel it in my gut though, I just have this intense feeling,
that inside the crevice of your sweet, beautifully curled lips dwells paradise.
And I mean not paradise lost but in essence paradise unexplored.
I am telling temptation no, but my tongue is curious,
damn you tongue, damn me, damn!
My tongue is persistent, it has found it's own mind,
I don't mean to be rude but my tongue is asking me to ask you,
"If you don't mind dear,
can I just pass it over the beautiful grove on your neck?"
Damn! Here goes my gapped teeth asking,
begging, pleading, please, please, please,
Can I just do a tender bite on the lobes of your ears?
There is something so beautifully nice and tempting about them.
I promise to blow soothing air from my soul
if I bite hard though I won't bite hard. You have my word.
I promise. I promise to keep my word.
Can I please?
May I please?
And now my arms, oh my 'sinful arms!"
My arms are strangling me, suffocating me, choking me,
straddling me to this executioners chair,
giving me an ultimatum, daring me, telling me I must ask,
"Beautiful one please, can I melt in your beautiful
open arms and hold you in mine?
Please! Please! Please!"
I promise to do nothing more,
but just to listen to the soft beating of your heart on mine,
it will heal this ache I feel, I don't know how but I know it will.
May I beautiful one? May I please?
And if I cannot do any of that,
may I just at least please fall in love with you
every new day as I faithfully carry this sweet ache?
Can I dear? May I please?
I swear this last bit is also true,
truer than anything else I know.
It is true you were created from my side.
That is why a part of me had been missing
- all those years until the day I met you.
I knew there and then it had to be you,
I still do know the same to be true now.
I know it because you perfectly fitted
the empty hollow spaces that existed before you came,
fitted so exactly like the perfect missing piece
of an incomplete jigsaw puzzle put in it's rightful place.
I swear, whoever looks at me now,
I mean; whoever looks at us cannot even see,
the faintest of signs that at some point in time,
something in me was broken, something was missing,
the person cannot even find the fault lines
or the connected edges, we fit each other seamlessly - we are one.
Something needed fixing, someone needed fixing,
I needed fixing, then you came along.
You were and are both the missing fixing and the fixer,
all wrapped into one with a beautiful ribbon on it.
Now all they see is a complete man.
My head needed a neck to stand on,
a neck to direct it, make it turn and move,
my head needed a neck to hold it in place,
a neck to connect it to the rest of my body,
a neck to enable by head to communicate with my whole system,
a neck to prop it well to see the dreams -
bigger dreams than the present things I had been seeing.
Yes I agree, my head needed you to complete this perfect picturesque.
I am just curious, curious if I may just taste,
taste all these or just potions maybe.
Something tells me I will be sated if I just taste,
even if I feed not my curiosity, just a taste.
A taste would be enough even when I fear
it may tempt me to ask for more.
I am just curious, oh you sweet being,
curious of the things you turn on,
curious of how you turn me on,
Can I dear? May I please?
I am just curious, would you mind a cup of tea?
#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#TheSmittenPoet
#Camistare2018
Friday 17 August 2018
GIVE ME FREEDOM
GIVE ME FREEDOM
Take everything away from me but give me freedom,
Help me, assist me, but give me my freedom.
Educate me but give me freedom.
Give me aid but leave me my freedom,
Mock me, abuse me, revile me, hate me, loath me,
jeer me, encourage me, support me,
demean me if you want to, but leave me my freedom.
Torture my soul, break my heart, cause me pain,
persecute me if you must but set me free.
Take away everything from me if you must,
but leave me my self dignity, let me be,
let me be me, let me be free, give me freedom.
I am not requesting, I am demanding,
I am not pleading, I am stating;
I want freedom and I want it now,
My freedom to chose, my freedom to think,
My freedom to my opinion, my freedom to feel,
my freedom to express, my freedom to speak,
my freedom to decide, my freedom to become,
my freedom to be who I am, who I was meant to be.
So take away everything from me but give me freedom.
Give me freedom I repeat!
Tie my feet in chains and heavy shackles if you must,
but give me freedom.
Give me freedom I reapeat!
With freedom I can recover everything I lost,
With freedom I can recapture everything beseiged,
I can create every dream unseen.
With freedom I can rebuild everything destroyed,
I can take back everything plundered,
With freedom I can get back everything I lost.
Take away everything from me but leave me free.
This is my one man mass protest for freedom.
If I am not given freedom, then by force shall I take,
For at this crossroad, there is only one path to take,
that path with a bold sign, the bold sign reads "FREEDOM"
Give me freedom or give me nothing.
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
Take everything away from me but give me freedom,
Help me, assist me, but give me my freedom.
Educate me but give me freedom.
Give me aid but leave me my freedom,
Mock me, abuse me, revile me, hate me, loath me,
jeer me, encourage me, support me,
demean me if you want to, but leave me my freedom.
Torture my soul, break my heart, cause me pain,
persecute me if you must but set me free.
Take away everything from me if you must,
but leave me my self dignity, let me be,
let me be me, let me be free, give me freedom.
I am not requesting, I am demanding,
I am not pleading, I am stating;
I want freedom and I want it now,
My freedom to chose, my freedom to think,
My freedom to my opinion, my freedom to feel,
my freedom to express, my freedom to speak,
my freedom to decide, my freedom to become,
my freedom to be who I am, who I was meant to be.
So take away everything from me but give me freedom.
Give me freedom I repeat!
Tie my feet in chains and heavy shackles if you must,
but give me freedom.
Give me freedom I reapeat!
With freedom I can recover everything I lost,
With freedom I can recapture everything beseiged,
I can create every dream unseen.
With freedom I can rebuild everything destroyed,
I can take back everything plundered,
With freedom I can get back everything I lost.
Take away everything from me but leave me free.
This is my one man mass protest for freedom.
If I am not given freedom, then by force shall I take,
For at this crossroad, there is only one path to take,
that path with a bold sign, the bold sign reads "FREEDOM"
Give me freedom or give me nothing.
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
FROM HELL WITH A FRESH ROSE
FROM HELL WITH A FRESH ROSE
We used to chat alot, I still remember the phone calls, the endless text messages, the Facebook pokes, likes and what have you.
I still remember how many times we went out, how many times we slept in, how many times we laughed at nothing and made vague promises to have it everlasting.
That was before it happened.
When I started to vomit in the morning and at any other time when I smelt anything aromatic or oduors or even for no particular reason at all, Onyango told me, "I don't want to see you anymore."
When I asked him, "why now?"
He replied coldly, "I don't know"
That was before I even lost my smashing figure, it was before my beautiful treetop legs started swelling like inflated hot air balloons,
it was before my flat tummy metamorphed into what they now call my contorted ugly belly.
When Onyango pulled a Judas Iscariot on me I thought to myself, maybe I will find solace elsewhere so I called my most trusted buddy -Kamau.
I tried to find solace in Kamau,
told him he was responsible for my sickness for he had been a culprit too, a sure tasting stick inside my molten honey pot but all he said to me was, "madam hiyo sahau."
I tried to tell him he might be responsible but all he said was, "madam wacha madharau"
And I stood there; startled and wondering, how did sweetheart, baby, honey pie and all those beautiful sweet nothing names he used to call me change into madam?
I am yet to know how.
And so I must deal with this alone,
I thought Onyango and Kamau had heart me but I can't help but remember Wafula now.
In fact, Wafula told me categorically to deal with my own shit in vernecular.
I will not tell you how vulgar and dirty it felt,
It was dirtier than my bushy V with pees, a fungul and a warts infection combined.
I reached out to my last resort, Musa my sweetest sweetheart, my gentle giant but he clawed at me like an agitated hungry tiger.
I am still nursing the open wounds he left me while mourning the innocence of my defiled honey pot.
Musa! Oh Musa!Musa offered me not his shoulder, instead, he added more insult to Wafula's injuries by calling me unprintable fluent coastal Swahili words that made me pity my own mother who has no idea what-so-ever what this whole business is about.
I still feel ashamed for my mother whenever I remember Musa.
The parts of both her and my anatomy that he called out are too gross to be mentioned.
Holy cow! How did I end up here? How did painful sweetness turn into this endless pain and strain that I now have to bear alone?
Here I am, all alone looking at the deadline fast approaching.
When I finally cross the finish line, when I stand on that podium to display my gold medal,
will it be Onyango's, Kamau's, Wafula's or Musa's face ingrained on the gold coin bedecking my slender beautiful neck on that podium?
I wish I knew.
The answers to that I know not and even if I did know now, the pain within is so intense that it leaves no space for any more thoughts of faces on gold coins when I finally stand on that podium as number one in this marathon I have had to run alone.
It is only hope and the unmatched strength of a woman that has made me keep on and oh, the promise of displaying my hard won gold medal on that podium.
I will stand tall on that podium and hold my medal.
I will do it even without them, they who messed up my innocence and stole wantonly from my precious honey pot.
Onyango, Kamau, Wafula, Musa and them all can go to hell for all I care.
I am a fighter, I have fought through sickness, I have fought through cravings, I have fought through back pains, I have fought through swellings, I have fought through infections, I have fought painful labour and complications, I have fought bad-mouthers, I have fought insults and myopic judgements to arrive here and now I chose not to share my moment of glory with anyone but my medal.
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
We used to chat alot, I still remember the phone calls, the endless text messages, the Facebook pokes, likes and what have you.
I still remember how many times we went out, how many times we slept in, how many times we laughed at nothing and made vague promises to have it everlasting.
That was before it happened.
When I started to vomit in the morning and at any other time when I smelt anything aromatic or oduors or even for no particular reason at all, Onyango told me, "I don't want to see you anymore."
When I asked him, "why now?"
He replied coldly, "I don't know"
That was before I even lost my smashing figure, it was before my beautiful treetop legs started swelling like inflated hot air balloons,
it was before my flat tummy metamorphed into what they now call my contorted ugly belly.
When Onyango pulled a Judas Iscariot on me I thought to myself, maybe I will find solace elsewhere so I called my most trusted buddy -Kamau.
I tried to find solace in Kamau,
told him he was responsible for my sickness for he had been a culprit too, a sure tasting stick inside my molten honey pot but all he said to me was, "madam hiyo sahau."
I tried to tell him he might be responsible but all he said was, "madam wacha madharau"
And I stood there; startled and wondering, how did sweetheart, baby, honey pie and all those beautiful sweet nothing names he used to call me change into madam?
I am yet to know how.
And so I must deal with this alone,
I thought Onyango and Kamau had heart me but I can't help but remember Wafula now.
In fact, Wafula told me categorically to deal with my own shit in vernecular.
I will not tell you how vulgar and dirty it felt,
It was dirtier than my bushy V with pees, a fungul and a warts infection combined.
I reached out to my last resort, Musa my sweetest sweetheart, my gentle giant but he clawed at me like an agitated hungry tiger.
I am still nursing the open wounds he left me while mourning the innocence of my defiled honey pot.
Musa! Oh Musa!Musa offered me not his shoulder, instead, he added more insult to Wafula's injuries by calling me unprintable fluent coastal Swahili words that made me pity my own mother who has no idea what-so-ever what this whole business is about.
I still feel ashamed for my mother whenever I remember Musa.
The parts of both her and my anatomy that he called out are too gross to be mentioned.
Holy cow! How did I end up here? How did painful sweetness turn into this endless pain and strain that I now have to bear alone?
Here I am, all alone looking at the deadline fast approaching.
When I finally cross the finish line, when I stand on that podium to display my gold medal,
will it be Onyango's, Kamau's, Wafula's or Musa's face ingrained on the gold coin bedecking my slender beautiful neck on that podium?
I wish I knew.
The answers to that I know not and even if I did know now, the pain within is so intense that it leaves no space for any more thoughts of faces on gold coins when I finally stand on that podium as number one in this marathon I have had to run alone.
It is only hope and the unmatched strength of a woman that has made me keep on and oh, the promise of displaying my hard won gold medal on that podium.
I will stand tall on that podium and hold my medal.
I will do it even without them, they who messed up my innocence and stole wantonly from my precious honey pot.
Onyango, Kamau, Wafula, Musa and them all can go to hell for all I care.
I am a fighter, I have fought through sickness, I have fought through cravings, I have fought through back pains, I have fought through swellings, I have fought through infections, I have fought painful labour and complications, I have fought bad-mouthers, I have fought insults and myopic judgements to arrive here and now I chose not to share my moment of glory with anyone but my medal.
#themusingsofamadman
#camistare2018
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