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

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

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

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