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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Time heals all wounds

Time heals all wounds

When I see shaded leaves,
lounging among strands of grass,
as autumn unhooks under its sleeves,
when harsh winter has come to pass,

and grass dappled by lurid sun,
when summer hastes into the tropics, 
where child's’play in the spells is no more fun-
since the rains are no more; a trending topic.

Then of time I do question wounds...
For as winter grows bitter spreading its tendency
branches full of plumage fall to the ground,
and the trees face harsh dormancy, 

and that which bares the harsh test of time,
is healed and placed back in to prime. 

Sweet life

Sweet life

Oh sweet life, 
I sought enlightenment so I looked close, 
and I captured all your beauty and glory...  
A slow shutter speed life is what many chose-
so many avow you as somewhat gory.

With visions blurred there's little one can see.
It's easy to miss oaks and owls that embellish nature,
the beautiful creatures that live beneath deep sea,
and rays of light that peek through cloudy aperture.

It's a collage; a story of hope, wonder, and awe,
and if you take a closer look, it reveals majesty. 
It's the kind of craftsmanship you don't pay for,
and such passion can only be credited to the Almighty

Verily we have eyes but do not see.   
It's no wonder we can't fathom who said it should Be!


Picture a tizzy moment,
filled with ever green laughs,
sky blue peace,
cascading tears of joy;
a beautiful scenery,
cut out of a glossy magazine;
a replica of heaven.

Picture a rush of blood,
through hollow veins,
Goose pimples creeping-
throughout your body,
with your heart pacing-
at horse speed,
reaching its climax,
and the moist feeling-
of luscious lips,
enslaving yours....

Picture a deemed situation,
feathered up with-
straight lurid lights,
let your mind zone out
in the venomous cold,
that obliterates joy
 and paints you red in fear...

Picture a situation
of inept capability,
words preying the air,
from blurting lips.
harmful actions,
teasing words,
unfair mind games.

Life unfolds pictures of every kind,
we choose which ones to be still in.

An aroma of memories

An aroma of memories.

The gusty scent that invoked me,
reminded me of your cooking in the kitchen.
Your bright smile that evoked me,
took me places and left me smitten.

Over the way your hands used to float over my body,
It made me feel like I was somebody.
But now, here I am; a soulless body,
left in my ungrateful ways; a nobody.

The light that once guided my way,
I switched off and now, here I am walking in the dark,
triggered with memories by aroma, feeling dismay.
Invoked and evoked yet I once larked in park.

How do you get over your own cause,
when the memories that play back do not pause?

16 bars of Togetherness

I'm hanging by the rail all cool I'm a droplet,
my girl on my left got twins call them couplets,
see when we burn, we burn like matchsticks,
I wine in her diner and I never use chopsticks,
I have a disorder, I need to be de-wormed,
but her i'm Hugh hefner, I can't be dethroned
I could leave her all alone but she's the magic for my tragedy,
So were stuck together, like logic to humanity.
I'm her damn vanity, I heal her like a remedy,
I'm tending to insanity, I need her like my sanity.
and charity, is her to me, she's my little deity,
she prays for me and sucks for free,
she good for me like lemon to tea.
Every time I'm feisty, she reduces my intensity,
she got propensity to handle my huge density;
an HD lover, gives me loving with some clarity.

Perfect distraction.

Perfect distraction.

You're a heaven sent I.M,
sent through my Gmail,
when I catch the IMS

like a mantra in my head,
playing over and over on repeat,
clearing my thoughts, I can't press delete.

You're like a snorkel mask,
without you I'd be drowning,
instead of death I delve in your depth,

I gaze at you every stolen moment,
you embedded my eyes with magnets,
It's no wonder I can't ogle at all else,

As you flatter by like butterfly,
beautifying my wild flower mind,
taking away pollen of stress,

You're a shooting star,
you whisk me away in the moment,
and make me cheat on the full moon.

I can't walk straight by you,
I am always drunk in love,
so I stagger in your presence.

You're like a sweet aroma,
unwrapping my hunger pangs.
diverting my chain of thought,

like a painting on the wall,
marvellously sketched,
I could stare at you till you fall.

For you're like a good read,
the world comes to a stop,
as I revel in all that you reveal.

I barely dream in my sleep,
If so, you're right by me,
counting bleating sheep.

You're that innocent child,
crying out loud, and waking me-
from sleep to check why you weep.

You're that person about to-

Heart to heart

Heart to heart.

Truth is my heart is not as beautiful as a peony.
My troubles loom from the dark like an enemy,
deep down from the depth of my dungeon heart
which I often try to seal closed with a manhole.
The thing is my faults haunt me so do my sorrows
but I spring from my falls and rise like a sparrow,
gold-ish in hue soaring high but ready to fall-
once again and crack to fragments like glass.
I'm fragile so handle me with care so I can share-
what I have on my table as I strive to be amicable,
for if you looked inside my heart you could go blind.
you would also find that this gold is but mere clay;
for it belongs to a mere human, so treat me humane.

I write....

I write so you can read me,
I rhyme so you can hear-
the inner child within me;
singing out loud and clear
with a soul full of fire,
scribbling images on pages
so you can know my desires.

I write so you can read me,
I rhyme so you can hear-
the inner child within me,
going on and on with my gaga,
but the truth is I do have a bubu.
It aches right hear in my heart
and I'm yearning for attention.

I write so you can read me,
I rhyme so you can hear-
the inner child within me;
asking why you don't understand,
pleading for you to take me to safe land.
but all your read is gaga, gugu;
native language for young guru's.

I write so you can read me,
I rhyme so you can hear-
the inner child within me;
pupping all on this paper,
to paint a vivid picture
that will break you into laughter,
yet it's a distress call for disaster.

I write so you can read me,
I rhyme so you can hear-
the inner child within me.
speechless and helpless,
yet restless and hopeless.
desperate for your help,
to restore our innocence

I write so you can read me,
I rhyme so you can hear-
the inner child within me;
nana, dudu, gugu, n gaga
as I'm talking to papa
so if you comprehend,
I shall have no bubu.

Halle berry or hallelujah

Halle berry or hallelujah

Halley berry, Halle berry
Oh you're luscious as berry, 
I'd like to get a taste so I can quit being hungry.
And for what it's worth, 
I'd like to figure you out like math.
So we could equate through disputes, 
Have some conversation switch it up like mixed fruits.
And while we're at it, and I found the x.
How I wonder Mrs berry what would happen next;
Maybe some praising, as you're screaming, "HALLELUJAH!"
While we're going at it, and I'm giving it  to yah. 
But for this, unholy matrimony,
I might never thank God, 
For quenching my thirst in this feast,
Where I play as the beast of deceit,
who then marries you off into sin, 
Then leaves off for the next while your in the bin. 
That's a scene where I win even without a ring. 

Halle berry, Halle berry,
Oh you're so Luscious as berry.
I'd like to have taste so I can quit being hungry, 
I might play out all these scenes but I'd rather; 
Drown in the fresh blood of Allah.
Then figure you out like math, 
Before we set off onto this lawful path,
Where I derive the 'X' that turns out to be 'O';
A cute little diamond ring that puts you in awe.
Then we would have no disputes as we'd have no flaws,
And while we're at it, we could X-O.
How wonder Mrs Berry what would happen next?
Maybe some holy praising as your screaming; "HALLELUJAH,"
And I won't forget the holy water,
for I may want a baby in the new year.
And for this holy matrimony,
I shall thank God, 
For quenching my thirst in this feast,
Where I play as a man in pursuit,
Who marries you off into a lawful suite, 
In a case where I sink in the poison of your love,
and that of the almighty with no need for bail.

My second home.

My second home.
I remember it always felt like a home and not a house,
It was the last feeling I had close to  that till we moved into my mother's home; the melting pot of homes. Besides that,
We moved into my second home right after we shifted from the flat living apartments in Makerere. It must have been an offer to my father since he used to lecture in Makerere University, which was basically right opposite our flats.
I grew up from the flats so my memories there are quite many.
However my second home, a beautiful place. We were neighbours with the then deputy governor of our central Bank of Uganda, basically living in the upper lavish side of our city centre.
My dad was working two jobs then so he was never home, he would come back late evening and I would be the one racing to take off his shoes and coat after a long day's work.
It was always something I felt like I owed him after he gave us all we wanted. It's least I could do.
Our family has always been big. Big, but just right. I had a relationship with everyone in the house. I learnt how to shoot my first hoops from there with my two sisters Tasha and Nana, That's where my swoosh came from, and the dribble from Lukman. He loved And 1, so he had picked up this quick dribble which I replicated and made my own. Although, right now, I'm pretty rusty so I can't testify to all that.

My sister and I always had this strange habit of fighting, I think it was all the wrestling our father got us to watch with him. It wasn't much of father-child thing, but everyone, thanks to paps, is accustomed to watching some wrestling without any hesitation.
The stone cold stunner was my favourite move till the walls of Jericho caught my attention, and my sister was always the test dummy for my runs. It's important to know that she always kicked my ass when we got down to reall business. I wonder why we always did that but it was fun.
Shouting out loud, "do you smeeeeeelllllllll, what the rock is cooking?" then bamn! I'd smack her down onto the sofa. After that it was hammer time for my ass, we would push the table aside and just got at it like mad.
Sweet memories.
The mornings were always beautiful, we would have so much breakfast on the table, with so much variety from cereal to sausages, splash and soda, all those really unhealthy foods, but diving into it was no problem.

School days, oh school days faking an illness was not easy but it happened all the time. Now I know why I hate going to school, it all started from the past, school is just such a drag. My little sister Amina and I always had the silliest of excuses not to go. The rest were always in boarding school so we had the house all to ourselves. So we had like a sequence. Today your sick, tomorrow I'm sick.. It was hilarious when the parents stepped out, the sick puppies turned healthy as a clowns, watching cartoon network, playing video games and for my sister, ripping her many dolls apart was a tradition. I wonder why they bought them?

The holidays, gosh the holidays, after waiting years and years for everyone to get back. It was time for them to come back home. We would go pick them up from school looking all unhealthy and extremely happy that it was time to go home, I hated boarding school. Although I eventually end up there for my secondary; Bad, bad memories.
When everyone was home, we would have birthday celebrations going on, cutting cake, inviting friends over, playing table tennis, dancing games, hide and seek. We were spoilt kids, I guess spoilt at the right time of life. Remembering all this just makes me feel blessed. Surely you never know what you had till it's all gone. I'm just glad I'v realised before it's all gone.
The video games, oh the video game sessions. We had a thousands of games, I basically grew up and learnt so many things from them. The funniest memory then was placing a bet for Solcalibur with my brother Lukman, whoever won the match was supposed to pay the other. The fraud star never, ever paid me. I can't remember how much, but I know he has my cash, lol.

Then the ease dropping on phone calls. My sister Maya was the biggest culprit, but all my sisters and their so called  boyfriend's made us pick up this habit cause their phone calls were always so long, and the person using the phone would always go downstairs to the office for privacy. So the other phone connected to the same line was always calling out for someone to find out what was taking this person so long. But they always caught us as we snickered in the background and they would shout our names, "AMINA, IBRA! Get off the line."
Then the phone bill always had paps sending us to the dog cage as he complained about it; although, we would instantly snitch just to get out of trouble.
Then the point I also joined the phone crew. It was about the time of my primary six to seven. One of my older sisters was going to school with some rich kids so we used to go visit and play games and all that. There was this one girl, I can't say her name but she stayed there and we always stayed on phone for hours talking endlessly, about what, I do not even remember. But she got me hooked to the phone like one of those Ugandan business men, It was crazy.

My first fracture. This happened in this home, I remember this day pretty well.
Our home was seated on the slope of Kololo hill so the whole landscape had a kind of slant going on. The compound was big and had stairs leading to the swings and the lower side of the front yard. It was a really beautiful compound.
This one day, we were going to the swings or just sliding on the rails of the stairs that led us there. My sister, Amina, was on the left side and I slid down on the right. While we were at it trying to see who would reach the bottom first, I got my right hand stuck in between the holes of the railing, I struggled to take it out but it all happened so quick, then I fell over to the right side on my shoulder then, snap! My hand just broke. Everything after that is really blurry but Amina claimed I cried the whole evening till they took me to the hospital. Sleeping after that was tough, the cast was really itchy and hot. The cool part was all the signatures I got on it, at least.
The memories are so many, yet so blurry.

The swing. It was like a meeting place. We would all gather there to talk and do some dangerous jumps off the swing, the thrill was beautiful, explains my love for heights and sky diving.
Home was always beautiful, no matter what the time, no matter what happened, and the last highlight of the house was my grand uncle going mad, it was sad but also funny at a particular point. First off, may his soul rest in eternal peace. He was a great guy, always made us laugh, always had that old age frustration going on. Which to me is really amusing.
So this one day, we had just woken up I believe, the house help was doing her thing in the kitchen preparing breakfast then his wires must have tripped. He started saying uncoordinated things, barking at her, throwing staff all over then the epic moment came into play when he picked up a knife and attempted to swing it towards everyone that tied to reach out to him. It was such a crazy episode, all I remember at the end of it all was him being tied down by the security guard and bringing the.scene to an end

The fun all died away when the owners of the house had come back and wanted their old place back, so we packed our bags and started shifting all over Kampala. We house hopped for a while after that and somehow, we still are.
But my second house, was a home. No doubt about that.

love, love, love

You nauseate me and make me sick.
I have tried to run, I can't hide.
I have tried to learn, but I've failed.

You have broken a part of me,
that I once thought was boneless.
I have healed the fractures,
and somehow I want more.

You often drown me,
but I want to swim within,
the depth of you waters.
Go scuba diving and enjoy the thrill.

I can not do without you,
you're the plan and the way,
and my way is the path less trodden-
to a place where we both belong.
You have sent me off to many people,
in an effort just to get at you,
but you seem to be leading me on;
It makes me want you even more...

It's crazy, people, duck, hide a run from you.
I wish they knew you're not out there to seek them..
I guess you never know what you need till you've felt it,
held it in your hands and known what it's all about...

Love, love, love,
You stupid bastard!

What's this game your playing?
I'll smoke you out if I have to,
when I get you, I'll pay your ransom-
So I can keep you all to myself.

Inclined to loving you

My love for you is crude and can't be refined,
It's one of the purest forms you'll ever find,
but you always think I'm out here lying to you,
as I'm- lying there with you as if  you hired me.
You get all defensive and say it's not like that,
but it's a fact my past scares you, I understand.
the first cut's always deep there on it gets deeper,
you learn to love even more if you are a seeker,
and I've been walking so long my heart is sore,
don't let me walk anymore, I'm flawed and tired,
I need a home to keep this heart 'cause it hurts,
it has loved so much it needs to heal to work,
so it can teach you all the stories it's learned of this art.

Where's the happy in Independence?

(Independent independence.)

I had dreams of of setting you free,
free from the grasp of my fist-
so you could fly past the water,
like a pelican out to grab fish;
opportunity, but I am selfish,
you could say I do not monger-
So I decided to stay a longer.
To lash you with my whips-
hoping to make you stronger.
But I was freeing myself in turn,
hoping along the way I'd foster you
into what you cried for; independence...

They say I tamed you the wrong way,
but what was your way without direction?
A map which you lacked, or so I thought.
but I am selfish; I thought for you,
I whipped you tirelessly like Jesus,
only to push you to the right direction.
Something they say broke you;
although, freed me and aroused-
your yearning for independence.
you sacrificed your pride and now,
like raging bulls you want it back.

You had dreams of being let go,
so you sought independence,
freedom from my infidel reign,
yet I tried to instil in you religion,
to free you from pain and disdain
So you'd restore shalom in your homes,
pride in your lives but you're cowards.
You fear the whip like a herd,
you scream but never to be heard,
for I have locked you up in fear,
I depend on you for my independence...

You say I tamed you the wrong way,
Did I not whip into the right direction?
Aren't you bowing to my every whim?
You fear the whip like a herd,
You scream, but never to be heard.
for I have locked you up in fear,
You have succumb to the lashes,
and crawl in puddles of blood
I am selfish, I gain from refraining you
You're a bunch black cowards,
all you gain from pain is shame.
yet how you still strive through it
to achieve your independence,
is something I must commend.

For you're making your way out of the pit,
hauling me out of your seat.
You are lighting your candles of hope
and standing firm to be independent,
Or so you think- a candle wanes and waxes out.
The truth is I set you off track,
as I had sent you far enough off course.
Now you are wings, I am head-
on this journey of independence,
your wings carry me to freedom.
while you bare the weight of burden,
I have for a long time bestowed onto you-
you are free, broken and independent.
Where is the happy in Independence??

Thursday, 10 October 2013

Tuxedo series; A love charade in poetic grandeur

La tuxedo banquet

“La tuxedo banquet” The invite read
An annual event for the ‘A’ class grade.
We found love in a hopeless place #Conjolted
We found love in a hopeless place

I wiped the mirror of its fog
and behold; a picture perfect dog.
My tux barked classic,
such fine knitting I looked plastic.

I pulled out the sleeves of my shirt,
dusted off my sill shawl lapel,
patted down my trimmed haircut,
and slipped onto my feet, Hermes belle.

I drove down in Porsche,
pulled up close enough for the valet,
then walked up the stairs with exquisite cachet.
Where I met a lady who struck me like touché!

Who was sadly a peonage that played as an usher,
so I handed here my trench coat and decided not to bother.
Sliding it off unveiling my smother,
then I was led to my sit by another.

Besides me was a gorgeous woman in red,
who by the hands of riches must have been breed.

To be continued... Or rather typed out.

The meadow.

Trees lounge within fair gaps-
stout in height and uniquely canopied.
The clouds; a rainbow glow,
peek through the pores of the canopies.

Beneath the trees in the stolen light,
A man docks behind a trunk-
raising gusts of clouds from his smoke pipe,
most of it sinking into his husk.

An eclipse forms up,
turning day to night,
shadows into pitch black silhouette,
and a sniper afar turns on night vision.

Who miles away behind-
a trunk left sleeping by his enemy.
He takes deep breaths to focus,
in strive to take down the tree slayer.

POW! He fires his first cheap shot.
missing by inch, awakening his opponent-
who drops his pipe in shock and flees.
POW! A debatable second shot.

The tirade of massacre commences,
incorporated with hide and seek-
a game for the meek,
or so we might think.

The sniper fires away; POW!
strikes the axe pellet,
tipping the slayer off his flow.
then behind another trunk he ducks low.

He locates his opponent,
ponders his next movement,
then darts towards the flowing stream down south
as the sniper struggle to reload his gun.

Revamped and reloaded,
the sniper sits his gun onto the trunk and pauses,
Patiently, like he were about to take out a deer.
But in his sight, a clear view of nearing fear,

his enemy is no where to be seen.

Off the stream and onto land,
the slayer wastes no time and sneaks forth.
He bates his enemy with calm talk,
drawing him closer for a gory shot .

“Who sent you?”
POW! The sniper fires a flimsy shot in distress,
then struggles to stand and wave his gun in search.
“I come as an ‘earth keeper’.”

“What for, trees or human corpses?”
The sniper fires once again; POW! POW!
then walks into the arms of death,
as he nears the fatal tree trunk.

Where in a split second,
the slayer’s axe swings though his neck
and into the tree were it dug deep-
atop which, the snipers head lay.