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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Sunday, 18 October 2015

Love charade [Duet performance piece by Hawa and Ibrahim]

Love charade [Duet performance piece by Hawa and Ibrahim]

How do you fight for your opponent?
One playing hardball on all your moves-
blocking out your attempts to drive in?

When do you know you've got the one
when actually they don't want to be?
They act like priorities in your life,
you prioritise them hence forth;
but they've called dibs on your back seat-
yet the co-driver seat is vacant,
and you wouldn't tell them;
you don't give free rides,
you're too in love to utter a word,
that'll get them out their gourd.

How do you tell someone,
you're beautiful; but, that's not it!
I mean, we could have cute babies,
that look like willow and Jaden;
Ayeh, we don't want them getting "F's" in reality!

It's wrong to walk into people's lives,
and not ask how they feel or where their emotions are...
It's like walking into a jungle thinking,
you're going to be lion in their wild, wild, wild jungle heart!

God must have abandoned us to play this game called love...

The worst players are those with a competitive spirit,
trying to win every game to turn out as "player-players."
walking around with their gang of hooligans unaware-
their Lebron has a soft spot for one of the cheer leaders...

Yet the cheer leading chicks also have female spirit,
despite engaging in cat fights due to love bites from hooligans,
but when it gets down to throwing that "love ball,"
they play guys pants off and Mary luswata reports the story...

A soft spot is the kryptonite in these games and fights.
if two opponents fall prey to their weaknesses, collide and draw.
it's a perfect match! But, if one is superior than the other,
it's an unfair ball game and someone's bound to get hurt!

Love and reality are not synonymous.
love wants us to sing along in harmony,
reality wants us to quit the auto tune BS,
and come to terms with the fact that most of us can't sing!

Omukwano gwafe gwa mageero,
that's why we're often on similar paths
that have got us writing poetry day by day...

Have you ever had your armoured heart,
struck so damn hard by a charms' dagger?
Even before the tip of it is pointed at you?
But each heart chamber gets enchanted!

Omutiima ne gufuna amaalo...

You get all mushy, close to tears and in fear
you're losing yourself passionately,
to a being made so wonderfully,
but it's too late, you've been squeezed and sieved;

bakukamude nga aktuunda!

Sentenced to house arrest in your heart,
on your thoughts like a bullet proof vest-
as if protecting them from anything else.

Then you wonder who sentenced them to your heart and thoughts?
Yet you've been criminal minded going against the laws of love...

Then you start asking them to take you,
you make promises that it will count.
you ask them to let you in,
allow them to loosen you up,
to tour the contours of your physique
to accept your plea and promise not to flee.
to be your shadow in the dark especially-
on these lonely streets of Kla that have no street lights...

Then you ask them to say something for you've said it all...
you spoke in song yet can't sing at all,
No love #Conjolted
Going to join the players league #NO love allowed. 
and they are looking at you struck and in awe-
they don't love you and its not their fault!

It's just not you they want to play with,
so you've lost the game and it hurts, it hurts.

So it seems we are attracted to things that hurt us,
Ironically, it's not what we're looking for...

You want something they can't give you,
they want something you can't give them,
you both want what you can't have...

That's why her and I are seated on the bench
waiting to join the play off season,
so we can become "player-players."

Special shout out to Hawa Kimbugwe 

Is this what you want?

(A desolate Home)
Is this what we want?

Running from the only place you call home,
fleeing scorching heat and consuming penury,
having reaped apart the ozone and made it war-torn,

Is this what we want?

Sharing diarrhoea in blue GM Tumpeco mugs,  
a wild fire of disease as if we're not already morbid-
dwelling in inhumane greed distorting economic activity,

Is this what we want?

Living on the planet like match sticks in a matchbox,
God said fill the globe so we've unleashed libido-
to multiply in number and then divide in unity,

Is this what we want?

Sleeping nude for it is hot as balls,
their resting temperature is 92-97°. 
mosquitoes will rejoice in our nudist colony,

Is this what you want?

Sleepless nights amid dreadful buzzing sounds. 
cultivated swamps spewing swarms of mosquitoes,
malaria like a holocaust taking worthy lives.

Is this what we want?

Tree watching in your house made of fine veneer, 
rock climbing in five star malls, fishing in aquariums,
bird watching only in the history of Nat Geo wild,

Is this what we want?

Seeing roses and flowers in our phone memories,
or in names of daughters Rosa and tulip,
as mother earth ails and woes over her deceased, 

Is this what we want?

Cars morphing into boats sailing afloat flash floods,
cows and goats swimming like dogs dropped in ponds,
you've seen this out in new Orleans and down in Bwaise,

Is this what we want?

Small things leading to big things-
one cut tree; draught; conflict; war
horrid draught led to heinous war in Dafur,

Is this what we want?

Fixing cracked up and buckled driveways,
run down homes and broke bridges,
why greater need yet pot holes are unfilled,

Is this what we want?

Failing to plant seed over densely infested land, 
buried in polythene bags, bottles, airtime cards,  
Veblen goods we purchase to make us feel conceited, 

Is this what we want?

Envisage a raging sun after surviving ice age. 
yet when things burn- remnants are ashes.
I'd rather be preserved than cause the irreversible?

Is this what we want?

Four wives, one season...

I understand females in the world are more,
But honestly, I don't want to be a male whore.

Don't get me wrong, I want options like Heffner
and a play house where I can play kwepena
without actually having to hit on her-
yet still stand the chance to get with her...

Or them... :)

And then there's a lot of things that tickle my fancy
like chicks with no weaves or baggage that's heavy to heave,
ladies with no hair that look and rap like Eve
and when it comes to soccer they can play all evening.

I want a woman that can cook, clean and protect me like a mukiga,
But I have to say this carefully away from Fahima,
the feminist general that'll take me for a crazy individual
asking for too much yet I meet her half way as I hunch back.

Most times, I also want a woman that can do what I do,
so as we spoon in the room we can share the same food,
literally rhyming in poetry as we gradually get in the mood
where the moon will be our only witness as she moans n croons


God! I wish- I could- have them- all...
But its impossible! Its like asking Steve hawking-
to try and not look like he is gawking
or maybe just to try a little bit of dancing...

And I'm not poking at his disability,
the truth hurts and puts most of us out of ease.
It's like when I'm flirting I'm like geez nigga please,
you can't last five minutes and there you are trying to tease.

But that's the truth to me cause I barely get enough training,
so four wives in four seasons is a deal breaker,
Ayeh four wives at the same damn time is a jail encounter!
and if you ask me, I can attest and tell you about my father.

Although, that's not my story to tell,
I'm just out here trying to live my "pre-ordained tale"
in which I hope is a fairy tale of some kind of forever-
yet forever makes me wonder if she'll /they'll love me any better...

I want to be.[performance piece]

I want to be SLIM, For to be slim; 
supremacy lies in me! 
The hope is you see- 
I'm already from Alkebulan;
the mother land and not Babylon; 
therefore, I'm proud heir to a throne 
of supremacy having been born- 
in this mighty kingdom where poetry, 
is gold marrow rocking in our bones.


I know white guys that know guys like me, 
that think black guys are stupid!
Crazy I think black guys like me know that 
their are white guys that are stupid!
Which puts us in between and makes us twins 
because we shares genes which therefore means- 
we're all stupid! Yet the truth is we are all ingenious... 


I want to be a competitor because 
competition makes me better 
but i want to be unlike the shilling 
that's grinding and milling negative feelings 
among people that could probably kill for a shilling 
for they are living on the ceiling and now the sky rocketing billing! 


Albeit, I want to compete with those that aren't elite-
like Lucifer the true deter who strums my heart like a guitar,
yet if I skinned him and wore him like fur, 
I'd boss to success in this duniya.


I want to be one not two not three,
so if I made it to four I'd moon walk back to one.
But everyone wants to be the one so in turn,
I will be nil nothing until my empty soul-
receives its blessing 'til I am one with God.


I don't want to be a tourist of tragedy,,
caught in an abyss of jealousy, 
yet I bought tickets to addis,
for I was running from habits,
where people quick as mating rabbits,
hamper their only hobbies hating-
on secret opponents that barely know of it!

I want to be happy like a hippie-
till you're like really? 
why is this guy acting like a hilly billy,
doing silly nilly willy yet really,
what is the deally yet ideally-
this could get me a milli to take to my family, hihi

I want to a funny guy so I can spread infectious joy
but I'm no Chris rock that lucky mother; lover.
Oh well, at least I strive to be an inspiring, 
So hear me out mother, father, sister, lover, 
brother from another mother, 
In life we often desire to barter trade for better-

Do you often wonder why whatever we have, 
puts us under the weather yet if we seek shelter, 
under those that overshadow us we can never be better!

For example 

I'd also like to have Selena for dinner,
but she often catches a whiff of my reefer-
then as I quiver from the fuel used as preserve 
things start to differ for she hates smokers, 
and their bad breath that lingers...

So I am loser and I excuse her,
for instead of helping me get better, 
she leaves me wither!

I want to be so many things, 
but I can only be me! 
A newer updater version of the old me. 


I am

The prototype

The names Chuck, Chuck Yagwe.
I'm relatively an intellectual
With a hint of love that's retro
'Cause they say the old didn't let go.

I'm programmed to entertain,
coded to cook and clean,
buy flowers on my way home,
and take care of kids when I'm home alone.

I participate in conversation,
listen diligently rather than hear.
never respond vehemently,
and handle my lady with fragile care.

When asked I plate my lady's hair
in twists, swaz, tuts and do's of relative gist.
For no reason I buy gifts for my lady
unlike the average man that gifts after being shady...

I'm hardworking, smart, and ambitious
Ayeh I also make time for chemistry's art.
I'm funny like the comedian Kevin hurt
but tall enough for a romantic tip toe kiss.

I'm manly like Hugh Jackman
yet cute like Channing Tatum,
I'm a close to a hopeless romantic
yet have aspects of commando dramatics.

Sometimes I sing like ed sheeran
when I'm out on candle light dates.
and when I'm with my lady and her mates,
I turn my swag on and rap like Jay z.

I don't piss on the toilet sit,
that wasn't programmed to fit,
I sit to piss instead of play the game of miss
so at night my miss takes a comfort piss.

I make kamsutra love to my woman,
she crafted me with the right "torpedo",
not too big and with just the right wiggle,
so when I shoot the results are explosive!

I don't watch football, I watch cook shows,
but I'm sporty when its time to act naughty.
I don't have female friends, only a "mother"
But I twitch and malfunction when I see a "shawty"

I open doors, barely have flaws
But recently I started to drop jaws
when a voluptuous woman draws me...
I fear I might be male-functioning