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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Friday, 25 November 2016

Conscious minds

The power of a conscious mind,
can carry you to the pearly gates,
god #Conjolted
We have the power to make a change 
and back to earth just in time,
to save people before Jesus comes back.

Ignorance is the mother of serenity,
yet it can also get you locked in chains,
walking to your grave in a single file-
singing kumbaya because it sounds pop,
and everyone is singing along so what the hell?

Clarity is yolk out a cracked shell,
hatched open by the knowledgeable,
having wandered into the unknown.
It lets you stand alone at the top of a mountain,
and then forces you to soar limitless skies.

Modesty is knowing the difference-
between clarity and ignorance.
Knowing the two makes you conscious,
so carry forth with your knowledge,
and save the world, cut Jesus some slack!

Sunday, 20 November 2016

Under the umbrella

I'm under the umbrella tree
hoping the marabou stock won't flee
off the ground and hop onto my hope,
shake the soaked leaves atop,
and drench me in drips and drops-
that delve in my emotions shop
and leave me milquetoast.

Kaloli diri tuuma,
kaloli diri tuuma.
Diri tuuma meh da wuuba,
dah wubah meh da buluka...

'Cause the thunder is alarming,
as if warning of tragedies coming,
yet I have no ark to embark-
to steer me past lightning,
that "oh my days" is frightening!

Its has started raining,
my hair has droplets,
the leaves are glossy,
bark is bathed,
and I anew; hopeful...

Life has been hopeless
or precisely deciduous
and like leaves on trees,
people always leave
after storming a heart.

Ayeh as we grow and mature,
we realise that moments-
lived and left are courses;
points for one to learn
to turn over a new leaf...

Often under umbrellas,
we hide and confide our-
buffaloberry emotions;
sweet delicacies feasted on
by tragic memories,

that prey and scavenge,
on our decaying matters-
like marabou stock,
watching out on tree tops
for what's left of once fresh delicacy.

I'm under the umbrella tree,
hoping the marabou stock won't flee
off the ground and hop onto my hope,
shake the soaked leaves on top
and drench me in drips and drops
that delve in my emotions shop
and leave me milquetoast.

Kaloli diri tuuma,
kaloli diri tuuma.
diri tuuma meh  da wubah
dah wubah meh  da buluka...

It is now drizzling,
and like a sinking boat-
my shoes are soaked.
Roads now have gullies,
and drizzles drip and drop...

Love, life, family,
friends, and businesses-
are all like rain...
they come and go,
and Leave us soaked like leaves.

Soaked in emotions
and when shook by scavengers
our memories are re-lived,
sometimes in tears,
and drip drop they flop
like leaves shook
by marabou stock
after rains stop..

The world wide web

Lately it seems like a norm,
for us to be reaching out to the world,
through tweets, posts, statuses, and images.
We upload our emotions to be downloaded,
then hope for a second that they'll be heeded,
ayeh the world is hearing not listening,
it's looking but it's not exactly seeing,
and we bank our big hearts and minds,
on an illusive deal that gives us momentary thrills.

Most of us seem to be finding comfort
in the millions of quotes and information-
some of which are misleading.
Most no longer believe in self,
they replicate the multitudes of expressions,
that speak to them in the moment,
so what has been viewed and not sieved
prescribes a way for us to live,
that to some individuals is "perfect life."
So most enact these illusive realities,
yet the circumstances in amorphous reality
become complicated to execute and manage.

Paranoia has reached the top of its peak,
we're sober yet addicted looped into the 'www.'
This is because we are now used to voyeurs-
on our social networks besides those people-
that took it upon themselves to keep tags on us all.
So now everyone is feeling naked and afraid.
Afraid to trust, afraid to be honest, afraid to be loyal.

The subjects are now timid and brainwashed,
the soldiers lost loyalty for they know the truth
the regining supreme royalty as always is greedy,
the clerics lost faith and have joined miscreants,
it's now an eye for an eye, for an eye, for an eye,
until we all one day turn blind.

War witches

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

A light bulb.

A light bulb.

There is a difference between,
love nurtured by money,
and love nurtured by survival.
It's simple and well known...
Lovers of the latter
cannot survive without money,
Whereas
Lovers of the former
can survive without money. 

Tuesday, 1 November 2016

Self Crucifixion

Self Crucifixion    

We often crucify ourselves and sacrifice our wisdom and self-esteem,
then get terrified to express our true selves and survive.
Why kill yourself yet you can believe in yourself and thrive?

Saturday, 29 October 2016

A glitch in the system

I toss and turn when I'm half dead-fast asleep,
It must be that my soul needs to escape my body
where I'm limited and fear reality will soon intercept-
my subconscious and ruin serendipity in dream state.
For when I wake, my mind won't let me rest in peace,
It dispatches messages to my subconscious making me unconscious,
as I try to fathom contradictions that destitute me of hope,
I've been tuned to distinguish right from wrong-
often some rights seem wrong and some wrongs seem right.
The glitch in the system bothers me I'm appalled.
I once was innocent back when I was ignorant,
until my ignorance boomeranged against me,
then knowing things became my reason to live.
I now know too much, a lot of which I wish,
I could unlearn, re-spool and store away.
yet too much isn't enough, I need more than more,
I yearn for infinity I'm insatiable, I'm a back hole,
I'm limitless yet seem to retain less and less,
more reason for me to stress, I'm a time bomb ,
and once I explode I'll limbo into oblivion.


Thursday, 27 October 2016

Who am I?

I heard some guys by the street some day-
gossiping with nothing good to say,
"Bwe bwo obwana obuta sasula rent,
(those are the kids that don't pay rent)
Obuzukuka nebusanga emere ku meeza"
that wake up to food on their table)
I knew they were talking about me,
I brushed it off and hoofed back home,
Of course to where I pay no rent and clown
Ayeh do they know me or have a notion of me?
Drawn from clothes and scents wafting off me;
perfumes and clothes bought by my family.
I'm thankful Lord, you gives me the best and-
you have continued to give me in-debt
but only you know the story chest deep.

They don't know that I too weep,
they don't know I too am hunger whipped-
on these streets where it's hard to achieve a feat.
I don't blame them, not one bit!
For they can't see beyond this skin,
to discover the misery of an "educated fool"
even if they could, they have no time for me,
they don't know I walk streets and get sore feet,
sometimes it's cause luxury got the best of me
other times it's cause I don't have a coin that fits
in these pockets that due to my background are "deep.".

Sometimes I curse and call them hopeless sheep,
for pointing fingers to those equally weak.
Often I refrain 'cause it's better than to maim.

So when I have no food or transport to get home
I'm a man my ego wore me and it fits,I didn't ask for it;
besides, paps would say, "get off your feet"
and if my mother heard the stories she'd feel pity
send me more than I need and my ego would shrink.
I don't have it figured out like they think,
all I want is a big brother if dad's too busy,
to guide, teach, and lay a foundation for me
and won't be taken away like my sisters
by men that  please me 'cause it's order of the day,
"nati omuko wasiima, Enzigi zomugulu zegula omwami naalya."
(If the brother in law is pleased, Heaven's gates are open for the husband to feast)
Ayeh I too like many need some long overdue advice,
rather than preach and speak to a house of chairs,
that does not fathom the emotions I fight,

All I want is genuine minute to be asked,
"how are you? No seriously, how are you?"
I swear I'll tell you how I sometimes feel queer,
but I've been celibate too long the devil has started
whispering shit in my itsy bitsy ears,
he wants me to have my buns sans yogurt
yet I like to dunk my flavoured donuts,
that I used to prefer small for some reason
but now I'm grown, A true soul is all I need.
I was taught that it's not about the size
of the sausage nor the mouth it feeds,
It is just that some people are insatiable,
and like to have more than they can eat!
All I want, like everybody else is to be understood
for one to take time to look under the hood;
I know that most of us aren't mechanics
but it doesn't take much to see that an engine
is leaking and the system is down and out run.

All I want is for one to look at the nothingness
the nothingness that is me, beyond the home i'm tenant in,
my beautiful family, the clothes, the visiting money
the material things don't make me who I am,
the only thing in there that I call my own is my family,
beyond this, I am in a lay man's language; lucky



Thursday, 20 October 2016

Borderline

        On an afternoon break after a harsh morning, I let out a long sigh and with caution fell back into a hammock at la patisserie.. I had an Ice cream con in my hand so I made sure to consumed its divinity rather than spill it over me and add salt to injury. I sunk in, stretched then crossed my short legs and shut my eyes for a moment. My trip to wanderlust commenced.
        The gentle air tickled my hairy fabric, it carried a "je ne se quoi," that bewildered my emotions, From exasperation I felt myself fall into nonchalance. With it, the air carried wafts of floating croissants and assortments of pastrie, It was heaven. Til out of the raving engines of multiple street cars driven by enraged sun scorched crazies came this loose wired woman. She tooted her own horn from the time she turned into the drive way on her noisy Royal Enfield. I cursed her out for disturbing peace until she took off her helmet.Her air was short, mohawk like and delicately spiky.  I got up and turned to sit on the edges in between the hammock and I watched her.
        Being a man(apparently), my mind was blank at this point, she had broken all norms of the stereotyped woman. She was the one!  The sun beamed over her, her skin glimmered like polished oak yet was possibly soft as refined peanut butter. Over gravel in the parking lot she walked with ease and made her way onto the paved pathway. It lead to the patio where I was. Her gait was gentle yet had a determined swing to it. It wasn't sexy; it was artistic- the kind that portrayed a form of self expression untampered. Across me was a set of posh patio furniture made of tainted white metal. She took a sit, threw her left leg over her right going for an European leg cross. Below her knee was a tiny yin and yang tattoo akin to the one on the back of her palm. She pulled out her phone and a novel from her mustard yellow sling bag. She laid them on the table besides an ash tray, the phone atop the latter. "Excuse me," She said to the passing waiter. Her voice denoted a harsh timbre yet when she went on to speak she seemed to mean well. I watched her for a moment, she was strange and I couldn't take it any longer. I got up and walked to her. "Is there any chance I could Join you?" I asked...

To be continued...

Balance

Kola pulled his chair towards the table so he'd place his glass and bowl of groundnuts conveniently rather than hold them in his hands.He had been placing the glass on his thigh. A thing that disturbed Magu because he idled his "fine" tea sets like a glassblower and his glassware and dreaded the day they'd fall to the ground and break.

"Let me tell you something, Kola," Magu pushed back in his office chair and arched back his right hand to hold the edge of the handle. "I am nothing! TO-TA-LLY nothing!"
"Oh wow, nothing," Kola remarked as he looked around Magu's enormous office

"I'm just working hard to get where I want to be," Magu carried on. "BUT! people see me with these things and think I have it all figured out yet I don't!" He rocked back in his chair. "I mean... I might not have the same problems you may have... Those problems of kikumi-kikumi (A local metaphor used to belittle an issue) But I have problems. It's just that mine are now for millions. Don't get me wrong, and I apologise if any of this comes off rude. But, I am being honest. I am being a true friend. Not very many will be able to tell you these things, and I am telling you because I want you to get more out of life.I don't want my kids to be associating with a broke uncle. Do you want to be that uncle that I'll never introduce to my kids?"

Magu went silent for a moment and looked at Kola who had clasped his hands before of his face.

"I'm guessing that's a no!"  Kola held his chin and his face lit up with an awkward smirk.
"But seriously Kola, what do you want out of life? Do you know you've had so many opportunities? But your ego has let them slip out of your hands. I know you, I know you very well! When things get tough you bail. isn't that true?"

'oh wow,' Kola thought.

"Take a look at your past with your friend... That guy you started business with... What happened when shit hit the fan? Did you fight for your own, Did you even try? You just runaway, now LOOK at where he is, LOOK! He might not be where I am but he is somewhere... He is somewhere. Do you think you're becoming younger?"

"So what ya say is am a failure, ey? asked Kola. "You no understand, bruh.  I dan been pon di yard working my ass off on a daily, I dan swept the streets with a couple of my yardi boys looking for a shilling. I done been out there spitting poetry and flowing rhyme after rhyme with mi rap basically on the grind and you have the auDAcity to keep on chatting and dancing pon mi ead!  You-a-mad man!..."

Disgruntled by the conversation, Kola shook his head, closed his eyes for a moment and laid back with his hands over his head.   "You no, bruh, I always thought you wanted me to handle tings how you a'handle em."

"No, no, Kola, that's where you get me wrong!"

"Nah bruh, listen!" Check dis, I realised your intent was to tear di pages out of mi book and put deir your own... So all dis while I've been try'na do tings how you want dem to be done instead of takin' on mi own journey and apprecia'tin dat I've made it up to here from zero  So mi dear friend, you could'a compare me to 'im and 'im but you got to be careful. Non of da tings your chasin after a go give you piece of mind.

"Nooo, Kola. Don't get me wrong."

"Deir you go again! Da problem is you never listen, brah, You always keep yappin' and yappin' like you've got some verbal iLLness or sometin'. You better be careful, yeah. I might be the one that's walKin through your life to give you a lesson that you might be missin'"

"Like I said, Kola. I don't know much and I don't even have anything to my name. I just want what's good for you."

"But you na listen! You jut out dere pointin' fingers and disectin' a broda like you know what's in my inner. Let me ask you one quick question, yeah. Do you tink I haven't put in my all for mi business?"

"You convinced yourself you had done enough and you've opted to leave the country as a scapegoat from your problems. But, let me tell you something. You are going to leave them here and your going to come back when they have multiplied threefold! But anyway, the final resolve is by you . I can say all these things but at the end of the day, it's you that makes the final decision."

Kola nodded his head and said, "True... true."

Mindi, Kola's friend walked in on them from the reception where she waited for him.   "I've been hearing you two mumu's(fools) going on and on about nothing like little girls," Said Mindi.
They looked at her in shock, she took off her spectacles to rub her eyes. and placed them onto Magu's table
"So I had to come in to stop you so I can finish my book... Magu, You better be thankful to God for giving you the ability that you have and blessing your endeavours. All the clients you approach have the capability of saying no, but God's grace softens their hearts and opens doors for you. Don't forget that!" Magu scratched is bold head.
 "Kola, You lazy mumu!" Kola looked down shamed by her words.
"Things don't come easy, especially in business! God can only bless the work of you hands if you are committed and persistent. It's also important to know that many of us are anointed to do certain things. A lot of times we do other things to get us to that point. I can't tell you what's for you. But, you'll know when you know! One last thing. Money isn't the epitome of success. We get that wrong in this materialistic world that pressurises us, puts us in positions where we become selfish and lose our way. We should learn to be content whilst working to keep ourselves afloat and happy."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Where's my mac?

After taking a shower, Olivia searched her bag to find her favourite make up.

"O.M.G! I can't believe this bitch! She took my 'MAK'." Said Olivia. Her friend kidema was seated on the bed watching her as she flipped her bag pouring out everything onto her bed to look for her mac. 

"I wonder why she calls it 'MAK.' It's MAC! Ah!" 

"But you know she studied in SA," said Kidema." So she likes to pick up accents... But how sure are you she's the one that took it?" 

"I CAN SMELL HER PERFUME ALL OVER MY BAG! It's like she baths in it! Gosh!" I wonder how her boyfriend turns her on. First of all she's  vantablack and then all that perfume on her neck... looorrdd"

"Haaaa! Olivia you're sooo evil! She's not all that dark. But giiiirl! I'm just lucky she's gone. I love her but she talks toooo much. I always feel a squeak in my ear. You know like, when you've been listening to really loud music a while. 

"I knooow.... hahahha! I wonder if she listens to herself when she's talking. Her boyfriend must tell her "baby, I love you, but shuuuut up!" 

"Hey maje, you alright" said Kidema... She pumped her fist on her chest as if mimicking the sign out of a fist pump. 

"Haha. I wonder, what that word 'maje' means" said Olivia. She must hang out a lot with those locals in her neighboured... You know, 
She's so unbelievable. Especially for someone that's grown up from a really wealthy family. She's just too strange!" 


"I remember the first time I met her," said KIdema." "She was wearing this really long beautiful white dress. I think it was a Friday or something. And she was ranting about how she hates long dresses cause they make her feel like she's dragging a wedding dress. I looked at her in awe. This was like the first thing that came out of her mouth. Then she introduced herself as she sort of pulled back her hair..." 

"She does that a lot, right? Said Olivia. "She's actually pretty shy. It surprises me most times"

"Yeah! So anyway, she goes ahead and asks me, "Maje, do you smoke?" I'm thinking what?! It was so random. She's so random. Ooh poor thing!" 
kidema sat back in her chair and went into a state of ponder... 

"I swear I can't find my mac." Said Olivia. She paced all over her room checking out her dresser and reading table but all in vain. She went onto her knees to look under bed. 

"Ooh, look! It's here..." Olivia scratched her head and looked to the ground in shame.

"And there you were accusing your friend, shame on you! "

Monday, 26 September 2016

Pizza delivery!

Her lashes flattered over my chest, it was ticklish, sensual. I could barely keep the urge in. I held her tiny buns with my firm palm and pulled her up and closer. Her thighs right over mine- crossed behind my back, her arms locked over my shoulders; I felt her body shiver. It was neither fear nor the rush of spiteful cold. It was lust rushing through her veins. It felt like Ganga had found its way in her body and the night tides were raging through her. My heart beat like a sledge over hot iron. It had purpose. It was sending me a message. and for every second that ticked. I obliged. Our eyes met, I glanced deep into the vortex of her deep brown pupil. I could see how much she wanted me. The universe didn't oppose, it set the mood right, It was time for our souls to intertwine combine and seal us together. Her back was warm, my luck had grown so I pulled her in closing out all room for us to falter. She closed her eyes. The time was now. I felt hefty between my groin , her nipples were firm, I could feel them press against me, tender! Oh so tender.So I reached in for her lower lip, my eyes closed, my mind out of service. My heart beat- it had turned into an orchestra of percussion drums and hers, even though I was mildly deaf sounded like a conga. If they ripped them out our chests they would march away singing kumbaya- At least there we'd lay locked in each other for our souls to travel up hand in hand from our top most chakra. But reality was with us, not against us, and her lip was cold but sweet like a cherry Popsicle. Once mine enveloped hers,  our body heat rose, it felt like someone had turned up the heat. Yet it was just her and I on my floor bed with a window ajar and white drape waving with a slug as the breeze rolled in. Her body was confused, I felt goosebumps rush up her back, and with passionate swoon, I slipped my tongue past her "lips". I intended to go deep till I had the door bell ring...

Sunday, 11 September 2016

The Nigerian High Commission

Their holiday begun as expected with the sound of Adhan. A prayer call that their father made every morning before he'd dress up to watch news then leave for work. Once they rose and prayed along side him in their small home mosque, their father made his way to the second sitting room and turned on BBC to catch up with the cruel world. The boys matched right across and made their way to the black leather seats- cold until occupied by many hours of posterior heat. They turned on the console and their fingers thumped away at the pads.
I had visited Ngugi for the weekend. so this time round, he didn't rise early. We slept late hanging out on the rooftop balcony playing table tennis- their fathers favourite pass time. When we woke up, barely freshened, we went down stairs to the kitchen to look for bread in the pantry and make ourselves some tea by the bar like stools that were in the middle of the kitchen besides a marbled kitchen counter.  We could hear his brother's voices roar in distress. One of them must have been on the offensive so panic arose. After having our ginger tea scented with tea masala spice, we scattered through the corridor, past the stair case and joined them. They were fully engaged. So Ngugi, the joker stood right in front of the Sony TV that was atop oak wood. His brothers threw a fit and the other managed to score and break into celebration. Ngugi dashed to the parking lot trailed by his elder brother. He run past the telecommunication mast that was in their yard near the boys quarter. He took a turn up the drive way to the gate polished in glimmering black. His brother gave up on the chase and hollered from the bottom of the slope;
"IWE LINDHA KU, WENAH KUGHEMA, NDA KHWITA!" A threat to kill him if he caught him. Ngugi panting like a worn out street dog with a smile to change the world. Stood their a moment to catch his breath then made his way back to the house through the immediate drive way that lead to the main sitting room. He passed by his mother and said, "Good morning Mummy." uncertain on whether she replied as he made his darted to the second sitting room to meet us. The moment was past them and he had been forgiven. So he suggested they go out and play. Their home was a castle; a neverland. They lived a luxurious central town life on the lavish residential area of Kololo hills, Uganda. It had massive parking space for their fleet of second hand cars and enough compound space for the kids to play football and ride around on their bicycles. Ngugi grabbed his skateboard and made his way to the gate to start them off, He rolled down the hill swerving past the mast with a near miss and ended up in the parking lot sheltered with a blue tent top. I followed right after on the two wheel scooter. I rolled down with ease until I picked up speed then lost control. I tumbled down, fast as an f1 car. I failed to make the turn so I hit the pavement that was right ahead of me and the grass cushioned my fall. Ngugi's elder brother came in right after me and was doing the famous no brakes stunt that Ngugi, invented. He failed to make a wide enough turn to enter the corner. So he went right for the mast, hit the pavement that separated it from the road and landed right into its base. His wild laugh turned to moon silence. I watched Ngugi drop his board in shock and run to call his mother. Their mother came in complaining in a strange language. I stood in awe wondering what she was going to do to us. She picked him and asked him if he was okay. He wasn't! He was trembling like a wet cat, blood spilling out of his mouth hiding his broken tooth. She quickly carried him into the car, raved towards the gate, and  took him to the nearest hospital.
He was brought back home that evening and was mad as a scorned woman due to the pain. Ngugi held his giggles for later, I  had been taken home early because of the tragic incident.
It was a beautiful holiday despite the tragedy. Many days after, they packed up and moved elsewhere. Their home leased out to the Nigerian high commision, Uganda.  

Sunday, 4 September 2016

Catching up

I am currently doing a creative writing course. Hence the stories.
I am on a journey of growth, so I am taking break from the poetry until I feel ready to extricate my feelings with new parlance  But for anyone out there that reads my posts and poetry, I really appreciate!! Than you so much, so much.

Stay well, Find comfort and peace in the worlds uproar. 

A trip to the suburb market

He grabbed his favourite.shoes from the rack. Beige in color, light and easy to wear similar to the famous "jotti" shoes "circus freaks" wore for their acts. He had been in India a few weeks and was yearning a home cooked meal. The spices and diarrhea had stuck him out.
It was about 5.45 pm, The city was wired block to block, with cable tv, electric wires, and internet cables. If you had electrophobia you'd worry day-long. He had somewhat overcome his fear despite the beautiful view out his window-  a central point for the neighbourhood's internet connection.

The skies were grey and threatening to throw rhinos from the sky. They often teased when the monsoon season came around. He didn't carry an umbrella on him, I guess he felt rain proof. His biggest worry despite the wires running up above was getting shocked so he always wore boots hoping they'd protect him.
After locking his door with an extra nudge and bolting it to secure- he set off and run down the stairs. A quick agile man that still had plenty of energy to leap over steps given the opportunity.
A couple of blocks away, embraced by the dampness of the city, he walked past stray dogs, and city goats living gracefully in the suburb.
The town had wafts of dung in the air. Cows took shits all over the place with no fucks to give. Drizzles started to pour from the clouds, he started to worry, he kept walking. The market wasn't far so he didn't feel discouraged. The drizzles turned into mild pours from the skies, he held his sweater over his head to cover him...
In a flash, the street lights went out. Darkness consumed the street but people kept on with their business.. It wasn't a new happening to them, so he did like the Romans and soldiered on . The septic by the side of the road was overflowing, his shoes got wet trying to leap over it and landing into a puddle. He was overwhelmed, like a child with no voice to speak.
He kept trekking and a couple of blocks down the road he reached the market stools. The market vendors on the pavements covered their merchandise with  poly-bags from the rain, while others used "tela gari's," with roof tops to carry their merchandise. Clearly designed and prepped for the monsoon season.
"tum kya chahte ho?" What do you want? one of the vendors asked him.
"1kg rice, 1kg potatoes" he said.
She bobbed her head in approval and weighed his rice, then potatoes. She put the rice in its own polythene, Then he handed her his synthetic shopping bag where she placed all his groceries. The power came back at about this time and he thought to himself, 'thank God!'
"80 rupees," she said, as she bobbed her headed once again. He pulled the cash from the back pocket of is dun brown chino.
"dhanyavad" thank you, he said in a shaky tone due to uncertainty then bobbed his head, it was contagious practice.
When she handed him the bag, he turned round and made his way back. The rains had sort of faded, It was now chilly, petrichor emanated from the ground as it had been a couple of days since it rained. The smell of dung was now faint, or maybe he had grown accustomed to it. Minutes later, he was home hanging his sweater to dry from the rain that had soaked it. 

"Fatso"

Look at you!  You can barely tie your laces. I caught you at 3 am last night when I woke to pee  and all you could tell me was, "I'm starving, mahn..." You should write a guide on how to grow fat and not care.' I remember when we were younger, for some reason, mum thought you were sick. You looked like those kids in UNICEF ads; so malnourished! I know it's awful to say; ayeh, it makes me wonder if Africa's the only place with starving folks? Now for some odd reason, you train tracked your way to chubby land. You're a star I tell you, you're a star! Often we look at some of our friends and aren't sure whether they are the cause of their current state. Most times we point fingers and say they didn't see the ditch right before them when they fell into it, and truth is we are wrong. Body structures differ and so do weight preferences. But, I've watched you day and night knit your fat suit, now your telling me you can't fit into your new shirt.
At the break of dawn, you rise in the morn like all you dreamt of was walking through Charlie's chocolate factory. You reach out for the candy bars that you vault some where in your room, scuffle through the polyester shopping bag, only to pick out your favourite snickers bars. Your fingers rub them like smeagol and his precious ring. You then rip them open and deep the whole bar of calories into your hippo mouth, one by one. Then you sleep them off for a few hours and wake up to your kings breakfast. Cassava, chapatti, boiled eggs to stir up your farts, a pair of sausages to wrap in your chapatti, and a mug of thick porridge. The doctor said we should have balanced diet, you've blown the advice out of proportion. You wake up at 11 am, have your brunch meal and then demand your lunch at 1.30 pm. I wonder where your food goes? I mean you're a big vessel and all but what goes down there seems to be going through a bottomless pit. I'm not making fun of you or anything, I'm sure you know this saying, "ebyenaku bisekebwa" (misery is often funny). I'm just pointing out what you fuss to me about.  But what am I supposed to do when after lunch you're asking if there are any snacks in the fridge? Then you go ahead and check it a million times, like you have a lamp some where in your room that you're going to rub and a genie's going to hook you up with a bite. You spend all your money on nothing constructive,  you're a 23 year old man with a senseless mind of a teenager. All you buy yourself is dunkin' donuts and Oreos to deep in milk. I love my Oreos but you don't see me swimming in a pool of them! You have to get yourself together, telling me how you feel isn't going to make the situation better. You have to quit eating dinner like you've never had a meal in your life and snacking up all night. It's outrageous, it truly is.  It's a good thing went shopping yesterday. All those mirrors in the dressing room were a wake up call.  It's best you get your shit together and stop whining about your weight yet you can't change your ways.

Wheels of death

The treads of my Yamaha whisked over the scorching asphalt. It was a hot afternoon, the kind that made your hair itch if you had a helmet on. I rode like a dare devil. I was about halfway way the stretch on the service rode heading home, riding inches away from the rail that cut of the main highway. Before me was madman in his maruti Suzuki backing up on one of the feeder roads to return towards my way and concord towards his afternoon duties. He came into the service road like a truck and didn't see me coming  on my invisible motorbike. I tried to swerve and miss him as he turned, he run into me like a matador. My life didn't flash before me, no! The collision sent me flying, I was superman over his bonnet. My motorbike was hit to the side and half its body parts lay on the road, as the oils dripped right out. It felt like it bled. I landed on my backpack full of books, They cushioned my fall and I rolled till my right foot thumped the ground and halted me. I got dazed, my eyes partially blind with glares floating before me. I could feel my ankle pulsating and like acid drops dripping onto me I felt agony from my dripping wounds.
I don't know where people came from to surround me, but a bunch of onlookers darted towards me and carried me to the side of the road. I could barely breathe and was overwhelmed by the crowd around me asking questions in Hindi that I didn't speak. a couple other fellows dashed for the culprit trying to make a run for it. They caught him and banged at his door till he came out of his car guilty and shamed for attempting to flee...

Sunday, 3 July 2016

KLA [Performance piece]

KLA

I was born and raised in the beautiful city KLA,
in wandegeya flats opposite Makerere of KLA.
I went to sunshine kindergarten then Agakhan primary both in the heart of KLA.
My Secondary had a slump in it when they dropped timid me in Kibuli S.S KLA;
ayeh, I got out when asked to rebound and moved to GHA of KLA,
all thanks to my mother who persuaded my father to take me out of misery.
Now, some might say I'm spoilt and bougie, who cares; I'm from KLA.
But don't get me wrong like they do out here in KLA,
truth is, needless to say, we all have places we fit in here in KLA,
and those were mine until I had to leave KLA...


Then I heard hearsay from people while I was away about my KLA,
they'd say that her people had turned gay i felt betrayed by my KLA,
they'd say thugs now use crowbars just to rob bags in KLA,
and that the gang Kifacey was going all out in Katwe of KLA.
Ayeh, robbery wasn't tragedy, the problem was lack of jobs they'd say.
And now that I got back into the heart of UG KLA,
I see all these  learned youth that studied to get jobs in KLA-
making "steady progress" all day everyday on the streets  of KLA,
opting to drink beer without money to forget their worries of KLA,
or maybe sell Bagiya and or clothes in bikutiya to make ends meet here in KLA.
Now you might think this ironic or stale like tonic until the only way out for you in KLA
is to become another sell out or butty boy like those balling here in KLA,
but don't judge a man's hustle if you've lived in KLA,
cause hey! A man's got to do what a man wants to do here in KLA.
That's why I don't blame Museveni who run for another term to run KLA,
despite our cliché pot holes roads that shouldn't be spoke of like voldemort here in KLA,
or even the hospitals that have minimal machinery here in KLA,
and runaway doctors 'cause of brain drain someone should have trained them to stay in KLA-
but hey! Minimum wage is little or no pay for our doctors, teachers, or anyone supporting KLA,
yet ministers unlike Jennifer are on Caviar everyday for what, ey!? Snoring in parliament of KLA?
Then the infuriating patrol and tear gas cars that control us on the roads of KLA,
the absurd traffic that has us in long queues everywhere in KLA,
it's like were lining up for passports at the ministry of internal affairs near Lufula, KLA.
Then the popo that won't say no-no  to a little dough-dough in KLA,
pshh! just to give you leeway from a melee  here in KLA,

But hey, hey, hey, I didn't come here to rep over nega-ti-vi-teh in KLA
Even if we got chicks that gold dig deep, streets that don't sleep and men that pay for sweet sleep in KLA;
nah, we're good mahn, tuli bulungi here in KLA
ayeh keep an eye on your good bae, she's prey for those with cash to play in KLA,
'cause kampala sibizimbe and birds are feasts for those in waylay in KLA-
since we got girls from Busoga, mpigi, soroti, kigali, Burundi, nairobi, londoni- all in KLA,
That's 'cause the lights at least rarely go off here in KLA,
be it at home, schools, hospitals and most importantly bars and clubs of KLA.
That's why we par-teh all night in KLA,
we've got anonymous money and we're "happy" here in KLA,
that's why we dress so fresh oh were so LA here in KLA,
matter of fact their style is jaded compared to ours in KLA,
you see us on the streets and new malls in KLA,
in clothes crotchet to fit you'd think we own Impala's here in KLA,
Yet, If you want to go fast like kiprotich and swish through the streets of KLA-
hop onto a boda boda but you better have pessa for your odyssey in KLA
I tell you we are educated over here in KLA,
that's why I have a smart brain manufactured in KLA,
and even if we might not have enough cooperate jobs in my KLA,
we're street smart and the future's bright for KLA.
Gezesa ku baana baife abomu ghetto da KLA,
bale tibaide ba JAY Z, bategeka ebigambo, babimeketa, meh babiwandula mu myala ja KLA,
ateh wano mu KLA abasoga nabasinga mu eigwangwa lya kabaka elistwire KLA;
ayeh Baba! ogenda nosanga omwuala wa buganda mu KLA,
nga' asitude wamanga! naye nga tamanyi banyankole bafe aba KLA-
usanga abanyarwandakazi bafite amazi i KLA

And then they say the grass is always greener on the other side but not here in KLA,
Sha! our weather's so beautiful some say if you want a taste of heaven come to KLA,
have you seen the beautiful views here in KLA,
Buziga, Muyenga, Rubaga, Kibuli, Kololo in all KLA.
Our city's so green you could think we're vegetarians here in KLA,
and oh Gosh! The food for us gourmets in KLA
Name any other city where you'll get all cuisines and our local dishes of KLA?!
And then the all day all night special from Busoga that found its way into KLA.
Can we please have a moment of silence for the Rolex(not the watch!)
And even if we might not have a lot of burgundy here in KLA,
every day is bargain day in KLA.
And sometimes we might cheat ourselves to break even in KLA,
but we are loving and welcoming people here in KLA,
and our extended families are a strong support system here in KLA,
so don't mind the six inch fences we do welcome all into our homes any day in KLA.
But don't get it twisted, we'll treat you as our own but you better pay those yaka bills of KLA.
Here's a fun fact, did you know KLA is the only city where the people are developing faster than it is?
I love my KLA...

We could be here all day and night to talk about KLA
but I'm not one stay even if I love it when you say, "KLA"
so until we meet again keep  it surreal, live and love KLA

Another one bites the dust

Echoes of the melodic words;
"once a cheat always a cheat"
tweet in my mind like hummingbirds;

Nag me and keep me on my feet-
ducking shots and ignoring calls,
trying not to deal with the beautiful fleet.

That could re-affect my rapport if nature calls.
'Cause Us guys are easy like ABC's
just a glimpse of skin can break our walls...

See, I've dealt with girls from overseas,
girls that in us see no faults,
and girls that just put you on your knees.

I've told stories of Rita who I run from like bolt,
Hajat that cried wolf in family trivia,
Caslanthia, who worshipped the ground  I waltzed

But as you know, life is a cinema.
every day a new tale to play out for God
from "written scrolls" that reveal who we are.

Now in whirl wind off my feet I'm aboard,
emotional gravity like a leaf midair;
and much as I've given into her fraud...

I still, in silence and wonder as I stare
'cause my eyes are not frostbitten,
and what they see is sometimes unfair.

Fair maidens biting at fiflthy dust,
hoping and wishing over wanderlust-
yet despite this body being chaste,

I also secretly ask myself
what it'd be like if we took this path ?


The Angels Voice

The Angels Voice

Act I
Scene 1; At the hospital reception.
Narrator; An intern who often has one of her friends come over to see her at the hospital talks about the distress hospitals bring her;

16:23pm(if I had my way)
"I hate hospitals! (Mary says)
They're like burial grounds;
however; unlike death,
misery is unbound,
it's like a one way street;
with no exits to leave.
for even when one's back on their feet,
and discharged; they're charged like thieves,
as if from the hospital they stole the disease,
and that's not the end of it, they need medicine,
another reason to have them on their knees,
weak, sombre controlled by intoxicants-
that make your recovering body dependant,
to the dosages from currency generating juggernauts.

It drives me crazy! I don't even know why I chose to do Medicine, and you know...

The issue is neither cannula's, needles,
nor ailing patients or sick widows,.
doctors that have lost all emotion,
expecting mothers causing commotion,
rolling on floors due to pain and distress,
the open wounds and disturbing fractures,
or patients with sickening fistula,
grown men in diapers with diarrhoea;
no! It's also not the blind stuck in lines,
to have other underlying illness diagnosed,
babies with plasters crying all day.
grown men coerced by fists of pain,
gallons of blood down hospital drains,
it's not that, matter of fact it's none of that,
for to me, even if it might be odd to another,
those are the experiences that fascinate me.

But what gets to me,
is that all these people are innocent,
none of them asks to suffer.
Okay, some say they slipped,
lost grip and landed into HIV,
but all they sought was to satisfy-
desire that haunts every being..

If I had my way,
at least, diseases would be for people causing trouble in societies.
If I had my way,
hospitals would treat all for free but doctors too have needs.
If I had my way,
babies would be peed into bowls and left to hibernate,
I mean we're about 75% water, so somehow we save mothers.
If I had my way,
diarrhoea would be for those exorbitant foodies that just don't know when to stop

(They both crack up and Yagwe Interjects, "
"if wishes were horses, beggars would be riding and dons would be the horses. ")
Mary just goes on wishing,
If I had my way,
people like you would get migraines whenever they'd say things like that!

Narrator;    An ambulance comes in and  duty calls.
Mary: "I'm sorry Yagwe, niina oku genda. But I'll see you soon, text me or something ... don't be a stranger!"
Yagwe strolls back home

End of scene 1.

Scene 2; At the hospital's cafeteria.
(I'm not ill, I have a malignant tumour)
A week after the patient had been admitted, Yagwe drops  by the hospital to see Mary...
As he looks for her in the cafeteria, he finds her with Derone having lunch and joins in.

"Yagwe... Hey! Omaze notuuka¿" Mary says.
"Meet Derone, the guy with such an outlandish name.
Engalo ze zikaluba enge zabalimi abava e bundibugyo..."

"Ha! Really Mary! Don't listen to her, she's just having her way with me cause there's not much I can do about it right now..." (Derone holds his head in an attempt to suppress a creeping headache)

"Are you okay?" Yagwe asks..

"He'll be okay, Oh btw, this is the patient that came in last time"

"For real!? Nice to meet you... uuhhmm "

"Derone, the names Derone Nsubuga"

"Haha, I figured something like Derone Davis. My names Yagwe, Chuck Yagwe,
The Chuck is short for Chakademus... "

(chuckles)

"So what are you in for?"

"I'm being charged for sarcasm, says Mary"

"hahaha, I see her stories are infectious. But no, seriously... looks like you've been serving time for a while since I was last here. It must be something serious."

"Well, I have a tumour, a brain tumour..."
"Don't give me those eyes, I'm not the first! "

"Haha. It's inevitable, So what's it like anyway?"

In partial breath, Derone attempts to describe...

"Hmm...
To be ill is to have a headache after watching TV,
and you drink it off with a glass of water.
To be ill is have your tummy ache-
'cause you ate something bad and healed it with magnesium.
To be ill is to have a cold caused by the cold,
yet all you need is to go out for a jog and shake of that mold.

But I'm not ill, I have tumour. And not the kind that's begnin,
a malignant one that's cancerous and kills you fast but serene.
as it invades your tissue and metastizes to different locations of your body.
sometimes it makes you feel ill, you feel like you have control over it,
but often it feels like your cut open everyday,
then someone drops obuganga(gun powder) on your fresh open wound;
smirks at you for a moment and lights that bitch up it with a match.
And when you get a seizure, you start to feel like a beaver biting on steel,
and when your body gets paralysed, hemiparesis, they call it,
one would think you had swag but it's like  carrying a bag of cement on one side.
At times, you get visually distorted, you start to see with one eye,
but the fish on the hook is not the slur in my speech, nausea, and or vomiting,
It's the headaches, they never go away, it's like I am earth and pain is caused-
by those above me, stumping, and stumping, and stumping, I wish could stop them!
I wish we could trade shoes, I wish the pain would go away, but I'm fine! I'm proud of myself.
I'll keep my shoes 'cause I wouldn't wish this on anybody, not even for a day! "

(Scene ends)

Scene 3; Cursing God. (Am I your toy?)
That evening, Derone has a rough night, wakes up in pain and decides to get himself one of those prescription beers given to patients having withdrawal; however, he goes to the bathroom first....

"What the fuck do you want from me God?" He says.

"This must be like a block buster to you,
and you're there with your girl on popcorn-
and I'm that dramatic yet egotistic fella-
playing witty yet sad in your telenovela...

What the fuck do you want from me, what?

You want politeness, Ok, thank you, lord,
for you have give me a beautiful tumour,
do you not see that I'm coughing out blood,
do you have any sort of mercy within you?
And then you call yourself All mighty GOD...

What the fuck do you want from me, WHAT?

When unprepared how can this be a test?
Yet you have me on knees begging please,
you're like a woman yet we call you "Him,"
you want me to plead and prove to you,
yet you can look within and see it all...

What the fuck do you want from me, WHAT!

Looking at myself in the mirror, I'm weak!
Contemplating suicide but I won't abide,
I won't cause myself any other form of pain-
the only reason I'm still alive and ranting,
is cause I am not as weak and stupid as you!

I would never cause anyone pain, why?!
But you have me in your "torture chamber,"
tormenting me to give answers to no questions,
feeling like a needle is going up my pee hole,
you're a sadist, you must be Hitler's brother

What do you honestly want from me, What?

Am I just your little toy,
matter of fact are we your little toys?
Your little characters of this toy story,
where without your puppet strings,
or hands to hold us up we're nothing,
then you must be an eight year old,
with ambitions to seek and earn gold,
so you're playing out caricature-
to give you some delusional satisfaction...

Uggh! (sighs in pain)

I often find peace when I'm feeling OK,
but it's days like these when I feel like shit,
that I would rather play roulette all alone,
but I'm more than just this pain, these pills,
I am more than all those awful people-
that waste time and emotion to demean me,

But why? Why? Why?
Why would you make me so strong yet so weak?

And you never hear me when I call on you,
I mean I'm thankful for the days I breathe,
look up at the sky and see your beauty;
but out of the 365 days in a calendar year-
I have 200 to be amazed by your stupidity!

The rest, I honestly have no damn time,
to remember that you gave me life,
I mean look at me, I barely have the energy,
to leave this bathroom to go steal a beer,
I mean they prescribe them to patients
having withdrawal, why can't I have one?"

Ugh, (he sighs and groans in pain then falls to the ground!)

[End of scene.]

Scene 4; At the hill top in Buziga.
(we are mortal)
When Derone is feeling better after collapsing in the bathroom,
Mary and Yagwe decide to treat him so they take him to the hills...

"God! Is this what  getting into heaven feels like?" says Derone.

" It's been a while since you left those four walls?" Yagwe asks,

"You have no idea, my friend. You have no idea!"

"My life is an extract from Greys anatomy,
I'm in and out of hospitals and ambulances,
you'd think I'm a doctor or an EMT yet I'm-
ordinary man and this isn't the life I chose"

Silence creeps into there space and Derone breaks it,
when he pulls out a cigarette only for Mary to say,

"Derone, are you crazy?"

"Hahaaa, let me tell you something Mary, we are mortal.
It's the only thing that keeps me going, the only thing.
If you're looking to be accepted into a society,
then you have to act like the people of the society.
But, if you're looking for the society to accept you,
be you so that society can understand you.
It's simple,
God created us as humans to prove our appreciation,
he is a jealous God, isn't he?
Doesn't that give him reason to test us?
And don't we all have the choice to do right or wrong?
God knows the outcome of our eventual choices-
that is what they call pre-ordination for he is steps ahead,
and this is how this moment was meant to play out,
I've been dealt cards and I play as the joker!

But honestly, one thing that rings constantly in my head is,
we are mortal,
Even if you have ten bitches like Hugh heffner and they call you Mr Peaches;
we are mortal!
Even if you can drive your car with your shoulders and swerve a couple of boulders;
we are mortal!
Even if you can do hand stands like Jackie Chan and probably belong in the circus;
we are mortal!
Even if one day you, Yagwe, get the chance to sleep with Mrs world, the world won't remember that shit, neither will will you for;
we are mortal!
So even if I smoke blunts, chug bottles, stagger back to my home with piss running down my crotch;
we are mortal!
Even if I twitch, flinch, get headaches that tick and pinch when I hear sounds with high pitch;
we are mortal!"

Yagwe joins in...

"Even if we go to school, study and work hard to get good jobs and security for our transit life;
we are mortal!
"Even if we cook good, or make love like those romantic deities we've never even seen;
we are mortal!"

Then Mary too catches on,

" or even if I have lips like Jolie, walk like Tyra and look as beautiful as zari;
we are mortal!

"I'm glad your getting my drift!"

"How about if I live my life like Hitler and think some human beings are unworthy of their lives?" Yagwe asks.

"Well, we a are mortal, it could be a motto.  But don't live your life incautious of how you treat others. You'd rather be selfish to yourself than to those around you."

Act 2; The twist
Scene 5; The surgery
Derone has been picking up and things are looking good for him. He's from a wealthy family so the money for the surgery wasn't fund raised  It was available so the surgery happened as soon as the doctors suggested and it was successful.  They discharged him on private home care to recover and his recovery time was miraculous; However, Weeks later, he died in an accident as he was making a trip to the mall to buy Marry a present for her birthday.  In his will, which he wrote while at the hospital thinking he would not make it out of the surgery. He suggested that Marry write his eulogy and she did so...

(The angle's voice)

"I had only known Derone Nsubuga for a few months before his tragic passing.
So I knew very little about him but when he spoke, it's like scrolls of old were being unrolled.
He lived his life a little too far off the edge but I figured he was a daring eagle,
the kind they shoved out of the nest to take on life and learn how to flap his wings.
He taught me to have strength and gave me reason to live right and do right by people.
he was an honourable man. He has gone to soon, I have lost a friend and budding love...

It is not the quantity of time spent together,
nay, it is the quality of the ardent moments.
It is not from gifts we receive and treasure,
nay, it is in the words that sink deep when spoken.

It is not those in whom we find convenience,
nay, it is in those we find confidence and comfort.
It is not in those who hide behind innocence,
nay, it is in those whom truth comes first.

It is not in those who mask deep emotion,
nay, it is from those souls that spew out like fountains.
It is not in those who are shallow like the bay of an ocean,
nay, It uses the souls of those whom depth of knowledge can pertain.

The angle's voice speaks only through some of us.
our bodies if pure, are portals, if impure are superfluous.

Like Derone always said, "we are mortal." To add on, we are mortal but we can be portals.

Thank you.  Good evening"

Scene 6; The dreary monologue
Yagwe is over whelmed by the situation after having lost his friend, he goes back to the spot where they had taken him before he died, stays their alone, and rants to God about the situation...

"In the midst of  unseen budding flowers,
late night hours and twinkling stars;
I ruminate over my flaws and the laws-
that govern us beings you made.

Time seems to be mother of all
but in our hands it slips like pearl beads-
that we use to recite our hail Marys,
and in a flash, the clock stops to tick.

It's absurd and my mind it perturbs;
how you can distress a man's whole life,
heal him in an instant then kill him;
I try to adhere your motive sans retort.

Some days you bring me in close,
most times your strange devious ways,
they tenderly push and abash my soul-
yet I am yours after all why take a toll?

I stumble and fall you pick me up, lord!
I cry then unto you I call and you heed,
I smile and laugh then forget you exist,
you must get awfully mad this I must desist!

But I persist that you handle this all wrong,
cause often its seems you're just playing-
swishing and swaying your magical wand,
tweaking moments to cause an alarm.

I look at situations and they overwhelm me,
thinking can I verily do this better than He,
I often say yes but if put to the gruelling test,
I'd fail like a scholar and whimper at best.

I'll lay this to rest, it must bring you distaste.
me being churlish for I cannot comprehend,
what it is like to be in your enormous shoes.
keep them, my size fits fine, you chose it.

And on this journey I trek you give me aid,
you sent me Derone to shake and wake me,
had I cast a blind eye I'd miss the blessing
 yet truly who am I to receive your grace?

Who are we?  Who are we?"

Closing scene; I don't deserve this. Choir song

Sunday, 26 June 2016

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Ty dollar sign kapata just posted a new photo-
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Parliamentarians swindle cash and-
they say it's an egalitarian society.

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You've been invited to an all white party-
to throw some cash on the floor and,
rub your ego with other vain people.
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The states wining party is feasting on cakes-
as we wither in our morbid state.

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commented saying, "bro, your red eyes remind me of tear gas!"
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Causing fear and terror in people's minds-
makes them succumb to "democracy."

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mental slavery subduing our creativity.

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Slaves worked nine to five,
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Materialism isn't an efficient;
depiction of a happy life, be careful!

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Kofi posted a photo of himself bare chested-
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it's also important to know we have a key role-
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One of his friends joked, "Al-shabab!"
Pop!
The world's full of ignorant and narcissistic-
terrorists of different races and religions,
some dressed as Muslims, others in suites and ties.

Poop!
Our Facebook ads are now filled with multi national corps,
We are officially never going to develop!
Pop!
Those that borrow money for the nation and misappropriate it
leave the future generation indebted to their selfishness.

Poop!
The neighbour hood bourgeoisie posted a photo-
of his fleet of cars and mansion.
Pop!
We all have freedom of speech and expression;
ayeh, be careful what you show off and how you show it off.

Poop!
Candy updated her status saying,
"Whom Jah bless, no man a curse!
Haters can go and hang!"
Pop!
A humble and silent soul is gold and seats atop tons of gold.

Poop!
1 new message and attachment.
Message reads, "Hey would you like to come over,
so I can share my dick with you?"
Pop!
Like our "records in heaven",
what we post and share can be used against us in the future.

Reminder;
A lie is told by "the liar to the liar."
I mean, if you don't know it's a lie,
it's the truth to you who's receiving it.
Seek wisdom and spread knowledge,
speak and preach truth, not garbage.

Note to self;
Social media is a platform that can change the world for better,
if its user is an abuser, the world could miss out on what's relevant.

Signing out.


Friday, 3 June 2016

Owange mwidi!

Owange mwidi!

Owange mwidi,
sister wa mukwano wa sister wange.
Namwagana ku madala nga vaireh aka swetah,
omusana gwali guli tintima namwewunya,
engeri javalamu aka sweatah kumusana-
ogwali guli yaka nga gwebatumyeh otwita!

 Nali mubwangu nga nyenda fuuka nkali; ayeh,
twa wayamu katini yatandika okwelalikira
ga chali agali ga twiraineh.
Yagema kunviri de yamwenya kumbali mbali-
olwo lwene wetwa sokera okuwaya,
wenategeera embere de twagemagana nga obubina! :)

Owange mwidi,
Olusi awemula yaira mukwekaza!
Wokyewunya akulingirira ngo musiwa

Owange mwidi...
Aja yeneeza ng'o musoota;
ayeh nge mbwa; taluma!

Owange mwidi,
Aseeka yatika amiino nge empiti,
yabwatuka wewunya oba alina ensonyi.

Owange mwidi,
Ayenda okulambula ensi,
aja yansobera mba ndowoza mu lunzi,
ateh nabawo nga ndikwebuza sente-
wenjoditola mubino ebigambo byange?

Owange mwidi,
Tateera gema kukatima;
ayeh walekula aba nge'mbuzi edabo abalima.

Owange mwidi,
Waniiga yechanga yasirikirira,
kasta atandita mundolo oba yayomba ebyo nabigumira!

Owange mwidi,
Tafugika alinga mutamivu, ayeh, aja yakoba;
alekabantu bamufuge nga museveni nabana 'Uganda

Owange mwidi
Afa kubabe nga mama nomwana weh;
ayeh muniize! takubona wo! Ofuka nga muzimu mu maiso ge.

Owange mwidi,
Mugezi eiino amagezi gaswika;
ayeh aja yelalikirira ebintu ng'abasomi ababa bali tika minoh mukibina.

Owange mwidi
Tuja twalwana memale yanmukaku ngo'omusibe;
ayeh, wamaliliza, yeiza mwene kubanga omukwano gwange tiikomera!

Owange mwindi,
Mukyala wakatonda!
Ayeh waliyo byakola ebija byansobera!

Owange mwidi,
Aidi ofumba  nokulabirira  omuntu; ayeh,
womuwasa ng'oli subira ebyo byonka; oba osembye!

Owange mwidi,
Ni buti akavala ka sweatah ke...
Nga na kogela ku, ayeh tibikyuka,
ebindi tumala gaguuma!

Owange mwidi,
Ninnza obasuza wano nga ndi mwinonolo;
ayeh, amunsinza, tida mukuwa,
twida kwira bwireh mukigwo!

Thursday, 2 June 2016

Nalinda (I waited...) [performance piece]


There's a hatchet in my chest,
(Ayayayayaya-yiiii,)
You let it lay to rest and then departed,
the sun was shining, breeze was swaying, mood was perfect;
ayeh, the memory of pleading that's all that I had to part with...

Naliinda, Naliinda, Nalinda...
Nga toidah, Nga toidah, Nga toidah...
Tiwaidah!

I waited for you...
I waited for you right there at the pearly gates,
I waited to let you in, but you came late.
my angel friends and I, we'd seat there and debate,
on if you'd come through to binge and partake,
on this heavenly love I wanted you to take, yet,
God knew you wouldn't come,
but you know him with a secret,
He just sits there and keeps it!
Quite often, I'd break glittery angel sweat-
take time off to come down and see you,
and for some odd reason you'd receive me with open arms-
palm on my chest as we lay to rest and thought of nothing else...
Ayeh, I wasn't your "every day special,"
I was more like your palm Sunday,
you celebrated me once but I kept wishing maybe some day-
'she'll celebrate me each and every dying day...'
And I waited, and waited...
Flights say delayed, rains stay away,
sometimes babies come late; but,
they all eventually arrive- even God will!
So who are you? Who are you?
 Who are you to wait out and weigh out my love?
Yet in my heart is where heaven is and I am it's keeper.

Naliinda, Naliinda, Nalinda...
Nga toidah, Nga toidah, Nga toidah...
Tiwaidah!

There's a bucket where I lay,
(Eole-eloe-eloe-eloh...)
That holds the plenty tears that I've been crying,
you gave me bits of you and then we parted,
before our love had bloomed it was so tragic

Naliinda, Naliinda, Nalinda...
Nga toidah, Nga toidah, Nga toidah...
Tiwaidah!



"Golden heart...?" [Performance piece]

"Golden heart...?"

I Gave her everything...
It's no wonder I lost my mind...

I gave her my eyes!
I failed to see all these beautiful girls-
they were needles, she was my hay stack;
ayeh, she didn't go blind for 'I'.

I gave her my lips,
I kissed hers with passion-
whilst her eyes were wide open,
scavenging her next prey,

I gave her my back,
I hunched back so she would hop on.
I carried her heavy heart and baggage,
but like her last our time didn't last.

I gave her my feet,
it's no wonder I couldn't move on,
I had no means to carry me forward,
I should have known she was a dead end.

I gave her my mind; I LOST IT!
She took it places it had never been,
she misguided it you wouldn't believe,
I turned stalker for a hawker selling lust...

I gave her my heart!
I excavated and reached for it,
I've been stalking her to find out if she sold it!
It turns out she couldn't refine it to see its worth,

For I found each gold carat piece,
rolling in the wind,
like a broken tumbleweed.




Thursday, 26 May 2016

Kaleidoscope [Performance piece]

Kaleidoscope.

As you journey you'll reach a slump,
everything that was indispensable,
will turn into a pack of disposables.
You'll feel like it's been exhausted,
and it's time to dispose of it, and
hopefully, just hopefully, recycle it.

The things we love or attract;
are by nature boundless in our lives,
we have no hand in their destinations,
yet they follow a designated course,
and for some odd preset reason,
we receive and entertain their company.

Some times I ask God why I love poetry,
like why did I have to love this art-
of little or no financial security?
Or then again, why do I love music?
one of the abominations of my religion,
and or the depiction of "elite struggle"...

It takes an artist to portray misery's depth,
all from the hard work and sleepless nights,
to no pay and disarray from disbelievers,
who are of your own and those unknown,
to then struggling with fame and change,
for as you toiled, you then became distant.

Then my little business, oh my business,
a random idea that trickled into my mind,
bit by bit over years like a tap it dripped-
then it filled my head with an "opportunity"
an idea to oppose, oppress and overwhelm,
yet truthfully a vague blessing in disguise...

Which when we implement; we are praised,
when we endure through; we are patient,
when we work but returns aren't returning;
we are battered, squandered, and compared-
to the rest that have also "tried and tested,"
But succeeded and achieved their bounty.

Ayeh,
what control do we have over the things we achieve?

Where do we start off to say and boast,
that it was all entirely our own doing-
that we ended up where we find ourselves,
in the families, schools, and relationships,
or even the struggles and emotions-
that delve deep and coerce our inner being?

That we choose those whom we love,
or for some odd reason end up in the same-
society, bar, field, church, or restaurant,
wherever it might be just to fall in love-
with this stranger of a different culture,
where do we start from; honestly, where?

It's such things that anger and depress me,
that make me wonder on the "unthinkable"
like what kind of devious God do we serve?

Didn't He foresee...
That Lucifer was going to turn into a rebel?
That that same angel was going stress Eve?
I mean after being burned from the land-
of beautiful angels that we humans use-
as references for the epitome of beauty,
He was bound to want something close...

Couldn't He just create a better pronoun from "Himself"
Like seriously,
didn't "He"know I was going to be disturbed by this,
didn't "He"  honestly  know I was going to get-
distressed and depressed then pen down things I didn't expect?
The worst part is the probable yes to all these questions,
that could lead me to be burned from my society...

Ayeh, the last one

Why?!
Why would "He" give us different religions that do give us morals but limit living experience, why?
Yet they separate us, then make us banish those we don't associate with into the inferno called hell.
Okay, I understand things need to be disposed of but why would one create a thing to do something- bad and then punish it for that very reason as if it asked to be me made with an after life option basing on how it acts.... ?

Some would say these are uneducated and misinformed thoughts, I don't blame them
but what governs us is way beyond our understanding and comprehension,
and it's understanding is all I seek...

For I have the freewill to do something that was pre-ordained...
That's complicated!
Way beyond those who we defy can explain to me.

Yet truthfully I am tired of suffering the disease of mediocrity,
all I want to do is pen down helpful thoughts like Socrates;
although, the poverty of ambition and persistence is ailing me,
but the worst disease one can suffer is the plague of ungratefulness,
that knocked on my door and led me here within your sphere.

Now at the end of the day I am healed from therapeutic writing,
so I am going to go back home and to God I will pray and say praise;
for getting me through the day and giving me this purpose to you.

I quote;
"This being human is a guest house,
Every morning a new arrival,
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
Some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor,
Welcome and entertain them all,
Be grateful for whoever comes
Because each has been sent as a guide..."

Tuesday, 24 May 2016

One in Billions (reprise)

Day by day a new born is welcomed;
some unwelcome, 
all to journey through this world, 
pivoted on an anonymous system; 
to exchange habits, emotions, 
inventions and also feel like victims.
Victims of circumstances they have no hand in, 
relating them to luck and or mysticism-
when they are far beyond their comprehension...
There on starts their mental detention...
This is where the masses fall, 
the million-fold sleeping behind concrete walls,
striving to achieve success in "careers,"
yet truthfully just in need of a pay check:
a leaf off a tree instead of the fruit that is free

Love what you do and nature will make you blossom,
don't fret to be perfect, grow, your fruits of labour await you.

Rise and Fall

I've been in massive crowds,
listened to acoustic cheers and applauds,
from the back and in front rows.
I've been almost negligible and at the podium,
weighing out if I am incredible or invisible,
and per now striving to be invincible-
it has given me an ego, I'm now feeble,
I don't know where I belong; I'm lukewarm;
among the billions or one in a billion.
Life, the universe, nature, God,
often throws opportunity at us,
when we catch it and lay Midas touch,
we start to feel some kind of worth...

Rise and Fall # Conjolted
Success takes you up pops up, lets you drop, and gives
you some more balloons if you're a tough cookie!

Then poof!

It's gone!

Some call it beginners luck,
you think you've put in enough hours,
Ha! Well here, have some flowers!
Someone beat you at your game
they now love him like they did you,
and us people love the finer things,
and us who are being loved are selfish,
we don't want our love shared,
we want that cut your cake and eat-
it all alone kind of confetti party.
Ayeh, does the person in your shoes-
know he's up next? Up next for the ride,
one that checks your survival skills,
where the loud cheers and applause,
turn into screams saying;
"GO HOME! EARTH IS FULL!"



Battered! You'll have to get up.
each of us has their own share,
each with many times to glare,
don't give up when stripped and bare,
neither should you settle for less,
it's in your nature to stand out.

"Sometimes in life you feel the fight is over,
and it seems as though the writings on the wall,
Superstar you finally made it,
But once your picture becomes tainted,
It's what thy call, the rise and fall"

Skin deep

Being adorned "black" isn't a reason for alarm, 
matter of fact it's a reason to feel utmost prestige.

The different shades of skin originate from deep within, 
they call it melanin; the more of it, the merrier. 
I've seen precious vantablack being demeaned, 
decolonised, bleached, Injected, and infected,
it's a shame, maybe self pride is what they didn't teach us...? 

The origin of man is a tale told over years,
from one to another it's hard to know if it's pure. 
Some say the first pure shade was earth brown, 
I believe so for we were picked from the ground then saw; 
ayeh, as it is with the ground and it's different soils, 
each shade has a different, potency, use, and story,
so it is with us humans, each with their own purpose or relevance,
each with their own clear cut beauty as per time and area of existence.

Cross breeding, migration, weather exposure, and chemical exposure,
are some of the reasons why shade and tones vary per human.
Being ignorant, teased, selfish, and discontent bring us to feel insecure, 
this causes us to cave, "make up," feel inferior, cursed or even inhuman.

Blacks want to be white, whites want to be black, coloureds hate being coloureds, 
Black's feel inferior yet are racist towards themselves and others, 
Coloureds are racist towards themselves and feel superior than blacks,
Caucasians are racist towards everyone but themselves and claim superiority over all. 

It's a tag of war causing complexities, 
a civil and discreet war causing casualties;
ignorant victims that haven't checked the side effects. 
A new "bleached breed" that doesn't know thick melanin is perfect,
it shades and protects the skin from the atmosphere,
yet mercury in these creams cripples it and makes it queer. 

We are the way we are for a reason, 
we should appreciate it, love it, and treasure it,
for the reason behind it is skin deep,
far beyond our sometimes shallow thoughts or actions.


If you liked this post, check out the poems Afri-Ka & I's free

Negus

Niggers is a misnomer- for the black man,
used to claim superiority yet it is unlikely-
that a race is dominant or superior over another.
God is just. and there is no justification for oppression;
ayeh, it's likely that oppression is a derivative of fear,
which at the set of sun spreads into the soul and is accepted.

Some of the "Moors" are great trekkers from Africa
who innovated created and dominated the world-
with the will of turning imaginations into possibilities.
Our ancestors from the domain of Egypt depict stories,
of the immense power, ingenuity and intelligence of Negus
which also travelled through pharaoh's tyrannical hands.

Moses, a Negus saved the oppressed "mulatto Jews"
who were there on "blessed" with "knowledge"
over the rest of the world making everyone else-
numb brained and constipated by idiocy for believing-
in this fallacy that they are nothing else but great.

Power is a weapon that can be misused;
although, when one wilds power over multitudes-
will to grow, think, and learn deteriorates;
because of the hefty burden on their shoulder;
so, it can be putsch-from a belligerent leader.

Pride has a lizard skin and like porous rock
withstands prejudice from outside influence.
It's the the lack of self pride that (Negus)
have failed to deem themselves worthy of glory.





Check out the poem I's free.
In case you missed the links click
"Negus" to find out what it means,
and its origin. It's a good read. 

Wednesday, 4 May 2016

I'd rather be alone

In the prime of things,
as heat waves stream,
like flaming charcoal,
thrown by a resenting God,
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
than be caught abreast,
sun scorched crazies,
with minds heather and yon-
darting to and from desires;
like bassinets rocked back and forth.
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone.
Than succumb to pressures,
that have people hissing from ears;
because, of their yearnings,
that have them demanding-
eagerly minus earnings,
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
than put my heart out in the cold,
to be moulded and inscribed-
onto like an epitaph,
by the numb warrior hearts-
of Protesting females that lost feeling...
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
than wake up in the morn',
like a balloon with baited breath,
eager to look at and feel up my lady,
yet the bitch wakes up to ditch me
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
I'd rather be alone,
'Cause in the scheme of things,
man seems to have grown wings,
and has placed faith-
into the hands of hopeless whims.

So la creme de la creme pour mes pleurs,
Or more so the silver lining for my weeping-
is to bury myself in solitude!

Saturday, 2 April 2016

Suicide.

"You're fucked up!" My friend said to my brother,
who handed him back a crooked one side smile
with a hefty drug eyed look and replied,
"I'm worse than that!"

He has been there,
not once, not twice, not thrice,
to that dreadful place that gives aid-
to those that have lost self control,
and are being remote controlled,
by false parole that replicates freedom,
and hands it to them in a pricey basket.
At the value of intoxication and indoctrination-
of persona into the chains of;
addictive worship of an idol that-
when you are idle makes you slip and lose grip of self.
Makes people point fingers,
and wickedly cast judgement for to them-
ending up in butabika; a place of serenity,
a place where the so called "crazies" be
where doctors are paid to revive your identity...
Is an abomination, a reason for your-
discrimination against the sober nation.
For after one too many shots-
of benzene and hits of nicotine,
sips of eagle and glasses of Nuvo,
that give you wings and boost your ego.
You start to exude of a being that isn't you;
a possessed being, an example-
that things can get out of hand,
and that if one is smart they can learn.
To respect what drugs and alcohol-
did and are doing to my brother.
A young man from a family so grand,
yet just like any other out there
for a problem is a problem,
whether you are rich or poor-
it treats us all without bias!

He said, "I have no control over it,
trails of cigarette buds on the road,
lead me to the same old route..."
I had never noticed buds on the road,
that's when I learnt how the mind works,
If you feed it one to many pleasures,
it magnifies their importance to your system.

And for a young man his age,
he sails the clouds ever so often,
and when it's time to come down to earth,
he sky dives and lands into pools of alcohol.

Where he keeps swimming in the deep end,
and even if the scars weigh down his heart,
even if hits from constant shots bring him down;
I tell him, I urge him,
that his soul is bullet proof,
nothing can hurt him but himself!

Ayeh still! He gives into his bodily demands,
and despite losing respect for everyone else,
he once again loses all utter respect for self,
and back tracks like a record player only-
to treat himself- his body with disregard and-
gets sucked out of his gourd and out of control....





Special shout out to Mugoda Gordons

Star crossed lovers.

For a long time,
I had been seated on my star,
masking it with a shadow-
hindering it from its shine.

She says she saw it glow,
said it sparkled through my eyes,
and glittered onto her skin,
then sunk deep into her heart...

Her eyes became ecstatic-
from the cinematic beam of my rays,
that entertained and enthralled-
her every tingling taste bud.

When I caught glimpse of her star shine,
my heart got entwined in her rays,
and all that glittered wasn't gold-
it was but my puny heart...

It had been coloured by love.
we had been gravitating the sky,
deemed out by fear of the unknown,
until our inner glows escaped...

I didn't know stars emitted heat,
it was only when she was by me,
that I felt her warm embrace;
thatch onto me like lace,

It was then that I understood love,
it was then that my heart opened,
it was then that I knew love was unbound
and that it came with no condition...

Our stars crossed,
at the end of it all-
that's all they ever did...
Now all they do is flawlessly glow.

In time, they'll explode and in joyous glory,
Glitter through the sky to tell our story. 

Don't forget.

I hate to have the brain that carries-
the grain of detail that slips my mind,
drives you wild and makes me quake-
for I hate to partake in bringing the jungle out of you...

I wish it were with intent that my mind blurs,
my memory and chooses to get ahead of me-
in causing you displeasure; ayeh, neither can I say-
it's above me for its from within me that I act-
the way I act when I cut through hurt your heart...

I can't explain why bit bit I reserve things,
in cache memory yet they should be stored-
for me to access like an ATM,
so we can be at par and carry our love like elegant fur...

It's annoying how most nights and days over-
months we spend apart, we see the same twilight,
half full and full moon but as it is with us and the moon;
we can barely lay a hand to feel each other.

The path we've taken is like a desert filled with dunes-
in which we sink- with winds that test our grip,
mirages that keep us hopeful and tumble-weeds,
that let us know we are alive and not alone,

I wish I'd get on top of things like the sky,
that holds the rain so that I'd know your pain,
even before it comes trickling and inexplicably falling-
like a dried leaf off a tree feeling abandoned.
maybe, I'd be able to stop it...

I can not tell you if we'll be okay,
I'm no doctor; although I wish I were, like you;
I'd give us a diagnosis and treat us if we were catching
or if we ever catch a case of "letting go."
But I, I am hopeful, I won't let go because I know where I want to go.

So as we walk from different ends of this dessert
to find ourselves half way at oasis,
I know the sun toasts you to crust
and grass is always greener on the other side;
but, I only ask of you one thing,

Don't be like me, don't let you memory get the best of you,
and make you forget that I love you, ever so dearly,
and like the heart in my chest that I often forget gives me breath,
I need you, I appreciate you, and I am grateful to have you in my life.