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

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??

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

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.

I Skype you

I schemed through Wechat to get your number the other day,

when I dialled it Siri told me you were miles away.

At the end of the day I got to you on Skype;
but couldn't feel you, I could only hear your hype.

Ever since we logged into love and went online,
I've been feeling addicted, I can barely cut the phone line.

I'd love to see you laugh and curve out a smile on your face,
but all I get for sharing meme's is LOL's and a smiley face.

I always want to check up on you to find out whatsapp,
but when you don't feel like chatting all you give me is a thumbs up.

I like to ask you random stuff like you're an encyclopedia,
It often distresses you you say I should ask Quora or Wikipedia.

I miss the days when together we'd chill and hear birds tweet.
it's obvious now all I do when I'm lonely is hash tag and Tweet.

In my moments of joy as I scream "YAHOO!"
I upload them onto Instagram yet I'd rather in real time share them with you.

Lately to cope am always zonked holding tumblur,
if you checked my page you'd find a GIF of me rolling rizla.

It pisses me off like pops ads that a phone is the only connection we've got,
yet I'd like to feel your skin's warmth turns out porn hubs my only jackpot.

I'd surely love to hear you share a heart warming story,
but all I have is these Facebook posts of fake glory.

Loving you is like trying to escape a web, it's such a trial, ask google.
humming bird will tell you our love is viral and we shouldn't be frugal.

So daily despite the cookies on my trail, I'm running from the stereo type,
of that guy who loses sight despite my history being hard to wipe.

For all we're left with is these apps-
To keep us LinkedIn and avoid mishaps.

But no matter the distance; I'll drop box to you for I Skype you.



Check out The friendship request

Mite-y feelings

I had abandoned myself in a box,
where while I larked amid darkness,
I grew an inferiority.complex..

Afraid to tear the box, such childish madness.
Yet out the box is where I could have roamed,
in a land of so much meaningful opportunity.

But I caved and quivered and felt content,
when I broke out, I looked back and felt inane.
Had I no nonchalance, I'd be insane.

The darkness I found comfort in was a hoax,
It made me believe I was loved yet lost
scampering about chasing elusive love.

She was mine, all mine and I was vain as an Alpha,
Little did I know, my brevity was for a mistress,
who all along had a beautiful chateau in Rome.

where she roamed in debauchery and lounged in Italics,
if only she knew that she had me locked me in her box,.
Maybe she'd have given me a mite of feeling to call my own.

Ubuntu

It is what it is and I am what I am;
I'm a star without you I can't be me.

Am blessed to have you like the stars to the sky.
for you keep me in vast space levitating high.

Imagine the skies, reaped and bare,
how void they'd be sans stary glare?

I need you just like you need me.
So that's what it is if we are to be...

We are threads that form clothing
hence fine pieces of crocheting.

Where my stitch without your stitch
is a stint, to this, our conjoined hitch.

A foul equation, a failed combination.
An x without a y, a bad chromosome portion.

It is what it is and we are what we are.
Am a star and you, my dear, are the sky;

Together, we are one! 

Free-Doom

Freedom larks around us yet we seek it...

It's an essential man needs to live,
despite this, many of us do not possess it.

Empires have been built-
by ridding man of it since BC.

Man was enslaved and rid of thought,
whipped to work and empires wrought.

Our forefathers, your father, my father.
have long since sought their emancipation.

Our forefathers fought tooth and nail in agony-
to unchain themselves of long standing tyranny.

They got scathed in an effort to pave freedom,
battling in clouds of gun powder and puddles of blood,

All of which has compelled me with genuine reason-
to seek our dome of serenity and freewill.

But the battle of our generation is not of weapons,
It's a fight against the severe spread of delusion.

Pseudo leaders have set loose doom upon the masses,
we are forced to believe we have freedom yet it eludes us.

We dwell within empires built on lies and avarice,
so we sacrifice helpless lambs to earn free-dumb.

Our empires shall collapse over us in times to come,
and we'll lay in the rubble of our hopeless mistakes.

"we are only free, when we have righteously freed doom."
   

OnE

What is man without woman?
      Nay! What is woman without man?

Of man's rib woman was pieced-
      intended for the essence of duality.

Completing the piece of art,
     drawn and painted to form humanity.

Where without woman,
     there would be no hue in human...

     Man has been know...
To throw thee in a piss puddle of inequality.

      Along came the shrill of feminism,
 and now the tables are turning.

      I am pleased to say;
you're nearing yourself to the 'E' in one.

     For all persons that walk this earth-
are meant to live within the confines of equity.

     Albeit, humans take advantage;
hence the battle for equality which is looming.

Yet we should live like dwellers in hives,
where we play equal roles to one-another,
and we all serve one.

A paradox of love

I am humbled by your beauty,
some of your traits are despicable.

You seem to ploy moments of joy,
then alter things and leave me void.

I am smitten by how much care,
yet bare minimum is my share.

I am baffled by your choices,
which you never come around to make.

Your thoughtfulness endears my heart.
despite being the last to cross your mind.

Your love gives me abundant serenity.
I'm burdened  by how often you anger me.

Your complaining is appalling.
I love to hear your mellow voice.

I am lonesome without you,
My days seem much better off bereft.

Our love is inscribed; "Forever."
Yet its epitaph reads; "Inevitable"

Apenyo Derrick

“Eh! Aloo, londa sabuni wo,” Pick up your soap,
the man said to me in our communal bathroom.
The words keep running round in my head,
despite surviving many years of jail time and torment.

My name is Apenyo Derrick.
I hail from a small town called Gulu
A place where rebels used to frequent and frolic;
It was home till I left, a thing I wished I didn't do.

My story starts off with cliche poverty!
I am beat down, broken, and long for money.
Its need gets me off my feet to seek
what makes me conceited yet fills me with deceit.
I start my journey acquainted to a certain group-
recommend by a friend that took a similar route.
Their mission as they called it was “Godly,”
I joined them with ludicrous naivety.

We were moved into the barracks of Luwero.
Our master was demanding like a pharreo.
We prepared daily for what he called, “special missions.”
In oblivion, we worked tooth and nail without a vision.

The mornings were always horrendous,we woke by 4.00 a.m on the dot,
unaccustomed, It was a colossal task to ask;
however, only a few of us were taken to the “spot.”

The “Spot” was in a meadow beyond the bankers.
We did as told, no matter how strange or bonkers.
One morning, just before the break of dawn,
after our routine, we did something out of the norm.
He got us marching as we chanted;
“La ilaha illAllah, Muhammadur Rasulullah.
"La ilaha illAllah, Muhammadur  Rasulullah”
On and on until we halted.Then he barked, “TAKBEER!”

Being atheist, these words were new,
I didn't know how to respond or what to do,
So I froze with a tinge of fear and waited,
one of the soldiers in the back responded;

“ALLAHU AKBAR!”

‘’TAKBEER!” he said,

“ALLAHU AKBAR!’’

We went on and on for a few moments,
back and forth like a teacher and students.
Then he briefed us;

 “Today marks your first for duty.
By days end, you will be in Juba,
You'll meet a team called Guerrilla,
Instructions will be given by their commander,
dismissed!"

So we set off and hours later we were at vantage point,
where we met the general, who was somewhat quaint.

He instructed us to board a panther bus-
which was Kampala bound on Juba highway,
plant bombs and set them to detonate,
then jump off at a particular spot.

When it was time for execution,
sweat flowed from my pores like a river,
my head grew light, I started to quiver,
minutes later I fainted and we aborted mission.

Luckily, a friend saved and carried me out.
He told me we left the passengers in awe,
wondering what all our fuss and panic was about.
Bright side was we didn't get caught for my flaw.

When I awakened,
I was locked up and naked-
in one of the cells of our barracks,
undergoing punishment on orders of the monarch.

I was whipped through day spared at night,
soldiers passed by throwing unfair banter,
I stayed there for about a fortnight,
banking on God's mercy and meagre water.

I grew weary each day, I turned into debris.
I was finally released and back to routine.
The commander swore he would break me,
as if while in the cell I was imbibing on protein.

I had grown zonked of it all,
It was not what I had signed up for.
But there was no way out of the froth.
So I hang onto my thread and carried forth.

When I was m.i.a they had a mission to Tanzania,
they told me how they went head on with death,
dodged it by whisker and were dealing with insomnia,
I told them to rejoice, for at least, they still had breath.

Then came the actual D-Day,
one of those I remember like it was yesterday.
It came a few days after my awful torment,
at least I had overcome what we underwent.

We woke up at the usual time,
then gathered at the spot for briefing.
“TAKBEER,” he started us off.

 “ALLAHU AKBAR,"

“TAKBEER,”

"ALLAHU AKBAR”

“Today you will be sent off to Kenya”
The Pharaoh spoke.
“You will get to the city centre and by 3 pm
you will be transported to forest mall.
When you get there I expect you-
to coup its control centre...
If need be, kill!
Once you have gained control,
make demands then contact me.
If all fails, You'll be strapped with bombs
and for failure, blow the building down.
Dismissed!”

The repercussions for failure perplexed us,
hours later we were in downtown Kenya,
for what seemed like the expiry of our tenure.
We prepared and bombs were strapped onto us,
then we set off to forest mall to chase death.

Once the door of our black van was opened,
We run to the gate as the van skid off.
We took out the officers that had us cornered,
then the mission officially kicked off.

When we reached the receptionist,
we toyed with her like a ventriloquist.
We asked her to comply or die,
when she saw our guns she didn't ask why.

we made sure the whole building was secured,
a renegade on each corner of the mall.
We made demands and ransom was assured.
Minutes later we received the Pharaoh's call.
“When they hand you the bags," he said
"there's a chopper on the pad to fly them to Mombasa."
I realised something fishy was going on.

The bags came and I called Imran, his errand boy.
Minutes later, the police was deployed,
the bad whiff was a sign, it was a ploy,
For as his bags flew off, in came a military convoy.

When the first solider jumped out,
we didn't allow them to camp out.
But their number grew even faster.
One of our men started to quiver,
dropped his gun and decided to split.
He got hit, we knew it a reckless feat.
So he detonated his bomb-
the left wing went into tatters...

our number dwindled by the minute,
most of our armour got finished,
then the right wing collapsed,
another renegade had lapsed.

I weighed out and called for ceasefire;
But, most had decided their way to retire.
The bombs went off and flames rose,
rubble buried them, the fired was hosed.

I run out with hands up but took a hit to my chest,
thing's got blurry I don't remember the rest.
I got life sentence, treatment was a supplement.
I ended up in a prison called kyankwanzi,
Where I ended up playing as Britney,
for famished mates that had opted for sodomy. 

The devil's workshop

Meet Dave, a car dealer;
a serpent from idle wood.

After a long day’s work,
It’s time for him to close shop.
but evil deeds call him to slop,
as he waits for night to set in.

Once he gets idle,
a pretty young thing passes by,
igniting the works of the devil-
he stops her and lays out credentials.

His wife, a nymphomaniac by night,
awaits him eagerly to come back home,
despite waning in self control.

Dave's distracted by his new catch
a loose cannon; a devils advocates,
who now plays apprentice, 
to him as he probes and bates.

Up goes his roller door,
he drools like a starving dog-
as she saunters past him...

He shuts the roller door,
switches on the lights,
the cars inside galore.
his works inspire awe...

While his wife at home- 
burning with desire, 
fights sleazy thoughts,

he idolises a sultry woman;
a temptress to those in fame,
and banker to those that adore her.

They get in the zone and cosy, 
she shoves him onto the sofa.
slips right onto him like a loafer,
he slides her slit aside and has his way.

Their lips engage in strange conversation,
the temperature in the room rises-
as his hands waltz beneath her dress.
they go at it till they both undress.

As they dine on forbidden fruit,
his wife longs to taste its juice.
A knock on the door triggers her excitement,
to her dismay, it's the delivery boy.

A handsome young male,
who had always made her weak
like an aroma to a starving tummy.
This time she intended to eat.

He walked passed her in his tight shirt,
patches of sweat down his back.
he was beyond  irresistible,
she decided to play smart.

She started off with small talk,
complimenting him on his walk,
then sat atop the kitchen counter.
She wore patras that revealed her.

She called him to come closer,
wrapped her legs around him,
he hesitated, she teased him,
he got caught in her trap.

Her husband had called it a wrap,
he closed shop and handed her gwap,
dropped her off and then set off
to make his way to Idlewood.

His wife was engaged.
First into conversation,
then into luring her bate-
to get her horns decapitated.

The delivery boy failed to resist,
so he played it by advantage,
after-all he kept sexual scores,
so he cut and ate his cake.

Dave, now in Idlewood manoeuvres home,
the gate slides open, he drives in and parks.
He notices the delivery boy’s van in the lawn,
wonders why the boy's not out in the field.

The two miscreants captive in sin,
as they soar close to satisfaction,
ears blocked from distraction-
fail to hear him walk in,

Dave swings open the kitchen door,
he's struck by sexual galore.



"An idle mind;
is an arena for games.
It brings an opponent,
that sells you whims." Ebrahim

Check out Moon and it's friends

First Class Transgressions

“Flight number EK729, is now boarding"
The speaker box sent dispatch.
While in terminal 3,
Aldrige’s was caught in a dilemma,
He had to chose between beauty and duty.

Her ticket read: business class.
clearly she was out of his league,
But using her distress he made a pass,
and broke open her invisible siege.

He got caught up in her beauty,
her red lips that sang kiss me,
her black dress screaming hold me,
and her cheetah print shoes saying catch me.

They got into conversation,
he flattered her every portion.
She got sprung, he got hung.
They sealed it all with a meal and a kiss,

"Last call for flight BA246 to London,”
She jolted up shocked by the announcement,
panic set in and Aldrige too remembered,
his wife awaited him at departure gate...

A hug and another kiss sealed goodbye.
'Moments like these never come by,'
He thought to himself as he rushed to the gate.
Once he reached, the gates were closed,
and no amount of kisses could open them.

He had missed his flight, and couldn't find his wife
“Sir, please go to the transfer counter,” said the man in a red blazer.

He made his way to the transfer desk,
hoping to sort out his query. Upon reaching,
he found his mystery girl making an inquiry,
a big wig so a few words got her to the V.I.P gate.

She dashed right away, he had a fine to pay.
She didn't bid him so long, a flying kiss would have sufficed,
ayeh not even a glance was cast- he cursed playing part,

Change Ila!

“Hoi! Change ila!”
The bartender barks at Javeed from the counter.
Who's struggling to leave the bar-
having left his days pay with the owner..

Back at home:
His children cry in their sty,
keeping his wife drenched in agony.
For they have no food,
and long to sleep but await Javeed.

The lights are out for the night,
heat has reached its peak
mosquitoes have dinner, their plight is hunger;
an ordinary night in their broken home.

Javeed stumbles along the road,
clenching his 8 PM bottle
trying to out run his shadow
until he finds his way home.

“Where have you been you lousy fool?”
She questions him as he drools.
He falls back and sleeps in vomit,
his wife tries to get him onto his feet,
the children shudder and panic.

She fails to get him to stand,
she's disgusted by what fate's dealt her.
She throws him a couple of slaps,
leaves him outside and throws him a kurta.

The morning after:
He wakes up by the patio,
Covered by her wee kurta,
under an overcasting tree shadow.

He is angered by her pre-caution,
So he rages in with intent to revenge,
having forgotten all he did the night before,
he finds her busy doing chores.

He pulls her to her heels,
showers her in chills
then smacks her face,
and shoves her to the wall in fast pace.
He spits to the ground in distaste,
lets go and trots to his workplace.

When he comes home that night,
in a similar state under waning moonlight.
His wife docks behind the door like a mouse,
waiting on him for a moment to strike.
When the gap is bridged to her liking,
she barks and asks him to take a hike,
but he too is ready to put up a fight;
Nonetheless, unable to participate.

 He rushes towards her to shove her,
she pulls out a pan and strikes him.
knocks him out and lets him sleep with mice...

His sagas go on and on,
He shames and provokes her day in-day out
ruining his family and arousing change.

Then one morning,
when he slams the door to barge in,
It swings wide open and to his dismay,
He finds the house empty and in disarray,
and a small note atop their only table
that definitely strikes a chord. It read;
“Change ila!”

Haja Ya Mapinduzi

In a local bar somewhere in Nairobi:
“I’m bullet proof, nothing to lose,
Fire away, Fire away.
Ricochet, you take your aim,
Fire away, Fire away,
You shoot me down, but I won’t fall.
I am titanium.
You shoot me down, but I won’t fall.
I am titanium…”

As Edward (A gay activist)
having been denied the right to
marriage preaches to his fellow
mates amid background music.

“This regime is preposterous!”
He says in an assertive voice.
“They are treating us like lost
puppies and kicking us to the curb,
But not anymore….
So many times we have sought love
but lost it. And now having found it,
they won’t let us seal it.
Tomorrow shall be the day
we put a lid on this and earn what we
deserve.” He says.
“We shall match along the parliamentary
boulevard, baring in hand our message on
placards and demand a shuffle of their cards.
And if there be need to fight against these
bastards, we shall wage war on them!”
Break open their high gates,
and coerce them to heed to our cause,
and we shan't take no for an answer-
we shall preach to the non-believers,


THE D-DAY:
Baring in hand placards as planned,
they strolled down parliamentary boulevard,
protesting with voices at the fore of there rally
“ Tunataka mabadiliko!
“Tunataka mabadiliko!”
[Their voices raised eve higher]
“TUNATAKA MABADILIKO!”
“TUNATAKA MABADILIKO!”
“TUNATAKA MABADILIKO!”

They wailed and wailed until the police
rover came in,
then a press van minutes later.
The police rover announced;
“please leave the premises and attend
this on a sit down, otherwise further
measures will be taken.”

But they persisted and kept wailing…

On news 9 that night, the reporter read to the masses,

"Wanaharakati waliakamatwa
kati ka maandamano.
After having been warned,
The activists were eventually waned,
The rover turned up by the parliament,
Thereon the activists were collectively beat down,
and some of them onto trucks were thrown.
Bringing to an end their protest.
Wanaharakati waliakamatwa
kati ka maandamano!"

Reckless love

(Day 3)
4:00am
“Get out or I’ll stab you like a thug” He said,
while holding a knife to her.

(Day 1)
1:00am:
Drugs and alcohol induced desire,
and a sweet ol' pair made love without a care.
Johnny rode his curvy horsy,
spanking it and speaking naughty...

After climax it was time sit back and relax,
Chit chat and pour back a can from a six pack.
But tipsy Johnny started to get a tad horny,
He wanted more, she was tired, he got haughty

11:00am

He woke and realised she had gone. He knew he had done something wrong.
 'I wonder what I said that made her storm off', he pondered
In a text message later in the day after millions of missed calls, he wrote,
"baby 4gve me if I sed samthin to offend ya
but I'm no strangya, I've been here for ya
Wud u rather dnce wth a mask'd Lucifa?"

(Day 2)
1:00am:
The next morning, he set out to find her.
He figured she would do something regrettable.
Throwing their relationship into the inevitable.

[Ding-Dong]
He rings the bell to her place, and after an excruciating wait,
A stout man with plenty of weight opens the door to his fate.
Then Angel dressed down, follows.

Seeing her in her under garments left him without no words to lament,
He turned around and walked away.

On his way home, raving his engine in rage, he pondered,
'I can’t believe her she’s gone for a day and still needs a quick fix.
I should have fixed her and her stout champ!
maybe I'm being selfish, maybe I pushed her...
I pushed her to slip and side onto him over night?'

(Day 3)
4.00am:
A knock on the door wakes him and he slugs to open
before him, Angel carried frustration with her,
she had come to give it to him yet he was hangover,
His head was pounding he had been drinking Teachers,
then she started to rant...

“Why’d you walk off?” She asks as she follows him to the kitchen

“Huh," He turned and looked at her confused and said, "Were you getting a massage??”

“You don’t know what you put me through, do you?" she said to his back.
"Then you go ahead and think am out to get laid?”

"How would I know, I wasn't the one strolling naked in an apartment with a stranger."

"First of all he's not a stranger,"

"Are you listening to yourself right now?" he asked.

"No, but listen to me," she said. pulling at his shoulder.
"You can't go around hurting people's feelings like you're some kind of God.

He was getting infuriated but she kept spiting him

“I want to work things out but I can't take my mind off what you said.
How dare you call me a whore? HOW DARE YOU?
I must mean nothing to you, It’s no wonder you don't respect me"

"Stop right there!" He cuts her short: holding a table knife mid air
“First off, You’re a whore! You lie like it earns you money,
then you have the audacity, to come here and question me, honey,
Get out of my house! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!
Get out or I’ll stub you like a thug, GET OUT!”

She reaches out for him, kisses him deep and he drops the knife...

Tears on the mic.

He grasps his mic and braces himself
the curtain rises, the spotlight shines,
He walks into it timid but firm and sings:

“I knew I loved you from the start,
you were meant to be my girl,
but until the very end,
we were meant to play pretend…”

The second spotlight queues her in.
Standing an arms distance away
and with panache she sings:

“You just had to love another,
and you left me mad and blue.
Counting stars in solitude,
In the crispy twilight moon,
All alone no one to hold,
All alone no one to hold”

 “You knew I had to move on," He sings
I didn't mean to be cold,
I thought all we did was play pretend.
 The truth is our love will not fade...”

Together; “ The truth is our love will
not fade, so hold on...

He walks to her as the lights dim,
he holds her hand and swoons her,

“I remember back in high school,
You were smart and sexy so cool.
knew I loved you but you had to you
Go ahead and leave another
he crescendos and then fades...

The sound of the piano wanes,
and its tempo gently slows..
She attempts to sing,

“ the truth is out love will not fade
 And I hope, I hoooope,
I will love you 'til, the very end…”

The timbre of her tone cracks,
Her voice turns into sobs.
tears drop onto the mic
Then she runs off the stage,
the crowd sighs in remorse.

He follows her to the back
Walks up to her and asks,
“What happened back there?”

She breaks down but tries to speak,

“I love you...
Each night that day unfolds,
All I long for is your embrace
for these nights are way too cold.
But all we are is just friends.

So, all I can do is pretend,
Like i don't feel butterflies.
When you hold my hand and pry,
I try, to pretend i do not levitate,
when you hug me yet it takes me to the sky.
Then all it does is make me hate you”

Table for Three

The table was laid,
The couple took its seats,
and when push came to shove-
vanity won and he called it quits.

Bereft, she too abandoned,
but was greatly astounded-
could barely keep it knit,
she was torn to bits.

Along came a suave fellow,
young, wild but respectable,
dedicated to lure her back to the table,
and make her blue world a tad yellow.

She prepped and packed her bags,
carried her baggage along for their date,
stirring their date with the wrong recipe - tempting fate-
things turned sour when the cat was dragged out the bag.

They were at it feasting on desert,
spooning the cream and eating tart.
It was orgasmic satisfaction till reality set in,
the door bell clinked and third wheel walked in...

Hand holding a wood like spatula charging to kill,
someone had to eat the dirt for enjoying his thrill,
she was baffled as she watched them scuffle,
the table was flipped off its feet amid the tussle.

He struck hard with the spatula,
then swung fast with a left jab,
then he bear hugged like a night dub-
he was knocked out but didn't spill blood...

She dashed past them and into the night,
the fight clocked out they had to cooperate-
to from a search party, it was only right...
for they started it, they reeled in the bate.

A childhood song

The deafening sound of bullets-
woke us as it always did in our little town.
I was cuddled right by my mother,
Consumed by teeth shuttering fear.

“Mother,” I said.
“Sing to me that song of fear”
I lay by her side to feel less afraid...
Whenever she'd sing, she'd hug me,
tight enough for me to feel her heart beat,
then she'd wipe the tears off my cheeks.
.
“Although fear is prone to grow,"
She sang,
"Each day we live to row,
will bring us peace and courage,
and guide us through the passage of raging storms”

“Although fear is prone to grow,
and sometimes it won't let go..."
A loud bang on the door startled us,
she stopped and I quickly wiped my tears

“OPEN THE DOOR!”
The renegade barked.
He struck open the door,
pushed forth in full force
clenching a gun in his hands.

When we tried to run out
the gun pelted bullets from hell,
and in frustration he let out a yell;
“GET ON THE FLOOR OR I'LL SHOOT TO KILL!”

 We lay flat like dead carcass.
In celebration, he fired rounds to the ceiling,
walked up to us and struck my mother atop!
She rolled to the side then a bullet ended her life.

I wailed and wailed,
I tried to reach for him,
he hoofed me back to the ground,
I succumbed and lost speech,
I curled up on the floor,
watched him as he lit his cigarette,
he let out a gust of smoke then strolled out,

“Although fear is prone to grow,
Each day we live to row,
will bring us peace and courage.
and guide us through the passage of raging storms...
Although fear is prone to grow,
and sometimes it won't let go,
I shall catch you when you fall
I'll be your breaker when the wind starts to blow,
I'll be your breaker when the wind starts to blow,
I'll be your breaker when the wind starts to blow,
I'll be your breaker when the wind starts to blow,
I'll be your breaker when the wind starts to blow..."

War Fare

An assemblage of soldiers stand outside their captains bank,
He walks out, grey haired, mug faced but calm, and stands at ease to speak...

 "I have watched you evolve and grow
accustomed to the harsh scent of gun powder in the air,
It often worries me. But tomorrow, more than ever,
You prove yourselves worthy of life."


"FIIIRRRREEE!"
A command yelled beyond their barricade woke them,

Serge run to the barricade and braced them,
“Beyond this barricade is a cage,
all I ask of you today, is to break free...
CHAAARGE!"

they manoeuvred past the barricade
In the shadows of abandoned forest.
Bullets made friends with enemies,
Bombs deafened ears many men died.
But Serge charged on like an alpha,
treading over ponds of blood and corpse,
till a bullet bound struck him to the chest.

weeks later...

[KNOCK, KNOCK]
serge’s father, old and frail plodded to the door and opened.
His wife by his side oozed of worry as the trooper stood before them .

The trooper avoided awkward  silence and delivered his message,

"Jerry Sevens fought his last fight.
He led our troop into a winning battle.
It is sad to report that he was shot and severely injured.
We would like you to sign these papers of his release,
and come with us to the hospital, He awaits you. "

Ghost

Aldrige entered the room;
An Adele tune was playing in the background reporting heart break news,
with her on, he knew how this night was going to play out,
they'd be no fore play and harsh words were to be weighed out.

Caslanthia incited by Adele paid no attention to him.
she thought to herself; 'oh gosh! Here-we-go!' and took a deep breath...

Aldrige dressed down to his boxers paused a question;
“You seem tense, is something wrong?”

“NOTHING!” Caslanthia said.

“then why are you raising your voice?” Aldrige struck a bell with his response.

 “You just had to… Go from nothing to
something." Caslanthia said,
"Acting up? Why'd you always stir me up?
It's like I'm some kind of dough to you!
What TIME is it?" She asked, "where have you been?"
she walked up to him and shoved him then gibbered,
"You always say SHIT and never live up to it!"

[Silence]

“TYPICAL," she said, "Ghost silence, you can’t even get physical!”

"Oh now you want me to fight? asked Aldrige...

“There you go again trying to put this on a peg...” She said

"Well there you go again trying to trigger me..." Aldrige walked out of the room.

"I just want you to show me that you can still feel, that you're still human.. " She whispered....

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder... (Postscript 4 Ghost)

After an up roar, Aldrige gets back home and she’s gone.


A heap of contempt rains over Aldrige,
The one he loves gone with the wind,
remnants only shreds of memories.
Albeit his heart torn apart,
he hangs onto the strands on his shoulders
that support him like a puppet,
Weak, motionless and inglorious.
Vexed by his polygamous nature,
He beats himself up.
for being the Apex of his troubles.

“Caslanthia my lady,” He cries
to himself like a ventriloquist.
“Bring back joy, bring back life,
bring back memories I long to relive.
Misguided by poor choice, I let you stroll
out our humble abode and here I drench in
the filth of my decisions.”

The mutilating thoughts that jog
through his mind do him no good
and his body quivers with desire to have
her near, but forever he will
weep for he did not play for keeps.

Sentiments of a HeArt

I'm seated wondering how to fill up the gap in my portrait,
                          but the thoughts are condescending into errors.
I can’t quite have my portrait without my other half;
                         it’s like monalisa without her queer smile…
I could add tear drops down the skin of my cheek bones,
                         but am not sure I want my portrait full of sorrow.
I've been contemplating thoughts of complete eras-al ,
                         but like the thoughts, it’s a dying proposal.
I once had the perfect portrait, tatted in a beautiful hue.
                          Its beauty was the non-fading paint conjoined.
Love is like a cluster of artistically mixed colours.
                          The permanent colours never fade away…

My heart, it grows weary.
for I can’t understand the feelings brought forth by the missing piece.
I remember each part that was bright;
from her glowing smile, to the shine of her bright beautiful body.
She was my better half;
more like the half that was missing for my completion.
It’s now clear about my missing rib;
for with her, I felt pieced together, a whole of sorts.
I would surely like to tear,
ayeh, sometimes tears are a waving sign of an awful goodbye.
My heart pushed her away,
but I hope my undying sentiments keep her on our canvas. 

A morning in India

Today, I battled the morning yawn
and feasted my eyes on the ambience
of the morning sun. It's amazing all the
things I have missed in my layers and layers
of sleep. But today, I witnessed something different;
It's rather good to know how many people
battle with sleep in the morning. At least
now I know we make a team. From the multiples of
stray dogs to the man that drove passed us
attempting to yawn and brush each single tooth
in his mouth with a stick for a tooth brush,
the dozing driver that almost knocked the edge
of my scooter. Then, the prize winner; You would
never believe it, but, as I drove passed through the
service road with an MRP wine shop to its side.
I happened to see two fellows, patiently waiting
for the keeper to open and bless them with their dew.
At least, the morning service was packed to the bream
as I dropped off another special entry... 
A morning in India. 

Blue :(

A colour of the sky,

a colour of the sea.

It's beautiful you see,

but wonder befalls

the tranquillity within...

For man lives-

encapsulated by blue sky  

sans serenity at heart, 

and the breed that

lives beneath sea, 

is also at war like we.

Nature survives off nature,

for that reason I wonder... 

was man born to be blue? 

The Artist

  If I were a florist,
the problems that prick and distress you,
I'd clip and nip them,.

  If I were a painter,
I'd 3-D paint your worries,
so all you'd have to do is look at them.

 If I were a photographer,
I'd go through hell to get you,
a Polaroid picture of the Pearly gates God abreast.

  If I were an astronaut,
I'd bring you the moon, defy the norms
so we'd never have to go there for me to prove my love

  If I were a Librarian,
you'd be my favourite book,
I'd read only you in a room full of jealous books

  If I were engineer,
I'd build you a locomotive to take you to the Bermuda-
triangle, so like Columbus you would "discover"

  If i were God,
I would give you my magic wand,
and the whole world would be in your hand

Ayeh, I am only a poet,
a medley of the above;
An artist; a replica of the creator.

Lovers' warfare

Two lovers exchange x's and O's...

What starts off peaceful,
erupts into a dispute,
cuddles gets burned,
arm-locks waned,

Back to back,
it's now time to stretch sheets,
and as she pulls on the edges,
he ends up in the cold,

Reaches out for the duvet,
a kitchen he'd rather abscond-
so he reaches in for a kiss,
to persuade his enemy,

She loosens the sheet,
his strategy successful.
peace talks unravel,
apologies assemble,
pillows lock together.
safety lock is turned on.

Kisses fly though the air.
cuddles now warranted.
arm-locks on maybe.
the heat; unbearable.

Conversation opened;
words misused,
tempers unearthed.
Once again,
it's back to back;
in this a.m sack-

Where lovers war fare never seizes.

All I hope to be

There's an infinite space of love and hate between us,
I'd like collide with the molecules so they can explode
give room for us to bridge the gap and delve in that space.

Love is a choice, one we decide upon after feasting our eyes,
inciting our minds and then dosing our hearts with desire,
from which we move past heat to let our souls find peace.

We often loathe the ones we love it's a paradox lovers unlock,
but if you love someone enough you out to tough out than tap out
for it's not them you hate but some traits that bate your temper.

That's why lovers come to terms so I'd like to draft a contract,
where none of us are condemned for going contra to popular belief.
For love comes dwindling like leaves and you never know when it'll leave.

I wish we didn't have to speak 'cause speech is often misleading,
I'd rather interpret the braille of your body to tell when you're famished,
either sexually, mentally, physically, I am fluent but you love to talk so,

I'd like to fine dine in conversation before consummation,
See there's many lies I can tell you for me to slide aside,
your panties to dive where the least of my bounty lies

See love is war, I'm a commander, I feast on enemy territory,
but the leader in me despite seeking glory prefers to use democracy.
To negotiate and come to terms where you and I can dwell in peace.

I'd like to bedazzle you with jewels but jewels are for fools,
I'm sure you know that, you're an intelligent woman so let me,
corrupt your heart and mind with the beauty of fond memories,

Treasures you hold onto that might fade but can't be stolen,
Pleasures that please you when I am long gone and forgotten,
Ayeh whether I'm forgotten or not I'll leave a piece of me begotten,

I want to be a better man than I should be, could be, use to be
'cause all those clauses are nothing but if, buts, and maybe's,
and maybe that's above me but isn't it good that you inspire me? 

Touch wood!

The good God up above-

has granted us bountiful love,

with which we've made merry,

and many have tied knots in its sanctuary.

In guise, many use it to improvise; 

to masquerade as lonely souls seeking love's fortitude,

so they cheat, manipulate, persuade and tell lies,

abusing it instead of paying gratitude.

Yet still, God has given to us like ardent parents,

who have the right to but don’t treat us like tenants.

It's disgraceful how we counteract His Goodwill,

as we stir up debauchery exercising our freewill,

Love letter

Dear love,
            I have written to you many a day but you must be busy.
First off;
I would like to commend you on helping me fall head first over and over again, It was worth the ride downhill; ayeh, at the end of the journey I seemed somewhat surprised by the pain in return.
Second;
May times I have tried to understand you but all in vain despite persistent effort. So I would like you to send me a users manual to get me through the basics of getting to know you a tad more.
Third;
I talked to cupid recently and he said he wanted to quit.
I wonder how you’re going to administer in coming times? I am sorry to be delivering this information to you but he said you have recently been out of your gourd and have often sent him to wrong clients.  Many of whom have averted to administering hate.
Fourth;
A message from one of your patients;
love, sir/madam J
Unfortunate for you, fortunate for me that I have been able to consummate without your help. On that note, I will no longer require your services. If you please, forgive me for inciting hatred. Many of my ex-partners(dissatisfied clients) distressed and bewildered have let me go for my unruly behaviour. Nonetheless, I am feeling orgasmic! 
                                            Your dear friend, Casanova.
Fifth and last;
It is high time you got off your feet and talked to these people that are getting betrothed without your consent. It is because of these people that words like; Bitch, gold digger, broke nigger, stupid nigger, white trash whore, white tramp, little Chinese faggot, divorce and many other words of the like.(Excuse my French) Have become quite common within the world. So please, come in quick and rinse out all these dirty mouths that are larking around the world.
Thank you,                                                                               
Anonymous.

Dead shot!

I can't lie,
the heat down here is dreadful!
And I can't  get another shot to live.

I remember;
my mother always told me I was such a kicker.
I only wish I saw the signs of that picture.
I neglected it and carried on serving hate like a pitcher.
I hated life, I hated love, I hated mankind, I was bitter..

Always ready to attack like those mindless "animals".
I bullied little children and skewed their peace,
I got into fights, I stole, abused and loved at lease.
I murdered the frail, and killed innocent creatures
I was a disgrace as I lived and now, hell's member.

It turns out, there's beauty everywhere...

It was a Saturday with skies sans birds,
as I basked in ambience of joyous emotion.
til a wrecking ball swung toward me,
I run for my life but hell had less fury.

Once struck, my weary body collapsed,
and my heart under rubble started to wither.
I was sealed off  with yellow tape,
burdened by regret but it was too late...

For many days I lay there devastated,
til an engineer came my way-
fancied the remains of my abode,
shovelled rubble over my heart,

wrenched it but it put up resistance-
it flickered with hope but was hesitant,
and in effort to get it to work that instant.
it caved even more upon persistence,

My pessimistic mind and weary body
scorned my fractured heart as it got nursed.
It started to beat, something felt right,
it was a feeling I could no longer fight.

Flickers were a sign of hope,
pessimism was a sign of fear,
they say think with your mind not heart,
had I thought with my mind I'd still be broken.

Had I not clung onto hope I'd be reckless,
Now I'm pieced with peace I'm whole again...
No matter how broken you are,
there'll always be someone to fix you...

Castle of sunshine

One day we'll reach silver lining and rest,
 Nimbus in which we've wept,

will be swept and start to fade...

Fade away beyond our backs

leaving scars as remnants

of our lives in chains.

We will levitate clear sky,

nonchalant like astronauts.

 sweet sounds of victory-

 atop our thoughts,

days of tyranny past us.

Castle of sunshine

Check out paradoxical hope

Sweet Heaven

Life is a stretch of endless doors,
running side by side for miles.
We are inquisitive travellers, 
entering doors to discover.  

I have opened many doors, 
some of which upon entry-
exposed my many flaws,
fears, and worries.

Some have revealed my interests,
some have led me into darkness,
some have taught profound lessons,
but none guided me to my purpose.

Then I found this one door slightly ajar,
a light peeked through so it made me wonder,
ayeh, I was hesitant to walk in yet curious,
then a strong wind swung open the door,

I caved and when I turned to look up; 
a shimmering light blinded me for a moment.
It faded away and I saw a moving walkway,
I placed my feet on it and conveyed forward.

It was all paper white until I lit a thought,
my imagination appeared, I felt like a god,
nature sprouted from the floor I didn't have to draw,
the atmosphere was olive-green until I thought of war.

I saw walking corpses manipulated by demagogues,
it was then that I realised I had the power,
to manipulate my thoughts and influence the world,
to tap into my source and script a better world.
I entered a haven where I could look forward to tomorrow,
Poetry, my sweet heaven, gave me a way to obliterate sorrow.

Why do we keep gong at it?

Could it be that love is an ocean?

and we're clashing waves riding high and low,
so some days we are still,
others we get aggravated then shrill,
as we swish and swash 

 'cause it's no longer a thrill,

its inconsistent motion has made us love sick.

Could it be that love is war?

and we're engaging in friendly fire

raising emotional barricades to shield our hearts,
from verbal and non verbal bullets

whose triggers are pulled by our partners
having failed to solve matters in diplomatic manners.

Could it be that love is a game?
Where we are competitors,
and in this Colosseum,
we fail to fathom the reality

that we are a team,

and that to go past whats grim,
we need to pass it.

to end the score that’s putting us at war.

Pieces of love

love is a worship place;

some run to it for joy,

others seek it for peace,

while some seek forgiveness.

love is a battlefield!

Fight for it and you will unite.

fight as a team and enjoy its perks.

fight against it, hate will consume you.

love is abstract art,

treasure its value it'll display in your heart.

stroke its plush nature against the- 

walls of your heart and the outcome, 

will leave the world envious of your work.

love is undeniable to the heart.

Fight it, it will fight right back.

resist it, your shield will grow weary. 

embrace it, and it'll will be yours to keep. 

Life is strange

Life is strange, it contains much beauty, 
and in its colour dwells beasts to juxtapose.

It has music of different genres and roles, 
from the nonchalance of soul-
to the rowdiness of rock n roll.

Love that burns a phoenix flame,
some get burned and relinquish it, 
others seek its warmth and cherish it. 

Joy that takes on multiple forms,
from narcissistic demagogues that revel in anarchy,
to helpless hippies that frolic in a world of iniquity

Nature that flourishes off of itself, 
rain feeds seeds and a rainbow forms when it leaves, 
seeds sprout into trees and the ground feeds off leaves.

Religion that has bewildered man,
from the idol worshippers ridiculed by Abrahimic followers, 
to Buddhists that pay no mind to scrimmage of blasphemers.

And of earnest men;
dwells those gliding over cascading luxury
while some tumble down a dark pit of penury. 

life is strange, it's a mishmash of isms,
in which the diabolic and uptopic worlds co-exist.

Die another day.

My body trembled like an weary pole in a winter storm. I reached out for my pocket leaving trails of sweat and pulled out a crumbled box. At that moment, it was either my superman or grim reaper.
I spread open its wings to access what I hoped would be left in it. I took a glance inside the small box of cherry cigarettes, for a second it looked empty- my heart stuttered.
I quickly stashed the last one into my mouth placing it firmly between the clenching hold of what was left of my black lips. I then reached out for my other pocket to pull out a purple lighter that was halfway empty and the words,” only chain smokers carry around fire,” rung through my head.
I questioned what had I become. The thought blurred after I remembered I had to quench my undying thirst. I thrust the lighter with my succulent thumb and like Caveman I sparked a fire.
It formed up from the small hole of the purple lighter and I lit the edge of my firework. The first pull of death strangled my throat with an ice cold sting, and it went down to my decaying lungs.
The edge of my cigarette crumbled down to the floor in a simultaneous sequence. . I burnt down the spire to its foundation and the building, my body got destroyed once again by this foreign terrorist.
My mind eased up, sweat dried as I got smothered by cigarette smoke.
My heart, after inhuman pounding- settled, and it felt like I would live to see another day…

OuT Of ThIs WoRld

"Excusez-moi, excusez moi."

She spoke her words gently

like a blue jay that sangin the hours of breaking dawn.

My words refreshing like orchestra symphonies

cried out there reason, but only to be pardoned.

and once again I attempted, 

"Je t’aime, je t’aime... Je t’aime"

"Excusez-moi, excusez moi,"

It did not grow old to my ears.

It only brought me to a point of return

and like a swirling bee, I stung her once again

"Mon nom est Aldridge," I whispered,

She giggled and I knew my venture had seen light.

"vous et moi, should start a family tree and ,

 live by the sea, in our breeze of love,

Je t’aime, je t’aime... Je t’aime,"

"Excusez-moi, excusez moi,"

It did not grow old to my ears,

and the fact that she was from Venus,
and I was from mars,

never stopped me from telling her
that she was out of this world.

"You speak the language of love," 

I told her,

"be my tutor of this beauty and,
I will scribble it all over you heart,

and the sands of our hour glass of love-
shan't run out for it will be over flooded;

Albeit, our worlds apart, 

let me take you away and cherish you.

for I have travelled many miles only to fall for you…

"Je t’aime, je t’aime… Je t’aime"




If you loved this, check out what happened after on Sans toi je serais mort

Dear father,

How do I make something from nothing?
How do I know what is right and what is wrong
yet what is wrong is before me like an open door?
Taunting "truth" through my eyes and into my mind.
What does the future hold for me?
Will I walk the streets I hope to take on? 
Will I leave the mark I hope to leave? 
Will I be just another fallen leaf of nature?
How can I see it all in my mind but fail to play it out?
What is the point of a dream when living it is but a dream?
How will I prosper yet I tethered to fear?
The gift of love, you have given to me in so many ways, 
sings to me songs of encouragement and support, 
but ambiguous scripture can only do so much.
My past has gone by like a one way train, 
Yet I yearn for the past, live in present, 
while my mind strays for the future, 
a future so bright in my mind yet uncertain.
It's a whim, a myth; a retold story in my mind.   
I only hope that when you open the doors. 
You flood us with opulence in this world of seemingly hopeless dreams, 
where we now struggle to live up to the expectations set by those fore front.
We can only turn to you for guidance and I am another one of your children,
whose sins you hate but I pray you enable me to inspire the dreams of many.

Your son.

Foul Lover

Now that it’s over and we are sober,
the blue sky has turned sombre,
it's sending its cats and dogs to come over,
at least in rain I can hide my wet cheeks.

I reminisced those long nights,
when I tried to read you,
now I understand the results,
I guess I'm not book smart.

As much as we can grow into love
there's always room for hate after love.
I don't speak in relation towards hating you,
but the feeling that I have could compare.

Never did I treat you with despair,
but you always treated me like a spare
you were reckless and it was unfair;
although, sometimes you did care.

But it reached out for you,
like a patient praying mantis,
and you left me without a pair,
will I ever be man enough?

Yet I eagerly waited on you,
I always though it half time,
but I should have played referee,
and gave you a red card for your foul love.

I don't regret the interjections,
I mean, I had my good times
despite the misconceptions,
I guess our love failed the test of time.