Heaven

All I want is to go to heaven,

Ayeh I don't have enough coins for the slot,
if only a spot could be bought.

I'd be the first buyer,
of course they'd be many bids

Although, I'd wake up early just to catch that worm,
stand in line and hope to be sucked into the portal.

Still...

Still I save coins in my little piggy box,
hoping no takes them and that charity is not a hoax

Hoping to save enough to give out to needy
hoping that it gives me clarity and enables me entry. .

you see I sought religious knowledge;
some things you just don't get from college.

For...

I need ways to take off heavens lid.
partially equipped, I still feel so stupid.

I know right from wrong;
my soul can tell them apart.

But my wrongs tear me apart!
and my good doesn't feel hefty.

So I wonder..

will I be able to lift that lid.
If only I could speak to God,

I'd have thae answer, alas the answers in my mind are a cancer;
whispers so devilish I falter in dis-ease as they spread with ease

So I am lost like a cat meandering as I purr,
Wondering far,struggling just to keep up to par.

Lost..

So lost I often forget the truth..
I forget that simple pain of an aching tooth,

Is nothing close to the flames of the uncouth,
And that to act all vain can get me into those flames.

I am just one call away from cerecloth.
after which I find out where I'll stay not only for a while

Ayeh, forever..

All I want is to go to heaven,

Yet born into this world so susceptible to sin,
I fear and feel weary in my lack of leverage.

Ken.(speaks out)

"They say Barbie's the one for me,
ayeh that's only in life that's HD.

Could we possibly be a perfect pair
all because we are slim and rare?

She, tight and knit in a top showing some cleave.
I, ripped and fit in skinny jeans with my balls trying to breath...

Perfect...!

Now every male is trying to be like me,
yet I am trapped in a body where my soul can't be..

Free.

I wish I could help you wipe your sweat,
pep talk your mind from things that make you fret.

Haaa...

Ohh this high definition life,
It can drive you mad like your wife!

Yet I am only papier mache;
there's very little I can say.

Yet everyday,
I am a sales man...

Everyday,
I sell a fake life to a man..

How grand!

My sins are many,
and to different hearts they vary.

I give you desire for money,
to buy my leather pants and jeans so skinny.

I make you chase the sweet life,
looking for Barbie, my sweet skinny honey..

Your friends deem you chubby,
I make you uncomfortable in your skin.

Now life is full of irony, I'm sorry,

For as you seek a diet to get skinny,
many die because they are hungry."
Check out Ken for the prelude poem 

KEN

Boys are being told

how to look.

All lean and mean,

like G.I. Joe machines.

How to feel,

like good is bad.

What is real,

yet perfection is a state of mind..

There- there,

wipe those beads of sweat.

You are handsome,

you are strong,

you need to know,

that Ken is wrong!

You are special,

unique.

Don’t let anyone-

critic-

your physique.

You might be skinny,

you might be fat,

heck! You might like

to wear rags,

Just don’t let anyone

change your mind.

For you are,

as you are meant to be.

Hang man

What would lead a man
to tie rope round his neck,
kick chair out-
from beneath his feet
to dangle in mid-air,
legs violently kicking
as he struggles for breathe,
'fore succumbing-
to thrashing death?

Could it be he loathes life
for grinding him to pieces?
Or is it that he feels too short,
He'd rather dangle his short legs
in mid-air till his snort of air?

Insecurity is no security,
It’s like a guard with a gun feeling fear-
he might as well shoot himself!

life is too short,
to worry about hard times,
things we can't change,
and other things of the sort,
which eventually float away like boats

I needed to breath

These many words I write,

among the poets that wrote.

are a chance for me to breath,

to emote what I truly feel.

They will be a tale of proof

about this journey that thus far,

has me feeling asphyxiated-

like I'm locked in polythene bag

I hope one day you find me

It often seems like I know nothing about you,
you're like an illusion in my life.Sometimes-
I know you, other times  you're a mystery
alas they say you can only know so much,

I have tried to discover you in many ways,
sometimes I get lost trying to find the truth
or is it that what I find is not satisfactory?
I am now lost in the things I sought.

You see your love is not a house,
It is a mirage of a home I float upon-
hoping it won't leave me homeless.
for truly we all need shelter.

I hope one day though,
You read these words so.
Maybe to find out things you did not know,
Or just to fill that one sit in my show..

Where most times there's no one watching,
the sits are empty, and lights are glistening,
as I whine and unwind trying to emote
yet its you dear who's always on my thoughts.

So these words I wrote are guides on our road.
they could mean much if you looked through,
they'll let you know where I want us to go,
they are my truth as I seek the truth,

and as I wander this meandering path,
of secrets untold and trials to overcome,
I hope one day you'll find me.
and find that I am lost as you might be.

I faltered

I faltered.

I faltered-

helped you falter.

My sin to my soul,

our sin to our souls,

we all pay for letting it in.

Who knows were we have been?

seeking sin and letting it in. 

God only knows,

For God's surveillance works round the clock.

And in the database,

we have faltered.

If only our reflections,

would help us sit and reflect

We would know that each kiss,

steals away a lifetime of bliss,

Yet it is this,

we run to for bliss.

Who knows?

It might be it,

Crossing my fingers,

we don't end up whipped..

I faltered,

helped you falter,

we joined the herd

and turned into cowards.

Now we need the Sheppard.

Love [performance piece]

love

I'm writing everyday,
trying to figure out a way
for you to stay
and for me to say;
I love you.

I'm your number one fan-
yet your not famous.
But to me, you're a star,
not a Hollywood star,
they'd step over you like tar,
watching that would hurt.
And I know you don't love me
it doesn't take a genius.
albeit it'd be opportune,
If we'd purchase love.
I'd run to your store
and ensure it sold out.

Ayeh,

I don't usually say much,
I come off as cheesy and
uneasy when I share a slice,
so I am barricaded-
yet on paper I spew,
silence is a komodo
relatively extinct in my mind
yet I sink in its lack thereof,
as I think inane thoughts,
of drawing love hearts in sand-
for you to look at.
writing notes like Coelho-
for you to look up.
But I'm no writer,
despite having written things
some said to be splendid,
but you, stay still and in silence,
stealing my shine like a bandit,
taking another piece of me,
yet still I let you have it...

Take it away, take it away,
maybe one day,
we'll walk the isle,
in a stretch of tulips,
Side by side.
In your hands peonies,
the freshest they could find
for you're the freshest I've found
and I want to preserve you,
like they do precious things,
and when this fiend of a dream,
crawls out of the dark,
with you in an actual gown,
we could seal the deal,
release our inhibitions
like we have longed to.
Then stare at the stars-
all night, like lovers do...

I'm writing everyday,
trying to figure out a way
for you to stay
and for me to say;
I love you..

So I'm looking for fans,
maybe, if I were like you,
you'd know I adore you.
Some one told I'm in too deep,
taking the highway to hell,
to a place where people lack sleep.
but I'm in it for the long run
if my legs break, then I'll crawl
for I have big dreams.
I see you and I with a baby or two-
in place so far, far away,
in a villa or chateau...

You're not my type,
you've broken my pattern,
you're  rich coffee-
in my hot water heart,
you've changed everything!
I feel like we're like poles
repelling each other,
yet the further we go
the bigger the black hole
in my heart yet who am I,
to define this ludicrous ET?

This alien feeling that came
soaring in a spaceship,
abducted and brainwashed me.
leaving me powerless sans manual
I am now obsessing over;
a possessive feeling-
I'm compulsive,
this state is demeaning.
How can you, no, how can I,
let you see past the blind spot
where I await you with open arms,
to bless you with love sacred as psalms?

I'm writing everyday,
trying to figure out a way
for you to stay
and for me to say;
I love you 

Invest in blessings.

From the skies that resurrect land with rains,
to sun that warms us and helps us harvest,
to vast water bodies that cannot cross paths,
which we utilise to revitalise and clean our bodies,

To herbs and crops that grow on our land,
to animals that protect us and provide food,
we truly are all blessed; ayeh
we should also invest in our blessings

I invest in hope, faith, and hard work,
It's hard to strive if you can't borrow from the future,
hope gives you vision, faith gives you confidence
Hard work is cumbersome but it does pay off.

I invest in prayer and patience,
We all struggle daily to achieve things,
no matter how small they might be. we all do.
Prayer is pep talk and patience brings forth reward.

I invest in friendship and commitment.
If you take time off to show affection and care,
if you're patient and seek to understand
God pays you back with true friendship,

I invest in love and family.
I give love to friends, foes, and family,
for we are all descendants off the same tree,
we uplift each other, if we are there for one another.

If we are grateful and not green in envy,
or shadowed by a canopy of pride.
or waver in belief as we struggle and strive
there's reward in investing in our blessings ..

I want it all

I am selfish-

I want love,

even if its bitter,.

You will find that past the sugar,

love is truly bitter-sweet.

I am selfish-

I want money.

even if it's evil.

You'll find that past its power-

it is a necessity in our societies.

The things I long for light up desire in my heart,

yet often deem out my inner glowing soul.

and that light helps me see past yonder,

and stay in touch with the on that guides me.

I am selfish-
at least, I know it.

I want it all,

the money, cars, 

clothes, and gold;

Ayeh, is any of it worth anything at all?

"Sir, all I want is justice!"

"Sir, all I want is justice!"

"Why do they throw stones?
Why are they punishing me?
They are the reason my dog barks."

His breath was nasty,
mine was worse.
He must have been drinking,
I hadn't yet brushed

He din't have a point to drive home.
albeit his query tested my patience,
and I eventually let him into my home,
where we talked of nothing but Rome.

Empowerment and lack of power,
acting like the Romans or acting right?
Justice and injustice, right and wrong,
peace in the here after and letting troubles be.

"they throw stones at my home,
they say my dog barks all the time.
but it only barks when attacked,
and I have done nothing to them!"

"Why do they throw stones?
Why are they punishing me?
They are the reason my dog barks."

Strangers pick and throw the stones,
to this old man's old home,
he needed to vent, he needed justice,
I had none to offer him
Only water to cool him.

"The constable came to my home,
Pulled out his lathis, the big stick.
Asked me why I spoke English,
I said it's an English speaking country."

"What can I do sir?"
He raised his hands and asked me.

'I'm only a boy-man,' I thought.
'I know I turned 22 yesterday,
But how can I help you whose 79?'
I felt pressured, I couldn't deny.

Ayeh silence kept me in the zone,
so I listened to him go on and on.

"They hit me with their lathis,
I tried to bribe them with a 100 rupees.
but they kept me in the cell,
I sweated so much and yelled.
When the rich man bribed with 200 rupees,
 they let him out the cell."

"These police men! Puh!
So corrupt! They made me suffer,
but in the end they will suffer.
God knows I have worked hard."
"What is your name? He asked."
"Ibrahim."
"Ooh! Name of a god,
all names are names for god's,
I am Hindu man, I have studied bible,
Jesus suffered so much for our sins,
his own people punished him."

"Why do these people punish me?"
Why do they want me to suffer?
I used to work so hard, and they used to pay me 100 rupees.
My wife is sick, diabetes. I need to feed my family,
these neighbour's are so bad, simply talking bad things!"

"Sir, all I want is justice!"

I am no judge,
I wished I were.
I was his neighbour,
I hoped to be among the good.

From one conversation to another,
we jumped to the moon and back,
to his childhood and transition to manhood,
as I sat and patiently listened.

"I want to study Qur'an,
Who is Ibrahim?" he asked.
"Well in the Qur'an his the father of all nations."
Luckily I was on a recent verge of completing the Qur'an.
so I gave him what I had taken time off to learn.

"I need to study the Quran and more of the bible.
I need to go and purchase." he said
I offered him my second Quran to cut his chase.
"should I pay?"
"no, no, don't worry about it."
"thank you very much, thank you,
Any doubt I'll come to you."
"Sure uncle, no problem."

I got lost in thought,
Wondering on the ways God works,
Wondering on how my housemate,
who was also on the way to open the door-
from up stairs would have handled the gentleman,
Wondering why I choose to drop-
the broom as I cleaned my room,
Yet I had just complained
of people who visit at the wrong time-
once the bell had rung.
I wondered...

My time was invested but not wasted,
My faith was tested but reinvested.
Our conversation was a questionnaire unresolved

"look at me," he said,
"I have no teeth, people always ask
why I eat slow. (he laughed)
You have to respect food,
thank God, He gives and takes."
I remembered and mentioned to him
how the Quran speaks of God
granting us life from youth
where we acquire wisdom,
and to old age where we grow-
frail and he takes it all away.

"Ibrahim, thank you, thank you, thank you..
God is everywhere, He gives and takes.
He gave me this nose to breath, eyes, ears,
(he pointed to all his features) and He is everywhere!"
"Thank you very much Ibrahim, thank you.
But,

Why do they throw stones?
Why are they punishing me?
They are the reason my dog barks."
He said it one last time..

"anyway, let it be! Thank you."

"No problem uncle, have a good day."

Down the street in slumber

"Honk! Honk!"
I tried to cross the street.
The roads were new to me,
like notes off a musical sheet.

The hooting and hollering,
second nature in this town.
The buildings and skirting-
different from my town.

I reached down the street,
and wide window frames,
encompassed big showrooms,
filled with skinny Caucasians..

A lady in a black dress,
fine as Kashmir silk,
ogled down at me
like an owl up a tree

I wondered,
if the man besides her-
was the one for her,
or if he even knew her.

I crossed the street,
buried my desires.
Ayeh my mind...
couldn't put it to sleep,

'til music started to sweep.
and knocked me off my feet
where was it coming from?
In a black block round the corner

I climbed the funnel'd stairs,
steep and cumbersome to leap,
I felt pity for the tiny girls in heels,
till they passed by saying things.

"He looks so tense,"
one of them said,
at the expense-
of my assumed dumbness,

But she lost her stance,
then tumbled down-
to the streets expanse, and
my mind did a little dance..

I reached the entrance,
stared at my self-
in the glass mirror,
and the words she spoke;
before me mirrored.

My empathy was renewed,
yet skewed a little too late,
I had no chance for me to glance-
in remorse over her failed stance.

I carried on to the first floor;
it was a music showroom,
so I stood where I could,
for it barely had room,

I caught a glimpse of the pianist,
but what caught my eye the most
was the beautiful brown artist-
her voice could make you cry...

So I stood there in awe,
till the end of my show...

Sans toi je serais mort

Tu me manques...
You're like the sound of my heart;
missing.
I can't hear it go thump thump,
I must have been robbed,
a heart transplant wouldn't fix me up.
What I need, you see,
is more than fixing..

How can I say...??
Tu me manques,

I am dry and cracked land;
unblessed.
Treasures burried within me-
must be rotting away like a carcass,
for I am infertile.
What I lack, you see,
is purpose..

How can I say...?
Tu me manques,

Docteur says my blood lacks a pump,
I am sombre, blue-black;
deadish!
My Ecg track reader is no longer bouncing,
the line is plummeting,
I wonder if hell is where I am bound.
What I need, you see;
Is life.

How can I say...?
Tu me manques,

I am dead,
the reaer gave me one last pome.
They carrying my corpse to its grave,
It is... How do you say,
Hefty.
A piece of it is somewhere pieced to you.
please come back before I am reaped of soul,
resurrect me,
for you are..
Hmmm,

How can I say...?
Tu me manques..

Sans toi je serais mort,
"But for you I would have died,"
yet away you went,
and somehow,
you took my heart,
now I lay here spent,
this is not what I meant.

Tu me manques....
J'espère vous voir bientôt

Neighbour, neighbour.

Neighbour, neighbour.

Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Why do you pour your anger over me?

When I came to to your hood,
I remember your face was dark and gloomy;
you were uninviting and and clearly in a bad mood.
I then realised this was not a place for me to act shoddy.

"What to do? what to do?"
I asked myself having no clue,
So I baked a cake for peace sake,
thinking we could dine,
ayeh that wasn't a piece of cake.

Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Why do you pour your anger over me?

You the the cake to my face,
my pastry went to waste
in an absurd yet comic place,
I turned clown filled with white paste.

Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Why do you pour your anger over me?

So I forgot about you,
lived my life like I knew how to,
played Fùr Elise like I had learned to,
all night and day as if I sought pay.

"ding-dong, ding-dong,"
I asked myself who it could be,
and by the door, who knew it would be,
you in your sneakers and well pressed pants,
here to make me sweat as you blubber and rant.

Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Why do you pour your anger over me?

You complained about noise,
your spit embraced my nose,
you whined like you sought applause
you sounded like water out a hose..

Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Why do you pour your anger over me?

You called my landlord,
unlike you, he had no anger to unload,
you wasted spit then your fit went down the pit,
so I celebrated my independence for your lack of wit.

I pulled out my stove and placed it by the back yard,
sent out my invites allowing friends to my Asgard,
and by the clock of night you stood by on guard.
When BBQ smoke rose,you turned red like a rose,
and poured water over the chef and stove.

Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Why do you pour your anger over me?

The police came over,
turned the peaking fight over,
gave us time to cause hangovers,
and again, you, the sore loser..

Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Neighbour, neighbour,
# splash!
Why do you wash your anger over me?

Your sin.

Your sin.

Do not call to account that which is not yours.

for yours is yours alone like the skin that wraps your bones.

Do not call off transgressions that you masterminded,

pointing fingers to the lot that connived and aided..

Bare in mind your burdens are yours and yours alone

and their heftiness in your left palm is caused by your naughty ways,

Don't not call to account that which is not yours,

for the books have been tallied and your are accountable-. 

For yours and only yours.

Baptise me.

Sins we bare are burdens to our feeble souls
they say our messiah died for them aboard;
a cross that symbolised the greatest sacrifice.

But verily we should owe much gratitude,
to God who sent him to rescue and save us,
for at the end of it all God chooses what should be.

Tis' your holly water I seek,
Tis' you holly water I long for
To wash my sin and loath

My eyes have aided my many crimes,
yet my will can tell right from wrong.
ayeh, still, I ogle slimming my chances.

My mental enslavement to sin burdens me,
I long to squander my blunders then slumber,
and leave behind the strife of this life.

Reign over my sin before death claims it's win,
ordain me from disdain for it eats away my din,
your holly water is what made me and cures my sin,.

Tis' your holly water I seek,
Tis'  you holly water I long for
To wash my sin and loath
So I can be baptised and cleansed;
of sin and hate within me.

The friend request

I have grown distaste
of this new found friend request,
that cuts out the thrill of the chase
stumbled upon in friendship quest.

Request sent-friendship barely the intent,
just another connection on the world wide web,
to help share and display implicit thoughts.

Our characters bent, we're voyeurs who secretly vent,
over unsaid things yet we didn't pay friendship rent;
the foundation for a friendship that already up and went.

We are acquainted by an internet link,
Ayeh far away from connection like a Wi-Fi link.
we are up all night following links,
stalking so called friends instead of telling them what we think.

We add numbers so we can whatsapp,
too scared to walk up to people and actually say wassup.
Downloading apps so we can BBM them,
yet with our eyes we can barely see through them.

Updating statuses that mislead friends,
yet when we visit the clinic to check our status,
we can barely share the truth with our friends

We check out so called friends' profiles,
to see if  we'll get along like a single file,
yet our social network friendship,
is incomplete and bound to sink like a leaking ship.



If you liked this check out the poems
Numbered and world wide web

The bearded fellow.

I used to watch you...
all intricate and placid
dressed like a mannequin .
You looked wise, acted it too,
maybe you had me fooled.

You never sat to ruminate
You were always on the go
like you needed the Lou,
But never on a grand scheme,
simply revolving go nowhere,
like a guinea on a tread mill.

You had taste like coleslaw,
yet no patience to go slow,
always getting good things,
to flaunt not treasure them,
then sell them off cheap-
to first bidder when broke,

I always thought beards
symbolised wisdom, ayeh,
you were just a wise-ass,
somewhat a wiseacre,
one that lied too much;
lies smooth as lashes

It be true that you're pious, thank God,
maybe that's why you're a bearded fellow
alas one that never pulls at them to think.
I wonder why I thought you wise?

The bearded fellow II is a good insight on this poem

Obsolescent dreams,

Obsolescent dreams

When at home,
You're at peace...

When you step into the world
You're torn into pieces.
And as you try to find your missing pieces
You fill the gaps with earthly treasures.

The world demands you to hold Samsung galaxy,
But you can barely hold the galaxy;
Its milky way is too immense for you to hold.
'I should rob a bank,' you start to think bold.

When you purchase it,
You start to chase it
When it slips through your hands.
You're scared you might break it.
When the screen cracks,

The cracks break you;
And there goes your luck,
Out of line like stray ducks.
You've run out of it,
You're no longer a star buck.

So you take a trip to the mall,
To take your mind off your phone.
Maybe you're going to bowl at the alley.
But the mall,
Another track to rally your obsolete dreams.

You pass by zara,
You're not an earner, you have nada
Yet you can barely resist the calling,
Of the recent trends that suit your dressing.
You dress fly so you need some new knitting.

Hooked up you now look decent
Alas your card's swiped out you're crying out why?
But you stunt in your new tee; nevertheless,
Thinking life is a simple cup of tea.

Until you wash it...

Sadly you forgot to read all about it,
"wash separate from colored clothes."
You'd never know, all you do is get clothed,
When it dries, it's all faded
and you think they sold you lies.

Books don't lie,
Planned obsolescence is a written down fact,
It's that "extra, extra, read all about it."

And you'll figure that your brand new shoe,
which sparks a "nigga moment" with out a clue,
Is not meant to forever stand by you.
It's just another obsolete dream sold to you

Hide and seek.

When I'm done counting,

I open my eyes and shout "MARCO",

ayeh I never here you say "polo"

so I spend years trying to find you.

When you clock one hundred,

and it's time for you to find me,

you lay trails of sweet nothings,

and I come out like tiger to prey.

Ready to give my all to you, 

yet I'm supposed to stay hidden;

I break my riot shield,

and expose all my emotion...

We play this game called; 

hide and seek were you cheat,

for you hide and I seek, 

when I hide, you don't seek.

.

Red rose.

Sent out to study in a world so guile,
Aldridge mingles and makes a new friend.
One whose lustrous stunning eyes
stole his soul when you looked too long.

His biggest weakness was loving to deep,
so he feared to settled down and have a single lover
so he moved person to person like a Casanova ,
sucking out souls like smoke from a bong.

So when he was stunned her soul made him eager,
he longed to suck her life out like a vampire.
but she's was different she became his Achilles heel,
she broke his pattern and made him change for better.

The whiff of her rose had tingled his nose,
so he had fallen for her and he committed,
she had tamed him and he had become loyal,
they were in love and it's ambience spoilt them.

In too deep things started to change,
she withdrew from him and he needed answers,
he found out she had been set up for another,
and she could not go against her father.


Bells rang, the chapel sang,
and at the back of the row he stood,
baring in hand; a bouquet of red roses,
matched with his black Tux,
making her groom look odd.

When doors swung open,
she sauntered forward,
like a dove over a rippled water.
she paused when she realised,
he was in the crowd...

When they met eye to eye,
she unveiled, dropped her peonies,
abandoned her wedding rituals,
and run into his arms to hug him.

They ran out arm by arm, ayeh,
as her red hair swayed all over the air
she felt his grasp loosen and he fell back,
he had been shot to the head by her father

He lay to rest, with his bouquet of red roses
in his right hand resting over his chest.
R.I.P Aldridge, March 18, 2014.

Al habibi

Al habibi, al habibi
we once had innocence,
'til we lost our way.
I lost mine the day we met.

Al habibi, al habibi
we're now moving at break neck speed
as I lure you in with sinful whims,
I gag myself but my mind keeps speaking

Al habibi, al habibi
I'd like to sip off your juice like wine out a chalice,
these are the things my mind says to me, I admit,
my thoughts a foul but I do try to tame myself.

Al habibi, al habibi,
haram is very sweet,
we often like to taste it;
ayeh it's cursed like swine meat,

Al habibi, al habibi,
I want this but I seek shelter,
not more reason for me to falter.
haven't you heard?

Al habibi, al habibi,
last days are nigh,
so I shan't quench my thirst,
by drowning in ecstatic lust.

Al habibi, al habibi,
God has given us shelter,
if we chose to take this further,
we should first do Nikkah!

Al habibi, al habibi,
May the almighty guide you.
for I am weak and so are you,
so together apart is what's better.

It's a shame

We walk this world blind, with eyes gazed high-
stained with piercing pride to see us to fame.

We strive to compete- creating enemies,
instead of bettering ourselves to make ends meet.

We point fingers towards others, painting them red,
instead of noting that treads of our fingers-differ.

We count numbers in class, hoping one day to stack paper,
yet paper is nature and when cut down starts to affect us.

We leave our families, trekking miles looking for frenemies,
yet our backs always stand firm and guarded on our trees.

We poison our souls with envy like devils to a God,
yet we should be exuberant in modesty above all.  

We fight against each other brain washed like barbarians,
yet we can survive and thrive as one nation ask  librarians.

We shame God claiming life magically started with a big bang,
yet with a snap of finger, can go abra cadabra and pull trigger.

In castled houses we're homeless unlike those in card board homes;
earning a coin a day concluding with poverty as their sin to pay.

We like to be bright as colour to seek attention like barking dogs,
ayeh when push calls shove our loud minds turn silent like logs.

We don't trust each other as a team so attain selfish goals,
yet when opportunity is availed, failure points its fingers to all.

We are a team, and as team mates,
ones shame brings shame to another.

Does the rod groom a child?

A father from hell might yell,
because his son didn't make it to Yale.
Ayeh, why raise his rod,
when his son did his best?

You've warned your daughter of fire
but she keeps playing around and with it.
Should  you take out your rod and use it,
Or let the fire give her a free lesson?

A child might be playing in a park,
and as he slides he breaks his hand,
then his furious mother starts to bark,
like the rod is going to fix his hand.

You might use the rod on your daughter,
taming her not to fall for the neighbour,
yet when she matures and becomes older,
the world is filled with fools going to tease her.

When the world is painted red,
and fear is created using our rods-
by whipping children for walking into it,
they'll quiver and fail when it's time to face it.

Parents wield the power of the rod.
power sometimes falls into wrong hands,
and is also often misused and abused,
when emotions aren't sieved from actions,

Far be it from me to tell one how to raise child,
I have none of my own ayeh, If you use your rod,
you might groom your child, yet if you don't,
you create room to influence and give guidance due. 

Arranged love

I did not line my ducks to get you,
they say our star signs were aligned.

I did not know anything about you;
so much for falling in love with a stranger.

At the start your habits made me morbid,
yet I too carry flaws that some consider horrid.

They asked me to find happiness in you,
and at night, I was to sleep and cuddle with you,.

yet you snore all night, it makes me want to fight,
and if that wasn't awkward, we were meant to have kids.

I bestowed my faith into you,
and hoped you wouldn't seek to be worshipped.

I placed my trust in you,
kept praying you would't step all over it.

This was not love at first sight,
it was a gambled set up prone to plight.

I did not choose you,
You are the one I chose to love.

I did not love you,
I just learnt to do so.

Hey, machaa, Wake up!

@11.30, lunch time in great India.
I had wandered off into a temple,
to find truth and do "puja".

The prayer started off intense,
I stared in order to form a bond.
deep in her line of contact,
a glare ahead blurred my view.

Ayeh,
"X marks the spot,
and persistence is the sport."
So I kept praying for my spot.

I burnt my incense,
declared what incensed,
and said;"my dear lord Mara,
I seek to love and one to love me"

I fed her, lured her,
as I chanted,
"Mara, oh Mara"

My forehead marked in tilaka,
lead my way like a chakra.
The incense in our presence was enticing,
the flowers made natural our nature.

I blew my trumpet;
the day had finally come,
then I struck the bell,
and she arrived like hell.

I offered her a seat,
showered her hands and feet,
then I offered her a drink,
chanting, "Mara, oh Mara.."

"Give me love,"
and she showered me,
I felt baptised.
I handed her flowers,

thanked her for her blessings,
and before I could offer my obeisances,
my friend big barked;
"hey, macha,Wake up!"

Loud sirens.

Thoughts swirl round in my head,
loud as rainbow coloured sirens,
They lark all over my mind like cops-
around the block, working off the clock.

Sometimes they're toe to toe as if namaz,
I often fail to sleep, it's like jihad.
ayeh without them playing their part,
I would have no use for my Natraj.

And late night before I sleep,
my thoughts clink like machines,
I call it processing; my mind's a factory,
piecing things together so it can guide me.

When it's time for me to sleep,
they bleat like furry sheep,
to help countdown till I shutdown,
then I levitate far away into unknown.

During the day, I have more control
I manipulate them and make music,
I sail far away from rugged coast
on speed boats listening to waves.

when I'm Idle, they bring me turmoil.
and I can't wrap them up into silk foil.
When beautiful, I display them like fossil.
all in all, I'm glad they spoil me.

They can rule me all they want,
as long as they get me where I want.

A valentines special, introducing Loathpid

The pids were twins born in the same pod,
first ever of their kind to join mankind.
One to spread love and affection,
the other to dissipate it and cause havoc.

They had a perfect love-hate relationship.
Cupid would hug and kiss his older brother,
Loathpid plotted endless ways to hurt Cupid.
They were friends; ayeh, would go at it like foes.

Loathpid matured faster than Cupid,
so he'd spend endless nights working late,
spreading hate as Cupid slept and dreamt-
unaware of the greatness of his power.

Loathpid grew to hate Cupid's "love shit,"
they gradually fell apart and went separate ways.
Cupid started working but missed his brother,
when off work, searched the world to find him...

The closest they ever get is crossing paths on;

Valentines day,
February, 2013.

Seated by a pond,
two lovers indulge in ice cream,
they giggle, chit chat, and do-
all the things friends do.

Cupid shows up for morning duty,
slings an arrow on her booty.
In shock she flinches forward,
fumbles and drops her cone-

which tumbles onto her lover,
who jolts back and falls
into pond adorned with leaves,
they giggle as love blossoms...



The massacre of hearts,
Valentines day,
February, 2014.

In a pent house up so high,
the love birds high off love
soared the sky lost in kisses,
so the world was shut out.

They didn't hear loathpid come in.
he struck him on his bum-
with a spear like aqua man's,
which shook and made him numb.

As he reacted to the numbing pain,
he shoved his lover off the rail,,
she wailed as she plummeted,
tearing through the furry clouds.

Wails turned into queer giggles,
she could't believe where love was bound
'fore she splattered all over the ground,
and her lover threw himself over the rail.

Loathpid had returned for revenge.



Check out the lovers funeral 

The lovers funeral

They lay hands clasped together,  

wrapped in white cerecloth.

They put them in a double casket, 

and lay them down to rest in dirt,

Their last wish was written in will,

a chance for them to seal the deal;

ayeh as their souls fled their bodies,

they rose apart and sought the sky.

When cleric prayed and said grace,  

the poet came forth and eulogised. 

"So long dear lovers, so long.

eccentric how you chose to leave,

absurd how you met your death,

amazing how you lived for love."

IF you want to find out how they passed,
Look for A valentines special, introducing Loathpid

You, Yes you.

I was pushing my baby brother on his new cycle.
celebrating joy, oblivious of the fourth coming ploy,
then things started to fall apart like Chinue Achebe,
The house trampled over us with a hailstorm thrust.
Father who was walking towards could move no further.
he had been trampled by debris, his face peeped out,
smothered in white, I cried inside to set aside emotions.
I had to push my baby brother to the side like a Tetris.
Ayeh, the Tv fell over him and swallowed him,
sparked one last spark. his last cry I did not hark,
as I lay with a boulder over my chest, yelling;
low yells trying to quell the numbing pain from hell.
My yells faded as I watched debris marinate my brother,
as if the TV wasn't enough. then I saw the light flashing,
death was on its way coming, and everything faded out.

I hovered in the air, and watched the hails of smoke rise.
I watched my life come to an end like a bankrupt enterprise,
Life had played unfair, it sent us a controversial drone attack..


Life is strange,
One moment you could be skating high like Tony hawk,
then other you could be laying in your grave like a log;
feeling, Deadish...

Be careful and grateful, life comes and goes by quick.

At the fork.

Last night I had dinner with Tina,
we went to a place called the fork.
It was a lovely place-it mimicked a fork.

It had a three steel door entry.
The one to the left-
led to the place with stakes.
The one to the right
led to our table for the night.
The one in the middle-
showed you out after you'd nibble.

She was dressed in white,
clean as napkin white.
I was dressed in silver,
as simple as silverware.

The room was chilly,
almost like cold cutlery.
It was round like a plate,
our chairs wrought like spoons.

We dipped into our chairs,
then took a bite off starters.
champagne was delivered,
in a bucket with flares,
we sipped on it like winners.

She fed me one of her-
chunky pieces of beef,
the chef was a chief,
Top notch! Although,
The fork stung me for a moment,
it was ice Popsicle cold,
smooth as sand papered metal.
It's taste; debatable.
Almost like plastic; tasteless,
Ayeh,
With a hint of, "mattress foam."
She said..

It reminded me of my youth,
When I used to pica off-
mattress foam to derive soothe.
I told her about it, she laughed-
as we feasted on our veggies-
like mindless cows then-
we clinked our glasses to the night.

Papier mache ghost

Je m'appelle papier mache;
la mannequin.

People use me, they say
I'm easy to manipulate
I'm only "papier mache,"

They make a fool out of me,
dress me with a cloak over head
with big round eyes like a ghost.
yet still, I go out haunting-
seeking deadbeat victims
hoping to find romance.


This story starts @ Mr Benssons' jewels.

Bennson, "the dealer,"
opened chit chat with her.
She always intrigued me;
la mode, patient and very artistic.

He was playing wing-man-
ayeh she focused on him like a rubix,
so she failed to feel my touch.

I had been haunting her for days,
funny thing is she had imaginary friends,
crazy or crazy?

As she ambled out the shop,
I docked back into my spot,
stood, froze, waved, and smiled,
the "papier mache smile;"
that thanks you and brings you back.

I grew tired of waiting,
so the next time she came back,
I turned on my charm and pursued.
It turned out the smile had done wonders,
it snapped her like a gator bag!
So my efforts didn't go out in vain.

She invited me to her place and we stayed up late,
I had hoped to give her the holy ghost,
she slept in the couch, gave me the bed,
the nerve of this babe!

I was feisty so I attempted to sleep thirsty.
It was dreadful, I eventually pulled through,
As I dreamt, a "visitor" came by,
she gigidy, gigidy atop my woody,
and served me like a table;
they call them "majini."

I wondered how she got through my jeans.
rubbed my lamp and I came like a genie?
I struggled to wake from sleep,
yet could look round the room.
I could barely move or get up.
It was probably seated on my chest;
sleep paralysis they say.

When I eventually woke up
everything around me
turned out haunting.
The strange ambience of her room,
the photos were un-deen to me,
the pink, gosh, the pink,
and it was just 4.30 am.

I stayed awake till the sun stood out like a TM.
when I left, I decided not to go back to Tz...

Back from my dreadful holiday,
I wasted no time, I went back to Bensons',
got dressed to impress my next prey...

I waited on a new maiden to drop by
so that together we could hallo-wean,
trick or treat, and get fond of each other.

When she walked in,
I stood with one hand in pocket,
the other stretched out for a hand shake,
and on my face;
the "papier mache smile."
She couldn't resist it,
she wanted all of me,
shook my hand and took photos with me.
said I was a strange man,
I only lacked a queen.
So she bought the clothes off of me,
then I gave her the holly ghost.
She scrum "merry, merry;"
ayeh, Jesus never saved her,
she had fallen for a ghost,
one unlike most filled with emotion.

Love bloomed,
we walked through walls together,
It was sweet serenade,
we danced to it til the music got cut!

I lost my ghost-ism,
failed to walk through walls-
Mr unstoppable had turned stoppable,
the Haunter had been haunted,
I was disgruntled; I lost it!

I started begging her-
to stay a tad longer.
I had surely become poor;
hollow heart, peevish eyes.
I turned into a chokora,

I got onto my feet,
dusted my self off,
dried trickling tears-
from my hollow sockets,
and plastered back-
the "papier mache smile,"

Fear, nay, RespecT

The falcon must give the Falconer due respect;

ayeh, respect mustn’t be skewed for fear;

In its due ;

One will bow down for the falconer and greet,

one will go huts off as a respectful treat,

one will await the falconer to take his seat,

even though all acclaimed, one mustn’t retreat.

Unless out of fear where one bows to kiss feet 

attempting to please,

turning it into deceit with ease,

yet fear is an act we must seize.

for "respect" sparked by fear is untrue.

Falcon vs Falconer or is it the other way round? 

The pearls of love.

We dig deep-
scavenging grounds for a mineral called love.
Yet as we toil digging up mounds of dirt,
our one true love supports us as we try to leave.

She plasters our injuries like Florence nightingale,
after we have worked our shovels like miners-
failing to hark, the loud siren warning us
that love in dark mines is bound to collapse over us.

She holds her lamp to guide the way like a light house
as she watches you try to Oprah win-win,
as you swim in deep sea, Micheal pheeling yourself,
scuba diving trying to discover "precious love."

She watches and prays for you like Mother Teresa;
you're an inquisitive youth struggling on your mission.
She tells you, "Little flower, Do not rush to bloom.
Seek God on your journey and it'll not be in vain,"

She holds you from birth, moulds you to take on earth,
hoping that one day you will be an Obama,
yet you wander away trying to find your Michele,
to precede you yet love should preside and guide you.

She used to sing you to sleep like Beyonce,
and let you feel her halo embedded with x's and o's.
ayeh, you're now out their looking for ivy,
so she can sting you and leave you for dead.

We dig deep, skin deep,
yet wander far away,
from what we are fond of-
trying to find love,
love that has not been gifted to us.
Yet after being conceived and delivered,
we set our eyes on a gift of love;
Mothers; the pearls of love.

The sin bin

If selling's a sin,
and you're selling to win
should you throw it in the bin?

"How much," he asks,
with sexual desire-
glittering over his eyes.

You left home-
mum left before you.
Now you're your own mother,
helping out a brother; ayeh,
at what cost?

"Meka?" he asks.
With sexual desire- 
glittering over his eyes.

You bore a child as a child,
now you seek funding after gambling.
You placed a bet over school,
school lost to love, love left,
Now you’re dealing in theft,
selling "illegal goods-"
to get your daughter some food; ayeh,
at what cost?

"Kitna?" He asks.
With sexual desire- 
glittering over his eyes.

As you sought opportunity,
opportunity forced its way into your vicinity.
Now you’re caught in a game,
the sad part is it brings you shame,
Albeit;
You stick there for you need the change; ayeh,
at what cost?

"Ikura desu ka?" he asks.
With sexual desire- 
glittering over his eyes.

Now he has you bent over,
you’re an MTSW for H.I.V,
carried by a truck driver,
that's on ARV's and thinks H.I.V
Is Acquired In Desperate Situations.
So in your desperation,
You acquired a deficiency syndrome; ayeh,
at what cost?

"Wieviel?" he asks,
With sexual desire 
glittering over his eyes.

In your saffron for easy access,
you offer brothel service 
to famished goons to achieve success.
Your business model somewhat quaint,
your tips are from long hours of work,
procured by a pimp who just listens and cheers,

At the end of the day,
you have slaved,
maybe you've even been choked,
and still managed-
to have his financial fetish cleared.
You’re a red light district citizen,
always in a red light crimson, ayeh,
at what cost?

"Bekkam?" he asks,
With sexual desire- 
glittering over his eyes.

You’re a victim of human trafficking-
being banged up abroad.
If only it was drug trafficking,
the absurd tragedy would get you 
aboard an orange bus in transit-
trafficking dealers of coc,
to a place enclosed in tight locks; ayeh,
your innocence, guilty by situation,
might get you in a deadlock,
either dead or dead!

So if selling's a sin,
and you are selling to win,
should you throw it in the bin?

Kili poyi, kili poyi.

Kili poyi, kili poyi.

They took with them sun as it faded in far end,
they left joy that imprinted a child with smile,
they sang beautiful songs of victory and peace-
as they waved away in cursor against the wind,

Kili poyi, kili poyi.

They brought love outstretched in their wings,
spreading passion captured in picturesque scene.
Their silhouettes reflected over water in bowls,
embedded with rose petals beautiful as rangoli.

Kili poyi, kili poyi,

They now chant in a distance to earnest men
who all day long have toiled and boiled in the heat,
waiting patiently for the setting sun to plummet,
and a sign from the birds to come by and relive them.

Kili poyi, kili poyi...

The birds flew away, the birds flew away,
and they took hope to their next destination.

B.M.W

B.M.W

There be no perfect justice,
to define treads of your beauty.
If we sat in a court house,
to debate what makes-
you poetically undefined,
gavel would not pound.

One lawyer would say
"your hips don't lie,"
yet as you lay on the bed,
small as graphite pencil,
only God can define
what beauty I look at,
so that would be a lie...

Another lawyer would say,
"your derriere redefines round"
as apples sit at the back of its lounge.
He would say it "lofty and curvy
like the engine on a Ducati."
yet these are labels inscribed on you,
the true you is where we are bound...

Another one would say,
"your pear like milky way,
is one that makes man,
envious of baby.
It is a work of art,
sitting on your chest,
one that some of 'you'
have seized to taste."

"As man tastes your luscious skin,"
another lawyer would say,
"no matter the hue, or shade,
pore by pore with greed.
He sucks as if trying to dig-
to find out what lies within."

Yet the skin which holds you-
is only wrapper and your hair ribbon.

Ayeh, when I stare deep into your;
B.M.W eyes, I see true you.
I see the story of your heart,
and the burden bore by the soul of a-
Beautifully-Made-Woman.

.P.T.P.D ( Put the pot down!)

.P.T.P.D

Put down the pot,
put down the pot.
It will break you and own you.
You're trying to prove your bravado; ayeh,
you're not brave enough, bro.
It will break and water will pour over you.

Is it shame you seek?

Put down the pot,
put down the pot.
You're holding onto it; ayeh,
your hands are not glued to it.
You only fear to let go yet if you don't,
your mental enslavement will grow.

Is it fear that drives you?

Put down the pot,
put down the pot.
I know it looks beautiful, ayeh
It's like the forbidden fruit.
there is reason why you do not deserve it;
otherwise, you will grow an undesirable habit.

Is it beauty that drives you?

Put down the pot,
Put down the pot.
I know you are thirsty; ayeh,
that should not make you feisty.
Drink your water with modesty,
and only when need be.

Is it thirst you long to quench?

Put down the pot,
Put down the pot,
It is not only hot, ayeh,
It will burn you and lead you to choke,
so if you do not stop running stops.
the fine you'll pay will be high and ruin your rapport.

Is it temptation that drives you?

Put down the pot,
Put down the pot,
It might lure you; ayeh,
It only puts you out of your gourd
yet does not have the potency,
to force you into dependency.

It is only a pot,
so put it down,
you can carry it another time,
and even if it gets stolen,
you can always make another.

I still love you, why?

I remember the first time I met you,
we were in the village by fire place awaiting dinner.
You were dressed in brown had a pot like figure,
your skin was fair, you were thick and hot.

A friend of mine asked me to taste you,
said my life would put its fate in you.
I dived and you burnt me like a flame,
I died that night then rose again.
then held onto you for support.
but you started to kill my rapport.

We grew to become great friends,
I once broke our chain link; ayeh,
we made amends and tied knot again

Life changed,
you grew clear to me,
and in my tiger like eyes,
your beauty is fragile and exquisite
dressed in glass, such a fine exhibit,
clear to me like vodka.
with a waist and taste like Bailey's.

One night, we were out together, drinking as usual.
You asked me to pull out one more from the fridge,
one of my unusual, but wished for gig's.

I hate to say but,
that was one of my best nights.
I drunk bottle to bottle,
stayed as firm as a knight-
battling through the night.

Ayeh, my best night was when you came dressed in green,
a napkin hang over your hips like a slit.
As always, you were dressed in glass; fragile!

When we locked lips,
we had conversation through the night.
I had never connected with a person
as much as I did with you. so that night,
the love we made was fresh out intimacy's kitchen.

You listened to my troubles,
it did not matter if it felt like I spoke to myself,
it did not matter if I teared or made a full of myself,
laughed so hard at my misery and teared some more,
pulling a loud snot like I cried through my nose.

None of that put you off,
you always gave me your all,
even if after I started to piss on the road-
in fact you always thought that funny,
the rest called me a drunk, so every time I drunk,
I cursed them out and blamed it on the liquor,
yet my smart mouth only knows how to beaker.

They tried to pull us apart,
told me I had over dozed,
and you, I suppose, were my drug.
They said I had started talking to myself,
holding conversations with walls,
and hurting people's feelings,
like it is not a fact that they have flaws,
yet you, my dear, are flawless.

I fled there so called "sanctuary,"
it felt like I had been there a century.
I met you in a bar down the road,
I was eager for I missed you dearly.

We sat by the counter,
caught up for old times sake,
then relapsed into old habits.
I imbibed off your luscious milky way,
got sucked onto it like the bermuda,
things fell apart after that.

I felt smart yet you tore me apart,
my mother abandoned me,
said I was too caught up loving you.
My kids left me,
said I was too caught up diving in you-
instead of teaching them how to swim, still,
I stuck to the edge of your rim.

I would stagger home to you,
then you would embrace me.
You were always ice cold,
It did not matter because-
like fire, I took away cold.
Then you would hung me again the next day,
and I would resurrect like Jesus in his prime.

The hangovers are now hang over,
it's only the thing I do without you;
Ayeh,
All this time we spend together,
has taken away my liver.

It is trapped in your bottle,
sailing away like a message in a bottle,
yet it can't be put to good use.
Still, here I am with you sparkling,
bubbling and brewing in my gold chalice,
looking ready to deliver malice-
before I take my last shot,
hoping it won't give me a stroke.


If you figured out who she is,
Check out Suicide , and Put down the pot

How will we know?

If you don't scribble,
you will never know,
how your mind nibbles,
off words that draw pictures
and illuminate hearts with inspiration.

If you don't jump,
you'll never know how high,
and we'll never know how low,
we can stoop just to see your show,
as you catch flight and break rims.

If you don't sing,
you will never know it's your thing,
and your voice; silenced,
deep in a casket of your choice,
will never give us courage.

If you keep shoving your hands
down into your pockets, and shy away,
you'll never know, the power they wield
to shock the world when you become  a boxer,

If you do not try to burn out your breaks,
make mistakes and taste fate,
how will we ever know that you're great?

If you like this piece I'm sure you'll like
the break through 

Off the coast and back.

Off the coast and back.

Sometimes I think I can't write,
so I hold onto my words,
throw them in a trunk,
and drive away to the coast.

When I park,
I always look around the lot,
to check if anyone is chasing me for my lot.
When the coast is clear,
I open the boot and start sailing off to sea
to catch a few more words.

Ayeh the words come slow,
They tell me my paddle-
is not pushing us far enough,
So I head back to the car,
shut my boot, drive away.
to look for a boat service centre.

When I get one,
I open my boot again,
then let my mind be tinkered.
After adding an engine to my boat,
I drive back the sail far away,
away from the coast.
This time I am moving at great speed.

I bump into sharks,
jump over waves,
run my fingers over water,
feel a chill from the cold rush,  
as water sprinkles up my arm-
it's an amazing feeling.

When I can,
I let people hop onto my boat,
so we can share the rush.
At our peak,
I cut the engine,
let the water hold us in its calm premise,
and as the sun's reflection lingers over the water,
Our skins goose-bump all over from the cold chill,
I lay back and stare in the clouds.
and write out what they picture.

This time round they look like dolphins,
gliding through the clouds,
sending a sonar to God,
telling him I seek words
to put me back into my gourd,
for I have been forced to think,
that my boat is over flooded
and can not move any further.

So he blesses me,
then my words and I,
float away in tandem,
me behind my leader,
and a few other mandem.
We all catch a good wave,
as we listen to waves clashing in clave,
then make our way back to bay.

This Christmas

This Christmas, yah Allah,
I ask of you, to bless us with new heroes.
for many of our righteous fall daily.
having fought the good fight for us,
but you called them to join you early;
nonetheless, we are still pushing forth,
striving not to drown out here in the deep,
where many confine and asphyxiate us.
So many humans as you know aren't fed,
and chances are some more will not make it,
Ayeh, I beg to defer; some are in wellness-
for they have tried, and keep on trying,
but it is only by your hand that we can be fed.

So dear lord in this time of togetherness,
amid frost bite cold that calls for unity.
May your new heroes, despite our troubles-
fill big shoes and live to see many years.
The kind of years lived by our forefathers
and hopefully many generations of good,
filled with earnest and genuine youth.
serving one another and respecting elders.

May the cold bring with it tremendous joy;
and a need to be together and stand as one.
may the lonely meet lasting company,
for dire times of misery brought agony.
May there be good health and wealth,
and may the positive change of another,
reciprocate three-folds unto others.
May we learn to love, and love to love
for it is what keeps us tied to you.

A heart that authors, offers.

A heart that authors, offers.

May I offer this piece,
as a form of peace for I am meek.
I can barely draw a sword on guard,
ayeh this pen, my only possession;
is mightier than the sword.

May I offer these characters,
that I strive to put into words to
give character and convey a message
that as you perceive while you read,
gives reason for you to heed,
and change character for better.

May I offer you these words,
that I stand by and ward,
for they get me going and writing
special words to the wise like;
"words of slander kept down under,
a worth more than the pain caused
from foul words spoken out loud."

May I offer these metaphors,
in form of words to full-fill
wishful endeavours which are;
to convince you, that you are;
as beautiful as the reflection-
of twinkling lights over still water;
perfect with no need to alter.

May I offer you
my form of authortory,
for its all I have.

The battlefield

The battlefield.


"HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!?"
Words; were drawn-
like kenshi swords.
uncouthly uttered.
Nuts got crashed;
Ego's punctured..
premises for bargain;
cancelled, then, "FIRE!"
They struck me-
with a back hand,
and bashed me with firm fists.
Endless sobs.
Blood spilled all over the floor,
'At least I died for the truth;'
a cause, I suppose.

The truth is like a sword,
sharp with honesty,
hard to come like modesty.
when drawn to strike;
it wields no empathy;
Ayeh, why when spoken,
does it cut deep and leave one broken?

Yet as a sword, it is blunt.
and when unspoken, it will haunt.
the mind of its holder that longs to be blunt.
Albeit fears to utter and go over board.

Colour me red if you must;
Ayeh, I shall speak the truth as a form of trust.




If you like gory pieces check out The meadow

Heart break hotel.

Heart break hotel.

There is a thin between sanity and insanity.
Breaking the barrier back to sanity is always tough,
but belief in God picks you up for his your ultimate love;
the one that comes first.

It was an ordinary day out in the tropics ayeh the sun burnt brighter than usual, I could almost smell my hair burn from the heat waves. With nothing to do, as we sat out in the sun with the boys joking and laughing over high school days, we decided to step out and go for a swim. We went out to Munyonyo resort, the only place then with an Olympic size pool, which was about to send me diving into a jackpot.
We got there at about four and headed straight to the pool side. Usually I don't like to swim right away, I like to have the boys take their awkward jumps into the pool, then I follow in with a few stretches and a silent dive like some sort of Michael Phelps.
This time, when they were all done, I had just got out of the shower, I forgot to do the stretches, I came in running and dived into the pool. I didn't take note of who was in my way, so when I dived, I collided with someone that was doing submarine across the pool.
My head hit her legs, so I lost focus for a short while. When I managed to pull up and out of the pool,
The boys were cracking because they saw it coming and it was a clear moment of joy for their asses to laugh off, those nut heads. karma is a bitch huh?
I hadn't yet seen the person I had bumped into, but she came out of the pool and walked up to me and asked if she could help.She apologised for my blunder, she was an amicable stranger.
I cleared the air and told her it was all my fault, so she smacked my head and told me that was for failing to look where I was headed. Then she rubbed at it some more.
"ouch!" I cried.
"Don't be such a big baby.." she said.
So I held her hand and turned to look at her, I stuttered for a moment, she was beautiful. Dressed in a fine bikini, with a body to kill for. Then I told her,
"hey, your not the one that got hit on the head."
She laughed and asked me to turn so she could rub it before it could swell.
I didn't get back into the pool, I never do anyway. I always get the cold jitters once I'm out. So I left them freezing in there as I enjoyed warm company...
It felt like a beautiful last laugh.

The day ended when we had checked in,
the moon settled in slowly,
the texts went back and forth,
I had finally met a new person.
and it wasn't from school like always.
Her name was Caslanthia,
days later the woman of my dreams;
the woman that kept me sane.

I didn't believe much in love,
but her love was convincing.
It got us dining in several places,
encroaching each other's spaces.
getting wasted and imbibed in loves drug,
we were hooked, like slaves on cuffs.
Only we never sought freedom,
it lived with us.

We ate off the fruit,
of course it tasted like the most beautiful thing in the world.
We cuddled and flickered eyelashes over our faces.
called ourselves names; cookie is what she called me,
It was fitting because she always liked to take a bite off me.
I called her cherry, because she was beautiful and tasted like one.
and I always loved it when she wore red lipstick,
it made her look like my model, a heaven sent model,
cat walking with her fine wings, only for me.

This one day she called me up early in the morning and said to me,
"cookie, I'm sorry, but I have just been told that I will be leaving the country soon."

It was heart breaking news,
I stuttered for a moment,
it did not matter how many days she was left with,
the fact that she was leaving soon is what broke me.
She was about to check out and leave me the bill,
as if that wasn't enough, I could barely deal with thoughts
of 'what could have been? would she ever come back?'
The thoughts burdened my mind, as they levitated,
they made fall deep into a black hole.
All the light in my world started to fade out,
I started sailing from sanity to insanity,
and I took a sharp blade like road to get there.
I was deeply cut, I sobbed for many days,
Ignored her and worsened her days.
We had hit turmoil, with no oil-
to lubricate and smooth out our great fall.

...

I was never a firm believer in God,
Something about religion always felt odd.
The contradictions, the strange expeditions.
It was all too much to take in.
She was a Muslim with a difference,
she would blow up if your pissed her off,
but was truly never the type to engage in dispute,
always as peaceful as a peahen,
and only believed in the oneness of Allah.
Allah was her light and shining armour; her first love,
she served him daily, and I came second.

A month before she left, she asked me for a favour, she asked me to try and seek Him.
She asked me to pray, believe and hope that one day we would get back together.
It all seemed highly unlikely, she wanted me to put my faith in this man,
I could not feel or reach. It all sounded like a gamble, driving me further into insanity.

But I did, I did what she asked. I could not say no to her, so I tried, I tired as hard as I could.
The first few days were confusing, so much to learn, so much to take in with my lack of faith.
I was a new born in the world of religion, but she held my hand and helped me travel that road.
Nothing had ever felt as superior as the love I had for her, although with the understanding of Allah and his ways, I grew a fondness, I learnt to trust, I learnt that there will always be bad days, I learnt that with falls came greater heights and all it took was belief.
I was eased at that point, somewhat convinced that one day we would hold hands again, that one day our paths would cross again as we had desired, so I set her free and she flew away when her time came.

I cried myself to sleep several nights after that. My friends did not understand what I had become.
I was humbled by change, more spiritual, I guess you could say blessed.
In my tears I spoke much to Allah, I cursed him for taking her away, for making my days lonesome and short of lustre, but He was patient with me, He waited for my numb heart to settle down.

...

Months passed as we communicated everyday on phone, it had become expensive and unbearable. But we struggled through it. I was more in touch with Allah than I was with her, I had grown into a new relationship, one which cost me nothing but belief and faith. I talked to Allah more than I did her, and it was so easy going about life after I decided to take that path. I knew he would never let me down, even if I hit a slump, I knew he would pick me up from it. So He tested me...

It was Saturday afternoon, I had just gone back home from the mosque when her father called. Usually when he would call, he was always asking me how she was doing or inviting me over to his place. This time round, it was a 666 phone-call, a call from the angel of death.
"Caslanthia has been announced dead," he said.
He apologised then hang up.
My phone dropped from my hands, my knees grew weary and I collapsed.
Tears run down my eyes and hit the floor, my mind paced and made me lose control.
That day I did nothing more, I did not even pray. I stayed in bed all day.
Later that evening a phone call from her mother came in.
"Hello,"  She had soft voice.
"How are you, Aldrige?"
"Probably not worse than you are, ayeh am barely hanging on."
"Things will get better. Come by tomorrow, we will be sending her off."
She could barely speak the words.
"I'm sorry ma'am."
"Don't be, this is what life is. thank you for being there for her. I hope to see you tomorrow."
"I will definitely be there, take care, ma'am."
"You too, darling."
In just one year, my life had managed to take a trip from sanity to insanity, back to sanity and another trip back down the hell fire of insanity.
The line was surely thin. But this time insanity seemed to have claimed a win.
Her body flew in the next day after her mother had called me and they waited no longer. They got to the burial arrangements that evening.
I could not imagine what her family was going through. So as I set off from home that day, I asked Allah to give me the strength and deliverance I needed.
My tears had dried out so I was firm when I got there. The session was long and filled with so many sobs, it was a sad day. Her father asked me to deliver her eulogy and I had come prepared to say something besides that. So it was an honour.

"I don't know where to start from honestly, they's so much to say, I shall try to sum it up.
Meeting Caslanthia was an accident I thank Allah for everyday.
For before that day, I would have never known how Allah mysteriously works.
I bumped into her as I dived into a pool. I caused the accident because of my clumsiness but she walked up to me and helped me either way. From that moment on, I knew she had heart of gold and her soul purpose for life was to glitter the world with her warm embrace.
I believe even if you barely knew her on a personal level, she touched you somehow. ayeh if she wronged you, I ask on her behalf for you to forgive her. As none of us is perfect.
I could stand here and tell you about all the good she has brought unto me, but I won't for my story is one that speaks volumes of her.
Before I leave I would like to thank Cookie for introducing me to Allah, she gave me a path way, a new life to an endless relationship. One that might not be perfect because of my mishaps but one that brought me here and gave me the courage to send her off with peace.
I will forever love her and I know she will wind up in the right place. Aslaam alaiekum."
When I walked of the podium in front of a large crowd that had gathered to send her off, I felt a lift on my body, I felt sanity lift my light body. I was no more burdened by her death, I had managed to send her off in peace and my heart had grown into ease; although, I would have never made it out of that point if it was not for my belief in Allah. So I thank Caslanthia, she was surely my heaven sent angel.

As I checked out of heartbreak hotel from the podium, I tripped on the stairs, landing on a person that was besides them. When I rose from the ground to dust my self off , I looked up to the lady that I had knocked once again because of my clumsiness and said to myself,
"Allah surely does work in a mysterious way."

Yeh ssebo!

Yeh ssebo!

You want another term?
Yeh Sebo!
You want another rap?
Yes Sevo!
M7 is the best sports man on the planet.
he beats even our very own golola.

Its been many years,
many years of that yellow flag,
holding us by our mouths in gag,
yet our peace is slowly running away like a stag.

Red top soldiers now,
bring us to tears with tear gas.
strikes now mark the start of semesters,
prices have become absurd and sinister.
sorrow is rising like the morning sun,
as screams of the innocent fill the air-
like the scent of dead dogs.

But there we stand,
holding our peace signs up,
in arms with a man,
who started this with gun in hand.
back when screams of pain had been mastered,
caused by the tyranny of our old masters.

At least he skewed us into an alter,
and married us with an alternative of hope.
ayeh many years down the road,
I wonder if his acts will force him to hide,
or will he wrap his act with another rap?



This is what's happening in our Concrete Jungle...
It makes me wonder, Where's the happy in Independence? 

R.I.P

R.I.P

I never waved you goodbye,
I hope heaven greats you with a hello.
I never wanted to cry,
ayeh you left me all alone in sorrow.
Now my heart is 'really' hollow,
and my mind keeps playing our memories,
yet there's no chance for tomorrow.

I gave you the lift you needed,
all the attention you required, I heeded.
Ayeh, life was being sucked out of you as you pleaded.
You pleaded to pass on just so you could rest,
from the pins and needles that kept your heart beating.
ayeh all those earthly things couldn't keep you from leaving.
They only tortured you and made you want to walk the flat line.
And when the time came,
you walked on it then jumped off of it and into deaths' hands,
and your beep on the radar of earth stopped lighting.
It was frightening,
I was not even there to hold your hand in the darkness,
I was out in the sun, miles away trying to harvest.

Now, as thoughts of you endlessly build,
I do thank God he laid you to rest,
for the pain you went through-
was unimaginable and hard to fathom,
you surely do deserve stardom.
I hope that wherever you are,
sparkling like a star.
you are doing it effortlessly,
for you deserve to rest in peace.