tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63028119922561011652024-03-09T18:46:46.687-08:00theropbrianThe stories you can't tell anyone, the thoughts that yell at you in the middle of the night come alight here. For an anonymous you. And sometimes me. Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.comBlogger550125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-20194009481408675142023-12-12T03:46:00.000-08:002023-12-12T03:46:08.743-08:00I Left The City<span style="font-family: arial;">I left the city long ago </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">fleeing from my demons </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">surprisingly, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">my demons welcomed me </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">in a far and alien land </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">where conversations are difficult </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I am forced to be a loner </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Have conversations with myself </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">they are not that great </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but I yearn for my city </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">where a couple of people know my name</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and my language </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-42300179903218017052023-12-12T03:43:00.000-08:002023-12-12T03:43:05.066-08:00Taken For Granted<span style="font-family: arial;">what would happen </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">if you were not the chosen?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">may be they like the way </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you are ever present, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">like air, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">- for instance, how much do you </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">think of air? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">abundant, present, cheap</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and you are sort of entitled to it?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">may be you haven't made yourself </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">rare, scarce </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">that's you are taken for granted</span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-56209492052642533212023-10-01T23:34:00.000-07:002023-10-01T23:34:04.627-07:00Long <span style="font-family: arial;">time move swiftly <br />we watched, silently gazing </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">at our little sacred dreams, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">saying nothing, wishing nothing </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but bidding time </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for when we'd never have to</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">dream again </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and that would be when all </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the dreams have come true </span></div><div><br /></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-11500641712601457732023-08-05T22:29:00.004-07:002023-08-05T22:29:35.703-07:00Sitting By The Edge <span style="font-family: arial;">I'll be sitting by edge, </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">smiling, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and never wish I stuck by</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">your side, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">not today, not tomorrow </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but someday, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for now, I'll keep in touch </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and take note of your tone </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">because I am idle like that </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">there is no better way to waste time </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">than to make you feel </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">as if I am eternally and hopelessly </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">infatuated by by </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">as if there is no other being </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">on earth that would deserve this </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">that would love better </span></div><div><br /></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-60297046699899976592023-08-04T11:50:00.002-07:002023-08-04T11:50:17.017-07:00One Drink Tonight <span style="font-family: arial;">I will have a drink tonight </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and toast to the madness </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">abundant in every nerve </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">inside me </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I'll have a drink tonight </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">that'll remind me I am alive </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I'll have a drink </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">to take a brief break from all </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the hassle that abounds </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I'll have a guilt free drink </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">just one drink </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-50461397806015337622023-07-24T22:55:00.002-07:002023-07-24T22:55:08.967-07:00Battle-Scarred <span style="font-family: arial;">may be you are battle-scarred</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">from the constant need to define </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">who you are </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">in a world keen deeming a star </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and one day, you set yourself free </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">from all the yokes </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and the never ending need to fit in </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and live life on your rules </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but then the constant pursuit of </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">people seeking to rob you </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">your hard earned happiness </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">grate your already weary soul </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-72538837445883537932023-07-12T22:43:00.004-07:002023-07-12T22:43:38.224-07:00We'll Meet Again <span style="font-family: arial;">we'll meet again </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">in a positively hopeless place </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">a place where we'll have </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">forgotten </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">what it means to dream </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and the past pains that clung to us </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">like leeches they were </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">will become a cherished part of </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">our existence </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and the scars, both palpable </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and impalpable</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">will become emblems </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">of who we are </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">or who we never became </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-7697521756549149492023-06-22T03:46:00.004-07:002023-06-22T03:46:29.047-07:00The Angry Teacher <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">She was a nightmare. I do not know why,
exactly, but she used to send shivers down my young spine. We were in class two.
And every morning we secretly prayed she never showed up to teach. And of course,
our relationship with god was at its infancy, therefore unanswered. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Every morning, whispers ‘she’s coming’
would rent the classroom and we’d all peep through the window to confirm. I
guess seeing is believing. Mrs. Chirchir would be ambling across the field in
pace that made us extra tense as we tried to welcome the impending doom. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">The mere act of crossing the field taught
us two things: that whatever is abominable for us was perfectly acceptable for
adults. Taking a detour across the field was akin to insulting the king. I
guess it was an early lesson, which we did not get, that adults can do whatever
they want. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">I didn’t like Mrs. Chirchir at all. She had
two children, a boy and a girl. They were two really annoying children. I think
they intentionally chokozad others and if you lay a finger on them or even act
like it, you’d encounter the rath of their mother. We kept our distance,
leaving the kids to annoy themselves. And they often fought, with the boy, being
younger, was more ferocious than an accosted lion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Mrs. Chirchir did not do me anything to me
of note. Except I lived in mortal fear of her. One day, she came to class
surreptitiously and found me talking with my desk mate Edu. We were doing our
assignments and Edu was apparently copying from me and I was letting him know
about it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">“Ati unanionea hii!!” I said within Mrs.
Chhirchir’s earshot. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">“Kumbe unaongeanga ivo?” She asked. At the
time, I knew hell had broken loose. I knew I would be turned into mince meat.
But she didn’t. she let it slide but that simple act did not make me like her
at all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Fridays were hellish days for us. This was
the day we’d be asked to fetch fresh cow dung from a neighbor to improve the
aesthetics of our classroom floor. It wasn’t’ cemented. It was hellish for us
boys because it was an indignifying chore. It was emasculating and the woman in
Mrs. Chirchir used that opportunity to diminish our manhood – it wasn’t that
advanced but it was manhood nevertheless. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-10006877848517393282023-06-22T03:38:00.005-07:002023-06-22T03:38:52.237-07:00Sore From Too Much Thinking <span style="font-family: arial;">there will come a point </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you can't write anymore </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">your head will be sore </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">from thinking too much </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">of life, and all the things </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">foisted upon us </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and everything is akin to </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">to living through a punishment. </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-20382311341263182572023-06-07T23:00:00.006-07:002023-06-07T23:00:58.915-07:00A Bright Day <span style="font-family: arial;">It is a bright day today </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Good tidings are on the way </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">There isn't much to say</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Except bow down and pray </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The nagging thought still exist </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Somehow we haven't kept abreast </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">So many have ticked their wish list </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Yet we haven't visited the priest </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">It is a good day to dream once more </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">We've knocked so many a door </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">But we are wiser now, unlike days of yore </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">It is a bright day, we can dream more </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-47604977782228144722023-06-03T23:21:00.000-07:002023-06-03T23:21:33.968-07:00No Future <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">When you think really deeply, there is
nothing like future. Of course, if you discount Future Fambo, and Future the
rapper. But today, I am incapable of thinking really deeply. I’ll offer a
superficial analysis of my hypothesis on why there is nothing like future. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">It dawned on me, and I am quite astounded,
that I am really old. Somewhere along the highway of sweet twenties, I got
waylaid by some aliens who convinced me that growing up stopped at 20+x years.
It could be a nice way to live if you had oil wells pumping under your armpits.
The stench would be bearable to the fairer gender. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">20+x years imprints a fatalistic
here-and-now mentality. At this age, the future does not exist. There is
nothing like a month from now. A year from now? We’ll be probably dead after
consuming mercury-laced sugar if not OD. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">After Y years have elapsed, the bubble
might burst suddenly or gradually. It can be sudden when you go back to the
village and that small boy who used to ask you stupid questions as young
children are wont, is married with two children. And the wife is probably hot,
too, if round off motherhood to the nearest 18 years. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">And the little champ has built a house!! It
might not be that grand per say, but it is his house. He can wake up and
demolish it and no one would give him shit. We would think he is mad though
even if it is his own house, built with his own money. And he probably has an
old rickety motorbike that would give you tetanus or marasmus – whichever comes
first. But damn it! It’s his motorbike, bought with is own sweat and blood. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">And then there is you, stuck at 20+x years
with a bunch of diplomas and degrees, and a whacky philosophy about life and
everything that makes it throb. Whacky here means contrary to popular belief,
that is, politics, social, and financial. And religion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Back to future. It only exists because you
decide not to live now. For instance, you could make a little money and decide
to postpone spending it now. You willfully deny yourself pleasure to spend it
at a later now, which if think closely, will still be now. You will never be
alive in a future, you are only alive now, at this present, and one breath, one
heartbeat, and one second at a time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">But then if you think like this, you will
stagnate and turn murky and greenish like stagnant water. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-50826989511828011162023-06-03T23:17:00.000-07:002023-06-03T23:17:33.351-07:00Where You Can't Afford Sentimentalism <span style="font-family: arial;">when you wash ashore </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">alone, and lost in an island </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you will not care anymore </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">about who should hold your hand </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you will not be sentimental </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">feelings will be replaced by survival instincts </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you will revert to the natural </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">living within the new precincts</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and when nights sail by </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">no more thoughts of unrequited love </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">when night creatures prowl nearby </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you'd only wish you lived above </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-35344783733535193232023-05-29T01:50:00.001-07:002023-05-29T01:50:47.406-07:00The Spider <span style="font-family: arial;">the spider dexterously spins its web</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">its gangly feet hold it midair </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">a slight touch of its web </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and the spider bungee jumps </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and when the danger passes </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">it hoists itself up, like a crane </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but the question remains - </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">why doesn't it get stuck in its own web?</span></div><div><br /></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-50355452726405041282023-05-29T01:31:00.006-07:002023-05-29T01:34:21.898-07:00The Writer and His Excuses <span style="font-family: arial;">I will not write today, </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the wind blows in a sinister manner </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and has misaligned my creativity stars</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I will not write today </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the table creaks in a way </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">that grates my soul </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I will not write today </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I am yet to discover </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">one chore I haven't done yet </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I will not write today </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">something somewhere is just not right </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I can't point it out, so I will not write </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I will not write today </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for I am not anybody's favorite poet </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">except I have the illusion </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">that I was born with a gift of the gab </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I will not write today </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">my mouse is not working </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I had never thought - to my dismay </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">how much a mouse meant to my creativity </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-41954596182228246632023-05-29T01:14:00.004-07:002023-05-29T01:14:49.399-07:00The Songs <span style="font-family: arial;">the songs that you both loved listening to,</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">echo in a distant with haunting clarity </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and the chaos that you once embraced </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">becomes entangled with reality, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">muddying it, destroying all illusions </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and creates storms that you never, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">in a million years, anticipated, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you become limp </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">unaware, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">unsure, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">of what to do </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-64011273424129756772023-05-29T01:06:00.005-07:002023-05-29T01:06:57.425-07:00You Will Get Used To It <span style="font-family: arial;">one day, just one day, </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you will get used to the cold embrace </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">of loneliness </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">you will cherish how numb you are </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">when you think of them, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">how they hurt you </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">how they took you for granted </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">how they often forgot you are human </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"> - a feeling human </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">one day you will unfurl all the memories </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and scatter them like chaff </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and watch them disappear </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and feel nothing about it </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">one day you will get used to not </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">missing them </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and on that day, you will live as </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">though they never existed </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and you will be free </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">alone, but free </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-66951768913971950462023-05-29T00:57:00.004-07:002023-05-29T01:10:03.881-07:00The World <span style="font-family: arial;">the world is a fiery ball of madness </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">dizzyingly spinning in its orbit </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">churning, relentlessly, days and nights </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">some that happen, and plenty that don't </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the world is a fitting arena </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for both the wise and fools alike </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">each dances to their tunes </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and leave their own distinct legacies </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">when breath becomes air </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the world offers an equal chance </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">it has always been fair like that </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but it never guarantees equal outcomes </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for none deserves more than they should </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">none more than they are willing to give </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-48004684625810793222023-05-29T00:52:00.005-07:002023-05-29T00:52:52.335-07:00The Insane Man <span style="font-family: arial;">there are no doubts about his insanity </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">it doesn't even require a psychologist's intervention </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for no man has ever been apt </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">to find excuses </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and where to lay blame </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for his impeccable inability </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">to chase his dreams </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and, so, he does his things </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the old-versioned way</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">expecting different results </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-36474161275121423332023-05-25T14:50:00.001-07:002023-05-25T14:50:04.521-07:00Odd Humans<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s approaching seven in the evening. You
are taking a walk to clear your head. You could use some form of unfamiliarity.
You take an unfamiliar street. Amid the hustle and bustle, it is difficult to
mind your own business. Children shriek and hurl vulgar (adult-rated) insults
at one another. You mutter <i>watoto wa siukuizi</i> under your breath, because
you are now too old. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then you spot an oddity, a peculiar sight.
You know what that sight means – it means the grim reaper visited a family. How
do you know it? The bereaved family takes out a speaker, plays some sombre
gospel songs, and places the picture of the deceased close by. The family wants
you to know that death has visited them, and that they may (or may not, that’s
the way things are done) need some financial assistance. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">As you walk by, you look at the deceased’s
picture and the family that has gathered around. Your only concern is how the
deceased met his death. Was it a long illness bravely born? Was it an accident?
Was it thugs? Did he die suddenly? Then you begin thinking about your own
mortality. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">But one of the deceased family members
confronts you. She forcefully wants you to be empathetic and respond in kind by
parting with your hard-earned cash. It is nauseating, that level of
entitlement. You ignore her and walk on. She is not done with you and shouts:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">“Ata wewe utakufa!!!” where did that come
from? Really? Was it even necessary? She says it as though she is never used to
being rejected or ignored. Or she had signed a pact with God that whoever she
talks to parts with something. The nerve!! Benevolence is not compulsory. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">In anger at her statement, you respond in
kind ‘pia wewe utakufa!’She adds more insults that put to question whether she
was actually bereaved or not. You walk on. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></span></p>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-24549086200937796942023-05-23T22:56:00.003-07:002023-05-23T23:13:26.896-07:00Do Not Plead <span style="font-family: arial;">everything has been spoken </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and I am here to leave a token </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">maybe of appreciation or not </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for I am glad you told me I came short </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I am not bitter, though I should be </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">It can be hard sometimes to see </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">how far down you have fallen </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">not especially with pride and ego swollen </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I'd love to be here again tomorrow </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but I am gonna leave my heart to fallow </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">let it grow some weeds </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">because I believe it's what it needs </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">do not plead, do not ask me to stay </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">it took all my strength to walk away </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I'll be watching you at a distance </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">celebrating your success at every chance </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-257108853918982642023-05-21T06:44:00.001-07:002023-05-21T06:44:32.768-07:00Perfect Solitude <span style="font-family: arial;">One early morning, <br />I sat alone sipping my vodka, <br />the pervasive silence that engulfed </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">the room</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">spoke of perfect solitude </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I was at peace</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">with myself, and the world, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and there, I resolved that </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">going against the grain </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">against norms </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">against everything </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">would lead me to happiness </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I didn't </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">yet I have no regrets </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-63578572552739009752023-05-21T03:17:00.005-07:002023-05-21T03:18:47.797-07:00Mornings<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Some mornings carry with them <br />
hapless cold <br />
some mornings come earlier than <br />
they are expected. <br />
Unwelcome. <br />
Some mornings needlessly arouse you<br />
from your deep slumber <br />
blissfully unaware that you would rather <br />
dream than face the harsh <br />
reality of having to live <br />
Because chasing after dreams, while awake <br />
is too much a hassle. Unwelcome <br />
and it is much easier to lie in bed <br />
and blame unforeseen circumstances <br />
for why you are still broke, poor, <br />
Unwanted </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-57629418281906734672023-05-17T03:45:00.003-07:002023-05-17T04:10:59.267-07:00Floating Boats <span style="font-family: arial;">I have reached a point in life </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">where I won't belittle, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">or deem it less, inferior </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">whatever floats one's boats </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Life is already too difficult </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">plenty of us are glad just to get by </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">often applauding themselves </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">when they wake in the morning </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and find that they did not find </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">courage to kill themselves last night </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I won't judge the crappy music </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">one listens to </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I won't judge the wicked people they go out </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">with </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I won't judge the drugs they ingest </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">because that would be the only things </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">keeping them happy </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">and what's more important than being happy? </span></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-46053959562377939992023-05-17T03:40:00.005-07:002023-05-17T03:40:56.904-07:00Not Anymore <span style="font-family: arial;">I won't hold your hand anymore </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I won't scale mountains </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">as I did before </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for I have earned nothing but pains </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I'll watch you trip and fall </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">but I won't extend my hand </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I know I won't mean nothing at all</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">when you get a few grand</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I won't jump over a mole hill </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Neither will I cross a puddle </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I won't care how you feel </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">for you are nothing but trouble </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I have fixed my eyes on the horizon </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Sadly, I do not catch a glimpse of your picture </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Gladly, I have escaped a prison </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Of fake and pretentious love </span></div><div><br /></div>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6302811992256101165.post-86972571683975164212023-05-16T23:10:00.003-07:002023-05-16T23:10:18.389-07:00The Real Church <p><span style="font-family: arial;"> It has been a sacred ambition of mine to start a church. The thought that I wouldn't find irrevocably gullible and easy-to-convince followers has held me back.</span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />In light of the recent events - Shakahola and what not - I think I might have been held back by something miniscule. Small. Minute. <br /><br />The truth is, I do not want go to heaven. I would find it hard to convince people to go to a place I have no intention of going. <br /><br />And this begs the question: how do you believe someone who tells you to starve so that you can go to heaven yet they themselves partake 7 meals a single day? <br /><br />Well, for me, even when I have taken six cups of keg, I will ask the simple question; <br /><br />"Sir, with all due respect, I'd like you to starve here with me."<br /><br />Same with that religion that encourages people to blow themselves into a million tiny pieces for them to acquire 70 virgins. I'd say, respectfully: <br /><br />"Sir, I'd like my virgins brought to me before I exit this world."<br /><br />Or,<br /><br />"Sir, if these virgins truly exist in the next world, what the hell are you still doing here? Show some leadership and go first."<br /><br />Even if heaven is such a beautiful place, I wouldn't want to suffer to go get there. I do not think Jesus wanted it that way. <br /><br />My church would solely be based on making the here-and-now a kind of heaven. Your dead self will deal with what will happen when the time comes. <br /><br />I would focus on ensuring that my followers live happy lives, can easily fulfill their needs (food, shelter, clothing, na wapige sherehe kila siku if possible) and be kind to one another. <br /><br />The motto of my church would be "Be wary of the overly religious, there are more skeletons on their closets than will ever be exhumed in Shakahola."</span>Kipchirchir Rophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282122494145987756noreply@blogger.com0