Here's To Us

 here's to us, 

who no longer carry on, 

as though we are special, 

because we know we aren't. 

here's to us, 

who find failure and loss

invigorating, 

but still carry on, 

as if we carry a thousand 

medals. 

here's to us, 

who have embraced

the notion of just being 

just being alive 

in a dreamless stance 

Of Death and Oblivion

 I am writing this by the cowshed, 

watching them nibble hay with relish, 

I do not wonder how it tastes - the hay, 

Of what use is to wonder how dry grass tastes? 

Instead, I am thinking about a grander theme 

-mortality 

Not only is life too short but it's 

like a candle in a whirlwind 

We don't think about our end often enough,

instead we live oblivious of that random 

day when someone of our vital organs 

Shall refuse to function, 

some of them will grind to a halt abruptly, 

some will make us endure pain, 

long-drawn visits to the infirmary, 

drain finances only to give up in the end, 

It will be painless for the departed, 

only the living will count the blessings, 

which might just that you are gone, and not them

Less and less to say

it bogs my head, somehow, 

and although I know it shouldn't, 

I am worried that 

each passing day, 

I have less and less words to say, 

and mostly to you, 

as such, our conversations are 

limited to how-are-yous - nothing more 

even then I don't anticipate your replies 

like i used to 

What's there to look forward to 

when silence is better? 

It no longer bogs me, too, 

to imagine you with someone else.

In fact, I'd encourage you to 

as though a burden will be lifted 

off my shoulders one last time 

for you won't look for me, 

for in doing so, you'll breach a wall of

silence, 

a wall I have hanged pictures of

perfect solitude 

Old times

 It feels like old times, 

but they all long gone, 

all gone with what we had 

back then, 

do I hate you?

no. Not when

there was something that 

kept me going 

Bird Songs

I dread mornings the 

way a jobless man does - 

without hope. 

Daylight comes with demands, 

with orders,

To partake in thinking about problems,

the very problems birds do not have,

Except, for birds, music is free, 

and, perhaps, intelligible 

ordained by nature, 

And whatever nature ordains, 

is by virtue pure 

A Decade Just Went By

A decade just went by, 

As if by the blink of an eye 

We are here, without much,

Except a sigh, 

Not of relief 

But a grim reminder 

Of something impending, 

Something huge 

which we dare not name, 

A decade just went by, 

and we haven't much to show, 

just gazing up the blue dome, 

sometimes seeing stars, 

but mostly dark clouds

We are alive, we whisper 

we hope in dire silence, 

that we have it in our bones 

to push further, 

Just a little further, 

Hoping we won't sigh again 

when a decade leaves us behind, again.

The Past Is A Jilted Ex

The past haunts in strange, sinister way, 

like a jilted ex, always lurking by the corner, 

As you stroll, trying to be oblivious to it's existence,

It springs from the bushes, startling 

And makes it clear it's not a prank, 

Heart thumping, dazed 

You are lost for words 

to explain or extricate oneself, 

or explain that she has no use anymore 

But she throws that devilish grin

as if to say 'you and me are bound by the hip, Forever '

Dire Mornings

 Some mornings, 

the alarm rattles you, 

launching into the abyss of the wakeful, 

dire mornings,

they force you to acknowledge that you aren't 

loved enough, 

that you must earn it to live amongst them,

by them, and for them,

dire mornings, 

force you to accept that your life doesn't truly belong to you, 

and so you crawl out of your bed, 

put on mask that's your smile 

And face the day like warriors of the yore, 

And you assure yourself that you will not dire 

in battle of life, 

that you won't live for mornings

that show up without meaning 

Alibis of Existence

 We need distractions aplenty, 

we need them not as a cure for

our chronic unhappiness, 

but to distract us from our own 

impending deaths 

The clock ticks ever so imperceptibly 

Towards unwelcome death 

We need alibis aplenty 

Some take to drugs to hurry the date 

with the grim reaper, 

some take to women, a few whom they

ever learn to love, 

And some live without the will to kill themselves, 

And, like pendulums, swing back and forth 

between drugs 

and loose women, 

seeking love from hopeless places 

You Have Not Met Them

 You have not met them yet, 

No, you haven't,

You haven't met that person 

who'll make you lose faith in humanity, 

Who will question your existence 

You have not met them 

In the meantime, enjoy 

What Did I Do?

She is somewhere, missing me

I am here wondering what 

things I did to her 

If anything, I lived unapologetically, 

and loved her 

in a carefree manner, 

Never at once concerned if she'd leave 

Little Money Debate

 I find myself debating with myself, 

I have very little money, 

And I am trying to find reasons to spend it, 

She's asked for some, 

Although I wanted her to so I can gleefully tell her I don't have it, 

I find no thrill in telling her so, 

The fact I'll say it from a point of lack 

Robs me that thrill 

were I in the proximity of a liquor den, 

I'd have had a cheap one 

And forgot my existence 

for a while 

The Making of a Poet

 I can't begin to imagine how 

it all began 

English language was as complex 

as nuclear science 

My buttocks suffered to my brain 

to even begin comprehending 

simple English sentence structure 

I hated every moment of those lessons 

The difference between there and their 

sticks to my to date 

Different Feeling

 I have not the same feeling 

I felt eons ago,

You sound the same,

bubbly in a way that ticked 

the soft spots reserved for you, 

I do remember, wearily, 

about those little things that irked me

those things I ignored just to be with you,

the things that made you say 

I understood you 

I did because there was none beside you 

I should not have 

And, perhaps, that's why you are alone 

Hellish Experience

It's a normal day, 

Sun rise signal anodyne chores, 

a punishment for daring to live, 

we toil in the sun drenched earth, 

only to prove why we deserve to live 

Except we are looking for things we 

know not, 

and that makes existence a hellish experience 

Life

 One morning you'll wake up 

as though you've discovered the 

secret of life,

What is it, you may ask 

Some say it's simple, 

But is it? 

Yes, it sure is.

As simple as breathing 

The Skeptic

 At first it felt 

as though you would make away 

with something a little precious, 

but then I did confuse it with material things, 

but overtime you stole much more 

much more precious, 

time, 

a dream, 

I felt bereft when you left 

I still think there was a better way 

to love 

Blocked

 She blocked you everywhere, 

But you were not aware, 

Until she told you 

How she wasted herself 

You were not thinking of her

Maybe you did, but it was not 

sufficient enough for you to worry 

and you didn't get in touch 

Calm

there's calmness, 

a lulling serenity,

in knowing yourself 

well enough to reckon 

that you're always on 

Your own 

when shit goes down 

A Woman With Balls

  We met a woman with balls. It is a privilege of sorts, because very few people ever do in their lifetime. How did we know, you may ask. We known- get ready for the answer - because she said it. "I have balls!" To quote her verbertim. And you must believe whatever a woman says, especially when she's drunk. And it's in the morning. And she has dreadlocks. 

It was a few months before the 2022 general elections. There was money to be burned. It was not surprising to find people drinking in the morning or in various stages of drunkenness. We were also in the process of catching up, although not on the benovelent pockets of a man or woman craving the debueached walls of Parliament. 

We were seated, silently ruminating about dreams we'd never attain. Unaware, we were on a brisk yet imperceptible march towards alcohol addiction or dependency, whichever you call it. We sipped our cheap beers, unbothered and not bothering anyone. 

It was in the morning, as indicated earlier. Nothing was badass. Nothing beats drinking in the morning, especially when serious tax payers are busy building the economy. We drunk during COVID-19, when all bars were closed. We were so serious no life-threatening disease would stop us. We were addicts then, but we never admitted to being addicts. Addiction happened to others, not us, we thought. 

You may think that all we did was drink. No, we dedicated some time to thinking about drinking. Sometimes we worked, a terribly inconvenient way to get money as opposed to being politicians' children. Besides, we were (still are) afraid of jail. 

It happened that the lady with balls was also an early drinker. She had an accomplice, a man. He talked recklessly about politics as if he was a man of great importance. We deduced later that he probably was a political operative sent to listen to the 'ground.' He pried. He prodded trying to elicit some political response from us. We kept quiet. Sometimes, when you are drinking in the morning, all you need is silence. 

He talked in English. He thought we were foreigners. Damn. We looked like foreigners. We kept quiet as if politics was something way beyond our grasp. As we ruminated, the lady with balls emerged from the bathroom. The smell of cigarette wafted through. We never cared too much although there was a distinct notice that forbade smoking inside the bar. The owner reprimanded her. 

It turned out that she hadn't been alone in the toilet, smoking. There was a man, a known local who fell on hard times due to addiction. He wasn't like us, we could never drink until we lose jobs. Such abominable things happen to others, not us. We sipped our beers to that.

When cornered, the lady pulled the woman card. She claimed that the owner of the bar was targeting her because she was a woman. As if the warning addressed women only, and not all women but her specifically. We watched quietly as she rumbled on and on about the unfairness of the notice against smoking. We'd never seen someone defend their right to smoke their way to lung cancer. We didn't intervene, nor interject at all. It was her against the sign. Which was pretty clear to us. 

She went further to claim that the bar wasn't even his, that he was riding on a woman's (a Woman like her who deserves to smoke where there's a sign prohibiting smoking) benovelence. That he was nothing without her. That without her he wouldn't be able to talk to her against ruining her lungs that belonged to a woman. And then she began attacking his manhood. At this point the man realized that she had stooped so low that his presence there was no longer required. How things can descend from smoking to manhood is a matter that baffled us. Secretly, we were glad our manhood wasn't under scrutiny although it should have. 

"I have more balls than you," she said laughing at her seemingly ingenious thought. "You only have two while I have thousands." She spoke with such conviction that you could have thought she was capable of impregnating a man.

She talked by herself sometimes supported by her colleague. She had so much to unpack, as though she was waiting for that precise moment. It's unfortunate that some drink while angling for a fight or confrontation. It's worse when it's a woman because, well, there's no reason to hit a Woman. 

Eventually she cooled down. The conversation tapered to some random irrelevant topics. However, there was only one question in our heads, which balls was she re

ferring to?