WHY WOULD YOU CARE?

And the rising sun brings forth uncertainties

A cold shiver runs through your spine

You loved a man that you barely knew

Now, you are almost sure he’s on his way

To lands yonder, having stolen your happiness

Nights find you sipping your favorite wine

Hurt and confused by all that’s happening

Scared too of thinking about the future

Drunk, you ask yourself, why would you care?

Yes, why would give a shit?

You are out of your mind, and you like it that way

You swear you’ll do whatever it takes

To get back even with him, whatever it takes

And when everything’s been done and dusted

He’ll live with regret for the rest of his life

But for now why would you care

When every has been broken and to trust

You must begin from scratch cautious like scientist

Yes, you are a scientist trying to experiment again

After a failed attempt, grave as leaving you broken hearted

But then you won’t care about anything anymore 

The Woes Of Long Distance Traveler

Every time I am travelling long distance, which of course is anywhere I can’t get in under three hours by walking, I often rue my forgetfulness. Like how can a sane man forget to pick his car from the show room? Of course I can’t go there now because parking fees have accumulated over time, and now I have to part with millions. This should serve as a polite reminder to people out there: GO GET YOUR CARS BEFORE YOU FACE THE SAME PREDICAMENT AS ME.  In the mean time let me get dirty water splashed in me whenever the angels above squirt incessantly up there. It is a deserved punishment, on top of others that I am about to tell.

From experience passed on by our elders, you may attract unspecified curse if you don board a matatu with RIFT in its name, although people with healthy imaginations have tried to give reasons for our affinity to anything rift. One of them is that other matatu Sacco’s will leave you in the bush. For that matter every time I am travelling I either board Great Rift Shuttle, or North Rift depending on the price of fare. On this particular day, I am in Great Rift Shuttle offices very early. It turns out that there were others who were earlier than me and had occupied all seats except 1x (for those who picked their cars before parking fees skyrocketed, it is the seat between the driver and the other passenger).

Well, for the uninitiated, that seat has rules which no one bothers to tell you.

1.       That seat is not very friendly for tall people.
2.        Better avoid that seat if you had too much nocturnal business
3.        It is advisable to inquire if the driver has a boil on his right buttock, which will force him to sit at an angle close tot you.
4.       The seat is EXTREMELY OUT OF BOUNDS if 1, 2 and 3 applies to you

And because no one had warned me about the rules which I have generously stated above, I found myself climbing a matatu that had that seat as if it had been reserved for me. Previously I had used that seat without any problems. But not on this journey. I am tall. I am sleepy. The driver seemed to have a boil on his buttock, so he sat way too close to me leaving too much space on the other end. One could get the impression that he was ferrying a ghost on that side. Every time he changed the gear, and he did it way too much, he would knock me in a very unpleasant way. In fact it could be considered illegal. He would knock me back and forth, until we reached somewhere I do not care to remember. The mat gets stopped by cops and all of us are ordered to get out. Apparently the driver had been over speeding. He checked the speed governor like a thousand times with a grimace on his face.

We got out and I had the chance to stretch my tall lanky legs that should have been competition with Rudisha, and not merely talking my brain to the library or other equally useless places. By useless I mean places that people get paid to get there first. I could get the library or class faster than anyone. I am talented in that. No one can beat me in that. My fastness seems to be rewarded in reverse. One time I got to class at six in the morning, only for my laptop to be stolen.

The cops do what they are renowned for. The driver haggles with one who seemed to be the boss. He did not have blue uniform. They both settle for 2k which the driver did not have. He asks me to give him so that he could refund when we got to Nairobi. I flatly refused, not because I did not have but because I wanted to punish him for having a boil on his buttock. Of course we cannot rule out the fact that I did not have the money. Another passenger gave him the money, killing my prayers. I wanted us to be sold to another matatu so that I could take another seat. Prayers are not my thing, I guess that was what god was trying to convey to me.

We proceed with the journey. Thank god I did not lose a body party, although I almost lost my mind. 

What more could I ask for?

That smile-your smile- appears to me

Like a well sculpted piece of art

It appears to me

Like God use its specifications

To create the sun

And in His generosity spoke

“Go ye and light his dull world”

And it was so

For you are shining in it, and owning it

What more could I ask for?

That love-your love- appears to me

In the silent throbs of my heart

It appears to me like a gold mine

A whole world of treasure

Treasure that mere mortals seek

And yet to find, a vanity

But you are here…with me… for me

You are my whole world, and you are shining it?

What more could I ask for? 

THE WANDERING WOMAN

Woman, a wanderer on earth seeking pleasure,

Almost often where there’s none,

May you be condemned to an eternity of solitude….

May your joy be stolen by little things

My your river quench many thirst

Except your own

Smile, and be alive with me

Sit with me on this wasting log

That fell with the drizzle last night

And listen to the thud on my chest

Trying too hard to resist your charms

Smile here, and be alive with me

Forget the fancy restaurants that city girls adore

It’s more fake than their brilliant Brazil hair

forget about the badly brewed brewed coffee

they cost an arm, yet cannot rival mursik

munch on this roasted maize

and be alive with me

stretch out your long lanky legs, stretch my imaginations

smile, reveal those pearly teeth for my dreams

ask me stupid questions, I will not write about them

talk to me about your childhood,

tell me anything, but do not tell me about your former boyfriend

appease my throbbing heart with your eternal bliss

be alive with me 

ANOTHER EMPTIER PART

A part of you feels hollow

End to end nothing but a void

Debauchery creeps in

It often finds solace within

You don’t look anyone in the eye

They’d peer into your soul’s lie

And how hard you acting your own life

How long you’ve since ceased living

Another empty part of your grows

As if by magic, ensures you’re bereft

With it you swim to newer lows

And you-you don’t even know when to begin

Not caring 

BETTER YET

Skip the nuance and insinuation

Better yet tell me from the hails

The cradle of your soul; my ails

Stop torturing my imagination

May be if I had oil wells

Or better yet gold mines

May be you wouldn’t think twice

Or better yet not think at all

Of availing that which my heart craves 

Should have a gun

Or better yet a nuclear weapon

For me to earn my respect

May be we’d be buddies