the ever contemptuous alarm rings,
splitting the silence and your slumber
like firewood,
it jolts you to the world of never-enough
a world of never ending pursuits
money, love, happiness
you seek them despite the eerie laughter
a diabolic laugh telling you
of the vanity
of needless worry that assails you
for this world will swallow you whole
although ravaged, scarred and scalded
people will speak glowingly of your exploits
because you often obeyed the alarm
Wednesday, 12 February 2020
Random Musing
Find me by the roadside, dazed
Dreaming of paths that lead to you
Seeking to swim the rivulets
Of the numerous memories of us
Singing along to our favorite songs
Embracing worry out of our weary hearts
Promising each other eternities
Plucking love from our gazes
the penetrating gazes that ripped our senses
the promise of our beating hearts
screaming in our heads
boisterous that nothing will come between us
find me by the roadside seeking those moments
gazing at the distance hoping to see you
emerge from the darkness that swallowed
I long the glow in your eyes
when you look at me and say you love
because
because that is a feeling i can't ever trade
only because no could actually offer me money
for now, its only me who knows the value
Tuesday, 11 February 2020
What am I Writing About
it knocks and swiftly enters
finding you naked as the day you were born
you are alone
for so many dawns have come and gone
still, you live thinking
thinking thoughts in disjointed notes
and when you are not,
you are baring your soul to the deal
daring its fangs
to sink into you
and take you through
for nights have ceased appealing
neither days
but you don't to be ambushed, and be found naked
or donning torn underpants
finding you naked as the day you were born
you are alone
for so many dawns have come and gone
still, you live thinking
thinking thoughts in disjointed notes
and when you are not,
you are baring your soul to the deal
daring its fangs
to sink into you
and take you through
for nights have ceased appealing
neither days
but you don't to be ambushed, and be found naked
or donning torn underpants
Saturday, 8 February 2020
Vile Banter
Every sports betting enthusiast or gambler – if you choose a higher moral ground – has had this distinct moment in his career: staying late up the night refreshing a live score site or an app. Mind you, this is a feat he (most gamblers are of the male gender) never achieved while in school or if he is still in school has never made head or tail of the advantages unless it involves nudity and free drugs.
The sole purpose of staying late at night is to follow a
minute by minute progress of a team he bet on especially with school fees –
confirming he is a moron – or the last team on his betting list that will
guarantee a windfall. At that moment, there are many glittering things he will
buy, and the mere thought of possessing them is enough to give him an erection.
Unless you are a Kenyan politician, karma does not just sit
by and watch make lots of money without working hard for it. The reason could
that all the luck apportioned to the males in your lineage were all used up by
one of your fathers in his attempts to woo a fairy princess. And so, you will
lose your school fees, and, more painfully, your sleep.
It was a sure bet, you tell yourself, banging your head on a
hard surface. Once in a while, you’ll gather your friends or pretty much
anybody who is interested in your ‘team moja iliniangusha’ story, and go over
the minute details of your gambling exploits, hoping they’ll bow down their
heads and make you a ceremonial gambling god.
That’s never the case because they too have their own
stories, some better than yours especially if they did not bet on school fees.
You will hear of a story where Chelsea, despite having close to useless odds,
therefore poised to win by a landslide margin, gets held to a 2-2 draw by a
lowly Norwich.
“Nilikua nishinde 800k,” the man will tell you and you will
believe him even when he is lying. “It was the last team, and I thought I had
already had the money.” And that was the last time Chelsea was Chelsea to that
gambler. It officially morphed to Chelshit, even if you are a diehard supporter
and were once willing to bet on your own two balls – biological ones just for
the sake of arsenal fans.
The advent of betting added another dimension to football
fanaticism: crude and vile banter. It is no longer about how a team plays shitty
football, but about how that shitty football prevented me from winning a
windfall, thereby changing my fortunes and the fortunes of all the generations
after me, even up to the fifth one. And the emotions expended in it is so real
that it can cut through steel reinforced concrete.
Gone are the days when a game of football was just that.
Despite the fact that Manchester United is a limping team, no self-respecting
fan will bet against it even though they blatantly and boisterously talk about
its complete shittiness. It is often a welcome loss in the case that it has
lost and thereby making one lose money, because it only confirms that you have
always passionately hated Man U, and there’s no way you could ever ever bet on
such a loser team. You call it names referring to a donkeys gonads.
Sometimes, while watching a game of football, and it is open
consensus that majority of the patrons have bet on a certain team, be sure that
banter is legally prohibited on that team people have bet on. These are people
capable of rage that can move mountains. They’ll order your swift removal from
the place because you are causing financial disturbance in manner likely to
cause economic depression. Worse still, they could have been sent by their
wives to bring a packet of milk and decided to bet on a team they were sure to
win.
Facing the danger of being called stupid for the hundredth
time, the man of the house will do everything to bend the force of nature just
to make sure he retains his money, but plus a little more. Often, dharma (the
law of cause and effect) sits by and calls the man stupid in advance, making
sure Barcelona, with odds of 1.2, losing miserably to Las Palmas. A one-nil
loss. No over 2.5, no Messi goal.
And in that state of utter disappointment, the least that
man can do, even though he can constitutionally punch you, is call Barcelana by certain organs found in the nether
regions, which, by definition are overused. And this is not reserved only to the moment he lost his money, but
eternally. Even if Barcelona wins by ten goals, he will find something he
thinks is deragatory and says with Miguna’s conviction. And he will feel good
about until you tell him about how shitty Chelsea is, and he happens to be a
Chelsea fan.
Thursday, 6 February 2020
He Thinks of You Till it Hurts
He sits in silent contemplation,
Turning thoughts of you,
The same thoughts of your loveliness
Your timeless laughter ringing in his head,
Echoing inside the void created by your absence,
And emptiness that fillas every part of his body
But he sits still, thinking
Of your eyes boring into his,
Of your hands tracing patterns of pleasure
on his skin
He thinks until your absence hurts
He misses you, but you are in a parallel universe
Getting concerned with problems unique with your world
Turning thoughts of you,
The same thoughts of your loveliness
Your timeless laughter ringing in his head,
Echoing inside the void created by your absence,
And emptiness that fillas every part of his body
But he sits still, thinking
Of your eyes boring into his,
Of your hands tracing patterns of pleasure
on his skin
He thinks until your absence hurts
He misses you, but you are in a parallel universe
Getting concerned with problems unique with your world
The Picture
It’s still you, the very lady I fell for,
The tooth gap, a door to your laughter
A thousand lives spring from your feet
I want to love you today,
And tomorrow a little more
Do not hoard your love to make me change
Be there for me when I need you
And I’ll be there when you need me
Everything will fall into place
A Sinner's Funeral
A palpable somber mood,
Wrung the air of oxygen,
Beckoned the departed to reveal secrets,
Secrets hoarded by the confined body
Still as though in
deep slumber
Mourners wondered where the destiny,
The mortal destiny of man
A destiny vast yet tiny as a coffin
As mourner after
mourner
Extolled the virtues of the departed
And prayed for her soul
As it met God’s ever just judgment
Was a her lack of religiosity the greatest sin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)