The Spider

the spider dexterously spins its web

its gangly feet hold it midair 

a slight touch of its web 

and the spider bungee jumps 

and when the danger passes 

it hoists itself up, like a crane 

but the question remains - 

why doesn't it get stuck in its own web?

The Writer and His Excuses

I will not write today, 

the wind blows in a sinister manner 

and has misaligned my creativity stars

I will not write today 

the table creaks in a way 

that grates my soul 

I will not write today 

I am yet to discover 

one chore I haven't done yet 

I will not write today 

something somewhere is just not right 

I can't point it out, so I will not write 

I will not write today 

for I am not anybody's favorite poet 

except I have the illusion 

that I was born with a gift of the gab 

I will not write today 

my mouse is not working 

I had never thought - to my dismay 

how much a mouse meant to my creativity 

The Songs

the songs that you both loved listening to,

echo in a distant with haunting clarity 

and the chaos that you once embraced 

becomes entangled with reality, 

muddying it, destroying all illusions 

and creates storms that you never, 

in a million years, anticipated, 

you become limp 

unaware, 

unsure, 

of what to do 

You Will Get Used To It

one day, just one day, 

you will get used to the cold embrace 

of loneliness 

you will cherish how numb you are 

when you think of them, 

how they hurt you 

how they took you for granted 

how they often forgot you are human 

 - a feeling human 

one day you will unfurl all the memories 

and scatter them like chaff 

and watch them disappear 

and feel nothing about it 

one day you will get used to not 

missing them 

and on that day, you will live as 

though they never existed 

and you will be free 

alone, but free 

The World

the world is a fiery ball of madness 

dizzyingly spinning in its orbit 

churning, relentlessly, days and nights 

some that happen, and plenty that don't 

the world is a fitting arena 

for both the wise and fools alike 

each dances to their tunes 

and leave their own distinct legacies 

when breath becomes air 

the world offers an equal chance 

it has always been fair like that 

but it never guarantees equal outcomes 

for none deserves more than they should 

none more than they are willing to give 

 

The Insane Man

there are no doubts about his insanity 

it doesn't even require a psychologist's intervention 

for no man has ever been apt 

to find excuses 

and where to lay blame 

for his impeccable inability 

to chase his dreams 

and, so, he does his things 

the old-versioned way

expecting different results 

Odd Humans

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 watoto wa siukuizi under your breath, because you are now too old.

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.

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.

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:

“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.

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.