ONE OF THOSE DAYS 💦

On days like these,
I can’t help but think of Lions, Tigers and whatnot,
Not because I’m in to nature or big cats for that matter,
But because sometimes I be wilding.

I could think of antelopes and deers,

But no!
You of all people know me ni fisi (hyena),
Why deers?
Because, just like your number one mobile service provider, you are my dear customer.

Damn, that was corny! 😂😂

I bet one could cook githeri with that,
Real cheesy that one!
You could have it on your pizza too.
(For my African brejins, please read that as Pitsa, Thanks.)

Back to you my dear,

Speaking of back,
Would you like some oil on that?
Yes, I match your nasty,
I could take shots off your back,
And if you’re not in to day drinking,
I could offer back shots instead.

Apologies, I’m typing but my pen is,

Well, my pen is… wilding today,
This is one of those days.

So about this quarantine,

Are you in to keeping fit during this time?
Because I sure could drive if you ride,
I like nut in my pie btw,

Apologies if I’m cumming on too strong,

Life can be rough on the fast lane,

And guess what?

So can I.

I DO

If things were different,
I’d be you and you Me,
Time would stand still for me to let you in, You’d escapade my deepest thoughts,
And come to understand that,
My best words are yet to come,
For when they do,
If at all they ever do,
Their weight would sink you deeper in to my facade.

And maybe,
Just maybe…
I’d be one with facts,
Facts that your heart lies with another,
Yes I know about him
And that you & I aren’t goals
We…
Wait,
There is no We!

I now know where I’m going wrong.

DEADLY INK – DEAD LINK

When the sun sets

And thy black regalia symbolise your bids

Thou shalt reminisce on skipped & missed hads

With regret over should haves & did nots

My gravestone would be as alive as I would be

And the roses that beautify it as alive as I

And thy words would fall not to my deaf but my dead ears

Your truth as cold as the lonely nights

And your pretence as real as their drawn eye brows

False claims from real friends

Drowned by hard core truth from a stranger’s face.

BITCH BY THE BEACH

When the tides wash upon the sea and the sand ushers my message to the shores of foreign lands, I grace the beaches in early morning with the hope that I will hear the messages of fellow crazed, lonely, & phony artistes enslaved by their own presumed strengths; as perceived by the world.

I am neither shocked nor moved by the salty taste of the ocean’s waters. Science has us moving with the fact that diverse elements contribute toward the same but I’m stuck and sailing with the idea that the handful sands of people that cry by water points; lakes, rivers, ponds, seas and oceans all contribute to the salty taste.

I walk in to the open sea until the waters are neck high and I take a dive. I do not cringe upon the forceful entry of the waters in to my mouth.

The taste is not at all pleasant but I relish the feel. It feeds my soul, comforts me that I am not alone, raises my spirit and helps me conform back to my true being.

I yearn to not only immerse myself in it but to also drown and live a life of content.

Yes, we are one big family united by the gaseous ink bottles stashed in our heads under the notion that they’re forms of art.

We seclude ourselves and close out or exclude both those who pretend to care and those that care too not because we or they are selfish but because they do not care enough to break our seals.

We are easy to talk to, that’s why we talk to the world and not individuals. Why? It is because individuals have their own ideologies of how perfect & blessed we are.

Yet the outside world that has no immediate connection easily identifies the chink in our armours and seemingly care to the needed extent.

Walukana.