‘tis but a thing she does
The female assassin
They say that poison is her weapon… maybe on occasion
But that is a level she’s surpassing
You see, what they fail to understand is that she doesn't take lives for vengeance
‘tis but a profession
The beautiful, tantalizing female killer
Her male victim’s obsession
One minute she’s a runway model… with her devilishly sinful grin
A smile so engrossingly enticing… full, red lips that cut across her face playfully
Against her flawlessly peaceful skin
One word for that…’killer’
Forbidden pleasures… blissful sin
She’s taken out big names… maybe even one or two heads of state
To dinners she’s escorted these men… and later on left them in their deadest state
She walks through the front door, but when leaving she can scale windows
Agility is her forte… ‘Man killer’ she is
The black widow…
In a red dress
You may be reading this thinking you can never fall prey to her seductive tentacles
‘tis an argument I do not even wish to get into
I digress.

The snowman to the scarecrow, “Hahahaha you’re just a stick figure…. and your hair’s straw.”
The scarecrow to the snowman, “Watch who you talk about whenever you open your mouth, for all the coldness in your words will still melt to the ground along with you as soon as the sun comes out.”
Owned!
“You’re such a chump…” the snowman said… “…two words for your ancestry, tree stump.” the snowman said
“You’re fat… you have a carrot for a nose, and what’s up with that stupid green and red coloured hat?” said the scarecrow
Well played
“I work all year round… you’re here for a season, did you really think you could hold your ground against someone that is here for a reason?” the scarecrow added
The snowman cringed, but then had a comeback
“At least I don’t wear the same filthy clothes every day of the year… what? Are you trying to bring ‘brown’ back?”
Point for Snowman
“It’s better than being fat and going naked.” Scarecrow brought it back

Scarecrow is consistently winning right? I know… I know man!
If he made you a fan, stick around for an autograph… I will throw in mine too
For more on the war of words between these two
Watch this space for round two.

PLANET NAIROBI (When the sun goes down)
Nur…
They were on the verge of losing this battle… it was only a matter of time, and he knew that. Through the window, he saw them advance, with a fierce swiftness that would have put anyone opposed to them at unease. Trembling uncontrollably, he reached for his weapon and held it firmly, ready to martyr himself for his family’s honour and legacy if need be. For they were not, and never would be known as a family of cowards, they were royalty... and he would rather go down fighting than cowering, that was the bottom line. But he knew that his sword, as well forged as it was, would be no match for Rath and his five hundred man strong battalion. So, biting his lower lip he waited for the pounding footsteps to reach the top of the stairs where he stood, the one solitary guardian to the throne. Martyrdom was his destiny.
“Let he that stands between Rath and the throne fall like the city walls!” Rath’s dominant voice bellowed as it got closer, too close for comfort.
He braced himself.
Suddenly, the doors burst open. And Nur... Prince Nur, finally got to come face to face with the scourge that had terrorised the lands of the sea for so long. A man of whom he had heard about from stories as a child growing up. A man that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. Nur realised that he had always been afraid of Rath, long before this moment, how was he supposed to fight this man when he was clearly at a disadvantage? For it was common knowledge that to go into battle afraid, was to go into battle prepared to lose.
Rath was a gigantic figure, and exuded the air of one who was accustomed to crushing his opponents and hadn’t experienced defeat in a while... if not ever. This man stood at almost eight feet tall, with rock hard muscles that seemed to pile on top of more muscle, threatening to tear through his dark skin. His long locks of unkempt hair fell over a face that could only be described as menacing. He had a permanent scowl that was complimented by his black, soulless eyes. And as they stared each other down, Nur couldn’t ignore the presence of sheer evil he saw in those eyes, a shiver of dread ran down his spine. He raised his blade.
“A child?” Rath barked, “A petulant child? Is that what this Kingdom’s defences have come down to? An infant?” He waved a dismissive hand at Nur.
“A prince!” Nur responded defiantly, raising his blade even higher and more confidently. This man may have been the epitome of terror, but Nur would be ****** if he was going to be talked down to in this manner, this was his palace.
“A prince huh? Prince Nur I presume? Your father was a brave man, I respected him. Even if I met his acquaintance only for a couple of minutes, before I slaughtered him. But I do respect a king that fights alongside his men, as opposed to other cowards I’ve had the pleasure of killing that had barricaded themselves in their chambers and let others fight their battles for them. King Thur was a rare breed... but a dead one all the same.” He laughed remorselessly as he said this. “And soon you will get to join your warrior father foolish one.”
Nur lost all sense of fear. Infuriated, his nostrils flared as he swung the blade with all the ferocity he could muster, slicing deep into Rath’s right forearm. Time slowed to syrup as he saw his adversary’s blood stain the sword, but realising that it wasn’t a fatal strike, he turned around swiftly, switching his stance just in time to see Rath’s massive blade come down on his head. Then there was a deathly silence.
The afterlife was nothing like he had pictured. It smelt of... he couldn’t quite place that peculiar smell. It wasn’t pleasant, but neither was it unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Then he turned around and saw her. He deduced that she was probably the source of the smell. He noticed that smoke came out of her nostrils and mouth every few seconds after lifting a sticklike object to her lips. Nur mused at how wrong the high priest in their kingdom had been when he spoke about the place in the sun... the afterlife. It wasn’t anything like he had described.
But wait a minute! He realised that the sun was still above him, in the sky. He could see it. He could feel it on his skin. So WHERE WAS HE? He felt dizzy, unable to comprehend. Only a minute ago he was in the royal palace, facing certain death. And now he was... he didn’t know where he was, or even what he was. Was he dead? Transcended? Was this just his soul? If so, then how come he still had his senses? All these questions raced through his mind at the same time. He turned toward the lady, who seemed unaware of his presence. She was tall and very light skinned compared to him and her hair was tied in ponytail at the back of her head. He couldn’t make sense of her attire though, she seemed to wear a lot of clothing, garment over garment that covered her arms and legs. She was also extremely beautiful and had a slim womanly body most warriors would **** for, he noted, and felt himself flush. He tried to see what she was squinting so intently at and concluded that she was just staring into space as she drew, he realised now, on the tiny stick and blew out more smoke. That was when he noticed how high up they were, this palace stood almost five times as high as theirs. It was overwhelming to say the least.  He got up and walked over to her, deciding to leave his blade behind so as not to come off as a threat.
“Greetings?” He said politely. She jumped as if she had just seen a ghost, dropping the stick she was holding. He had clearly startled her, so he took a step back lifting his hands in the air to signify that he meant her no harm. She breathed rapidly and began to speak just as rapidly in a foreign tongue. Nur couldn’t understand what she was saying, but the hostility in her tone and her demeanour was hard to miss. He took another step back, ready to defend himself from an attack if need be. He had heard tales of an island with warrior women who could match, and beat, even the strongest male adversary in combat. He decided to tread cautiously.


Nasim...
Nasim Naikuni was beyond peeved. Who was this ******?  He had scared her half to death and almost made her fall off the roof, not to mention burn her favourite grey, three thousand shilling trouser suite when she dropped the cigarette. And what annoyed her even more was that he didn’t seem to register how ******* she was. He just stood there with a blank expression on his face, like a schoolboy waiting for his mistake to be explained to him. Nasim couldn’t stand slow people, they got under her skin. She was yelling at the top of her lungs, which was taxing to say the least, seeing as she had been smoking just seconds ago.
“Are you slow?” She shouted, tapping at her temple repeatedly. “What makes you think you can sneak up on me like that you fool? You almost killed me. Do you realise that?” Then she stopped and studied him, out of breath. She noticed that he seemed unable to understand English and so she switched to Swahili, “Nini mbaya na wewe?” What’s wrong with you? Still there was no response.
She gave him a once over. He dressed strangely. His large, golden brown pants that fluttered in the wind seemed to have been made from an expensive material, though it was like no material she’d laid eyes on before. It bordered somewhere between silk and suede. His shirt was also made of a similar material, but leather brown in colour, matching his leather boots that were laced and reached just under the knee. He stood an inch or two shorter than she did, but she guessed that was probably because she was in heels. He had long hair that seemed to fall halfway down his back in one long braid. He looked almost exotic as he tried to communicate, but she couldn’t place the language or his ethnicity, for his skin-tone was chocolate brown but his hair looked almost like an Asian’s, dark and straight. He spoke in a tongue she had never heard before. There was also something really classy about this boy, whom she guessed to be around eighteen years of age or so. It was like looking at a darker, more pampered version of Sinbad the sailor.
Nasim relaxed a little and decided to give the fellow a chance to introduce himself, in whatever way he intended to do so. He seemed to pick up on this and started explaining something to her, making a couple of gestures, and at some point she thought she saw him mimic a fight, and then  point to the sky. Nasim still didn’t know what he was talking about, but felt a semblance of communication begin to take form. He directed her attention to another part of the roof, probably where he had approached her from. And she saw the blade! With catlike agility she swung her purse at him, the blow caught him square on the jaw with a thud! The bottle of perfume she religiously carried around in it serving a different purpose on this day. He hadn’t seen it coming and so had no chance of stopping it. He staggered backwards as she made a run for it toward the staircase but felt a hand grab her ankle causing her to tumble onto the hot cement floor. At that moment her heart sank, for she knew that she was done for.


Nur...
Nur was perplexed, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the assault. The lady had seemed to be calming down, but all of a sudden she had lunged at him with a weapon he had first assumed to be a bag. Though, she didn’t strike with the strength that a warrior would have, and also had made an attempt to flee. This told him two things. One, she wasn’t accustomed to combat... and two, she had attacked more out of fear than strife. Which meant that she posed no immediate threat to him. Also, she was the only person he had met so far and his only hope of figuring out where he was. He couldn’t afford to lose her, not just yet, so he decided to try something he was ashamed he hadn’t thought of sooner. Nur spoke into her head.
‘I mean you no harm.’  He said, and waited. No response. He tried again, concentrating harder this time. ‘Can you hear me? I mean you no harm’
‘LET ME GOOO!’  Her thoughts screamed.
He could understand her, they had made a connection. Progress...

One year later. Nasim...
“Good afternoon people? You’re hangin’ out with me Nasim Naikuni on your favourite show Voices, where you can throw any question you have regarding life... and living it, at me and the voices in my head will answer them for you... yeah, you heard right, the voices in my head. I’ll be takin’ your calls for the next hour. Let’s begin shall we?” Nasim spoke into the microphone just before a voice-over added...
“NASIM NAIKUNI, THE ONLY RADIO PRESENTER THAT’S LITERALLY GONE BONKERS!” And then was followed by some rock music. ‘So what?... I’m still a rock star... ’ Pink’s lyrics belted out as Nasim removed her headphones to take a breather before she talked to her first caller. A breather... and also to have a bit of a chat with the voice in her head. She walked out of the studio into a corridor where she was out of sight, and concentrated, her eyes crinkling from the effort.
‘Hey, are you there?’
‘Uh huh.’ The prince replied.
‘Okay, we’re on in roughly three minutes. Make me look good babes’
‘Don’t I always?’
‘True dat. What are you doing?’
‘Breakfast.’
‘It’s one in the afternoon... ’
‘This is not my planet, therefore I’m not obliged to follow its rules. I can have a one o’clock breakfast if I want to.’
‘Brunch.’
‘What?’
‘Brunch, what your having would be brunch. Breakfast... aaand lunch?’
‘You see? You get all high and mighty on me about this and you even have a name for it? If it is so wrong to have breakfast at this time, then why would your people give the meal a name? I’m just saying.’ Nur said mockingly.
‘I give up’ She replied with a sigh.
‘Nas... Nas?’
Silence.
She walked back into the studio.
“Caller... you’re on air. Shoot.” Nasim said softly, leaning into the microphone.
“Hey Nasim, lovely job you’re doing by the way.”
“Why thank you dear, but I don’t deserve all the credit you know?”
“Yeah I know... you and the voices in your head... ha-ha! Anyway my name is George, and I’m kinda’ in a predicament at the moment. You see, I have a wife and a family... two kids, but I kinda’ got into this relationship outta’... obligation as opposed to real love...”
“Obligation?”
“Yes. I met my wife five years ago in uni’ and we dated. But looking back, I only got into the relationship because I felt I’d led her on and she loved me soo much, I just couldn’t disappoint her. So I got stuck in a phony relationship, at least on my part. Next thing I know, we are pregnant and... It’s been we ever since.”
“So you want to what? Get out of your marriage?”
“I want to be with the person I truly love...”
“Hooo... **! Scoreboard! Now we have lift off. And how long have you known this person that you truly love George?” She said this with a tinge of amusement in her voice.
“Six years... and we’ve been going out for the past two.” He sounded ashamed.
‘He sounds ashamed.’ She heard Nur say observationally.
‘No kidding.’ She retorted.
(In the past year or so, Nasim and Nur had come to an understanding somewhat. After she had struck him with her purse and the little scuffle they’d had on the rooftop, and after convincing herself that she wasn’t going crazy... or that the cigarette she had been smoking wasn’t laced with marijuana or some other hallucinogen, she finally gave in and listened to the voice speaking to her in her thoughts.
‘Please, just give me a chance to explain. I need your help lady!’ He sounded desperate.
She felt sorry for him, but still suspected she could be going nuts.
He continued. ‘I don’t know where I am. My father is dead and I don’t know where I am or how I arrived here, and you’re the only one that can help me right now...’
Nasim, touched now, replied. “How am I supposed to do that? And how are you doing this telepathy thing? Are you really doing this?” She shook her head violently, like a wet dog trying to dry itself, “I’m very confused right now.”
He looked even more confused. ‘Talk to me in my head, I think it is the only way we can communicate with each other.’
She didn’t know how to.
‘It’s simple, concentrate.’ He said reassuringly.
She tried. Still nothing.
‘I could hear you a moment ago, I don’t understand. Let’s try this slowly, repeat after me... Nur.’ He told her.
She heard him, and was thinking what?
He repeated, ‘Nur.’
She tried thinking the word he’d asked her to repeat as hard as she could but he didn’t seem to be getting anything. She decided that the cigarette must have been laced with something. Here she was, on the roof top of her work building trying to master telepathy, with a stranger who just happened to own a sword. This had to be a dream, a nightmare.
‘I must be high.’
‘Yes! Yes! You’re high!’ She heard the excited reply.
‘What?’
‘You did it!’ Nur said happily, ‘you figured it out. And yes, I was also meaning to ask you about how high we are.’
She had done it. Nasim could hear him and answer back, she felt oddly proud of this accomplishment. Then she asked puzzled. ‘High? You get high?’
‘I am high.’ Came the naive reply.
‘Oh...’
‘Why are we so high up? The palaces on our island are half the size of yours, are you that many in your palace that you need to build it so tall?’
Then she understood. And laughed... ‘Who are you? And how did you get here?’
‘My name is Nur... Prince Nur... how I got here? That’s what I’m trying to find out.’ He was being honest.
And thus begun an adventurous relationship between the two. Nasim took him to her apartment that day, passing curious and disapproving looks all the way. The most difficult part being trying to explain to her boss why she was coming from the roof in the company of someone who dressed like a ******, as he put it. She made up something. And he gave her one of those I’ll accept your story just because... looks. Nasim found that hilarious. But she was glad she had asked Nur to leave the sword behind to be recovered later. That would have been a tad difficult to explain. They got to her apartment block and were met by more disapproving looks from a group of nosey old women, the type that love to mind everyone else’s business but their own, as they walked to the lift. And when they got into apartment F6 on the second floor, she introduced Nu

I have an issue
One that weighs heavily upon my heart
One that, if left unchecked, threatens to tear our social moral fiber apart
An issue I will express in English, with some help from my old friend Swahili
Hii imenisumbua akili, kwa hivyo kuiongelea ni kitu tunastahili
Hii story ya immorality tunaichukulia so so light
Dem akiji'expose kidogo mbele ya kamera haina mseo, tunampandisha cheo kwa society, all of a sudden ye ni socialite
The new cool, eti ‘good girl gone bad’
Hiyo njaro siyo polite
We have a lot more to live for than that which we seem to be aware of
It’s not always about a good time, or lack thereof
Our reputation as a culture I believe is something we badly need to take care of
Siyo game
Siyo Jokes
Si eti mambo na fame
It shouldn’t just be about who drinks, who smokes, who vomits and who chokes
Hiyo lifestyle siyo dope
Na siyo right
Six hundred and seventy something ways to die… choose one
I refuse to go… speeding down a highway, drunk out of my mind, on another booz run
However, I may not exactly be the right person to point out how messed up you are
On a scale of one to ten?
I’m probably as guilty as you are
*******!

I urge that we make ourselves proud… of us
I urge that we go into and come out of these polls sober minded, responsible, uncorrupted, without ‘fight’ or ‘fuss’
Uncorrupted
I urge that a joyous feeling of an evolving nation moving forward be the only thing we can, in hindsight, say erupted… this upcoming Monday, the following Tuesday
I would like to state that a people gunning for peace in these coming days is the only topic I would like to be following in the news today
We should see what’s coming as the change of guard it is… and not as a dreaded doomsday
You may be black… I may be white, or vice versa… and that’s alright
We shouldn't even be asking ourselves “Who’s grey?”
I will vote with one heart for one country… my country
A country in which I’m confident can keep the peace, you see, we’re kind of good at this
I know this because we've had quite a bit of practice
I know this because deep down we all want to make peaceful transitions be the Kenyan way
I know, I hope… and whenever necessary, I pray
Happy voting.

We are a funny lot
As in, seriously… we delve into ‘funny’ a lot
Very rarely does a day go by
That I don’t come across something that cracks my funny bone…
Or as a Kenyan would put it ‘makes me just die!’
Body bag
The Kenyan
This specimen of human is always quick and capable of ridiculing anyone’s apparent "swag"
Everyone gets a turn here… so do not huff when you’re ‘it’
There must be a reason you joined this dissing game… this unique Kenyan version of ‘tag’
Just remember
The rules are simple, really
Keep it above the belt, unless upon exception...
They also clearly allow one to feign concession
Yes, these rules highly encourage strategic deception
Kind of like what our politicians do before the main election
But also if you paint a target on your back… you will get shot at...
By everyone… and I mean everyone
I haven’t seen anyone do that and elude the social media firing squad yet
Computers and phones in this case, acting as the internet's version of the bayonet
And watch closely if you’re ‘it’… for the inevitable, the friends that will stab you in the back
It’s bound to happen, as much as this may ****
The memes will come by the truck load… in what may seem like a self driven truck…
With a life of its own
Just ask Susan Mirfat
The most recently owned!
We’re a funny lot I tell you
Loose cannons almost
Our leaders’ shenanigans, our parents’ semantics and our own clownish antics…
Prove that despite…
How mature as a country we've become…
We’re still all just a bunch of children, inside.

The allure of everything bad

The allure of vices that nullify circumstances which make living seem sad

The 'Hollywood' cigarette, the hard liquor... *******, crystal ****

All very romanticized but in reality, isn't that really just a self-induced slow death?

We don't talk about it, until we watch from the sidelines

If only for a second

When partaking one repeats quotes like 'it is what it is'

'I am not a quitter'

You've built up a tolerance for one, so you beckon

The bartender to pour you a second

Social trend like a hot topic on twitter

So now you want more

You ignorantly jab the needle inside you like you don't know what your signing up for

In a sense you don't, for you choose not to

Addiction entraps... but who?

Not you

And the moment you decide to go cold turkey

It appears more enticing in another movie, or in the hands of a fellow druggie

Impossible to reject

Relapse... rubber band effect

Yet even he that doesn't use gets a little curious

One day the stress becomes too much to handle, he's peeved

He's furious

He's heard of pills sold over the counter, and also of those available from dusty cobwebbed shelves

By dealers with hollowed out eyes, ghosts of their former selves

In an alternate reality

Where 'it's all good'

It's all about finding solace in one happy, high family... 'It's all hood'

A distorted image of zoned out smiling faces

Floating around in temporary elation

These vices have comforted and haunted many, way before our so called '******* generation'

The druggie, the alcoholic or the *** addict you see... could be your's or someone else's dad

Or it could very well be you or me

Seduced by the allure of everything bad

I write this expecting it to be misunderstood by many...

For a judgement between bad and good

I myself could be affiliated to one of these vices... or many

Someone reading this may have already renamed it 'The allure of everything good'.

Whether it happens next... or this year

The vote

In memory of the last time I shed 'this tear'

And wrote... a piece

For the blood that flooded the streets

When in vain we sought

For calm... for peace

In a situation that was out of our control

A raging fire that almost engulfed and burnt all

When we all watched our motherland fall

Almost

When darkness threatened to blind all... or most...

Kenyans

When a neighbour would suddenly become a stranger... a ghost

Alien

Incited by the devil's seed

Damien

Brothers, sisters overcome by evil... greed

The same one...

That would then start a war... civil

And feed... off it

I, one individual Kenyan plead

That this time we say no to violence

We 'off it'

Let the disgruntled nurse his frustrations in silence

No blood for 'office'

And let us not get coaxed into foolish acts

To ourselves, we owe this

Let hatchets be buried away with the bones

Old ghosts can't haunt us

I shed a tear for peace this... or next year

Deaf ear to he that tries to taunt us

'Make the right choice'

I hope I reach many

And many hear my one voice

But this message cannot just be spread by me... so its 'we'

We can do it, and God wills it

Let it be

That we journey toward serenity

To a better tomorrow... come with me

The best way I can encourage my brothers and sisters

Is through poetry

For as a country and a culture we are destined to soar sky high

Thus... 'the pride of Africa'

We should always be

Peace.

This is the story of a man
The story of a brilliant man
Most men would call him a resilient man
A man of principle and logic
A man who’s principles may defy logic
A man from whom come words with magic
And illusion
The illusion is the man
The illusion is a brilliant man
The illusion would make him appear a resilient man
The illusion of principle and logic
The illusion of principles that appear to defy logic
The illusion is this ‘brilliant man’s’ magic
And deceit
This deceit that is the illusion of the man
This deceit that is the illusion of the man’s brilliance
Of his resilience
Of his principle
Of his logic
The deceit of his principles that apparently defy all levels of logic… that seem to be a notch above our regular reasoning
The deceit of his oratory magic that enthralls us all
Day in, day out
Season out, season in
You know who I’m talking about…
That politician that fooled us for too long, and very soon, will be on his way out.

Every piece I write
Is a piece of me…
Of the turmoil, the calm, the violence… or the peace in me
I wonder, when I am dead… how shall they remember me?
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my…
Diary
I have written my whole life down one would notice, if one paid attention
Every frustration, every smile, every frown… written down more out of self expression
Than to seek attention
Pieces and records of what I was feeling or thinking at particular times and dates... I could care less if they made a wrong impression
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my…
Diary
I’m past trying to get published
Pouring one’s soul into a piece, just for it to get rubbished?
That’s not for me… I have too much respect for my poetry
It may not be in print… but when I read something I wrote a year ago I see it right there, my personality… it’s right there, and I know it’s me
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my …
Diary
If you read through all my work
You read through me… I could even risk it being said that whoever has done so
Knows who I was, who I am… and maybe even who I will be
That person will know… does know… and that person knew me
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my…
Diary
And one thing that both the old and the new me
Agree on
Is that…
We are and probably always will be…
Content…
With all the content…
In our diary.

***!
Way to fleece…
A taxpayer
They’ve got us singing the blues
And we’re not down for all that jazz*… leave that to the Sax player
We remain mind boggled by these selfish ‘leaders’
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… ‘Dude! Way to bleed us!’
We’re already scraping the floor for crumbs… are they trying to run our finances into the ground?
“You work for us you pompous ******-bags, it’s not the other way around...”
Midnight meetings in secretive silence
We preferred it when their nonsense made a sound
We’re ashamed and infuriated
But what makes it worse is that we’re not surprised
It’s like they strive to be truly hated… and yes, they've  gotten themselves despised
More and more by the day
As each day goes by
We would throw them all out if we could
And our actions would be understood
Unfortunately we can’t do this for they are skilled at defiance
Masters of political science
And at it they are that good
Liars
Cheats
The campaigning politician...
Seducing us with deceit when he comes out on the street
To make his energetic speech
And then...
The elected Member of Parliament...
Only campaigns for his financial gain
Once he’s assured that for a whole term his position is permanent
That’s where they've slipped up, and I thought they were a smart lot
Schemious at least
Such a wrong move in an election year
Do they not fear… getting dropped by the voter?
Two hundred and twenty four MP’s… dead weight in deep water
And can’t swim
Should they have asked for my advice prior, I would have told them to simply cease and desist
“Do not dive in…”.

A tear for peace is a tear worth shedding
‘Blood for peace’ is not
That’s just a selfish message sent out, a message written in red ink
This is as true as the sun is hot
A tear for peace is a tear for these streets
To disregard violence and cease…
The hate speech and incitement
That ugly place
That the tongues of certain guys went
While we were thinking… “Shut up! Please!”
I campaign for the indictment of these…
Former citizens and apparent ‘leaders’
Who relinquished their right to call themselves Kenyans the moment they decided to bleed us… literally
I root for he… or she that will bring sustenance and feed us
With that which we need most
And so I task him… or task her
With the responsibility of ensuring that Kenya as a country and as a people
Work tirelessly toward a better tomorrow and prosper
And let these hate campaigners find themselves behind bars
So they can get our message loud and clear
And I will celebrate in my own way, maybe step into a nice bar…
And buy myself a beer
But for now I will keep praying for peace and still shed that tear
And ask my fellow countrymen to join me in prayer
As we wait for next year.

A breath before my next step
Actually no
I'm just going to take it
I will not think twice… or worry about whether or not I’ll make it
I'm just going to take it

A calculation before the next leap
Not necessary… I'll just charge with the blind bravado of fighting bull, as opposed to the clueless stupidity of a sheep
And yes, I realize that the blind can be clueless… and the brave can be stupid
But jumping into life is just like jumping into love and either being realistically passionate about it… or believing in Cupid… one of the two is just stupid
Just to clarify, if you actually believe in a chubby flying baby with a bow and arrow… dude?... Stupid!

Anyway, a thought before my next move
Ain't nobody got time for that!… while you're still thinking about it they will shove you out of the way all the while yelling “MOVE!”
You have the ability inside you
Subconsciously, but you can still feel it… it’s quite distinct
Don't overthink it, make the move out of pure instinct

If you can effortlessly do it… the better for you
On the other hand
If you are able to put in more effort, less doubt… allow the faith you have in yourself to stand out
Fill you up with confidence, then understand… it would be better for you
To just stand up, take that step… leap over that obstacle… and outsmart them on the next move, friend... just do it.

Anything is possible...
Even the impossible
Note that I said ‘the impossible’
And not ‘the seemingly impossible’...
This reality to me has always seemed plausible
Even when I was cold and hard-hearted, when inside my chest there was an icicle
This kind of faith kept me balanced
Like riding a bicycle
Through sanity and mental imbalance
Through all those self-deceptive lies we call…
‘Necessary evils’
When separating the good grain from the bad, do we ever make an exception and say to ourselves… “It isn't fit for consumption, but I’ll keep this grain… for it has but one necessary weevil…”?
If it isn't good for me, it simply isn't good
And I have to distance myself from it
And it is possible for I say it is
It may have seemed impossible previously
For that was how I saw it as
Not anymore
I will ease over this hurdle
And look forward to many more
Yes, look forward to them
For there are no limits anymore.

Today I want to write about thinking about what it is I want to write about
Letting these ideas converge in my mind and fight it out
May the best one win
Today I want to type the first thing that pops up in my head
Today I want to square dance with a Martian… and rename the colour purple ‘red’
Today I want to break so far away from the ordinary man’s norm
Today I want to do something absolutely, totally random
Today I want to take a break from being amazingly ****… to be superbly awesome
My mind is racing… full of excitement, like a ****** about to engage in a *******
Oh yes I said that!
Or typed it… whichever
Whatever idea I go with will definitely be the most rich… ever
But it’s tough to be at par... with poetry’s greats
When it is we that set the bar
Today I go for broke
Today I thought… I wrote… and my words spoke.

Throw away the calendar
Lose those different dates
Lose that wrist watch, lose that clock
It’s almost half past late
When the angel of corpses arrives
He wants them dead not alive
He does not discriminate
He wants them virgins, he wants men’s wives
He wants boys young, he takes men old
He comes in sneaky, he barges in bold
And first pries your fingers off that little hope that you hold…
On to
He's heartless, he wasn't born to…
Show mercy
That’s because he wasn't born at all and has no heart
Lord have mercy
With the angel of death, the pungency of death comes
The caked blood that was initially wet, red ponds
And time ceases to matter, days lose importance
They say ‘time is a healer’ but this agony will keep doing a slow dance
Refusing to pass
A lingering curse
Victims suffer in silence
So with that said
Let’s use the little time we have… to avert from any shape or form of violence.

Reality one, Mayans nil
They said I will cease to be, but I am… still
By the twenty first we’d all be dead… they said
I wonder how many people that believed feel like they got played.
Reality one, Mayans nil
If they could see this, I wonder… how these Mayans would feel
So many predictions close to home
But they had to go for the big one
The major gamble… at the big boys’ table
A three legged table mind you, a bet that’s very unstable
One does not just simply predict the end of days… not that simply
One minute we’re talking eclipses… the next, doomsday
That escalated quickly!
Reality still won though… because ‘I am’ still
Oh, how I feel…
Invincible now… it’s like I am steel
I knew it though, because this is my time
Mine… not theirs; it’s not even their time to borrow
Now to celebrate life all over again
Party all night… cross a road, get hit by a car, hit the ground and ironically enough be dead by this time tomorrow.

I know… I know
You don't have to say it twice
I know… I know
I see it now… I realize
That I really need to quit being nice
To quit being good to everyone, because some of these people don't care about anyone…
But themselves
They would never make a move to help anyone, unless by making that move they would also be helping themselves
This realization of mine, is emphasized by the sharp pain caused by this blade that is lodged into the base of my spine
Still with a slight limp and a wince, I move forward
Stabbed in the back by a pathetic, selfish coward
Story of my life
Sorry, but my strife…
Isn't with them
It’s with me
For allowing it
That is how I came to this situation…
And I am now in it
So, I could either choose to be buried alive… which would leave me dead in the end
Or dig my way out against the falling dirt, blatant truth against all that is pretentious… wage war against all who pretend
I say to them, “If I can afford to call myself out on my own faults and speak to me that which is true…
I'll be ****** if from this day forward, I'm going to be lenient with you”
I'm done.

As a young child
I played and thought it would never stop
We would literally 'go wild'
With our makeshift bows and arrows, our plastic six shooters, and our macho cowboy hats we'd throw on just to top...
It off
Yes they were 'war games', but they brought us together
Although as expected, one or two of us would at some point get ticked off
By one thing or another
But we stayed childishly united
The stutterer, the other kid with asthma... and the orphan, that kid without a mother
Played side by side, like sisters and brothers
You just joined in, no need to be invited
This was innocence, the only guilt you felt was knowing you were two hours passed your curfew
Or maybe because earlier you had showered yourself with your aunt's perfume
Sometimes I wish we could go back to that innocence
Replay that last tune, on the harp of joy
They keep telling me life is not a game anymore
I'm like 'as long as it makes me smile, I will keep this toy'.

Self analysis?
Or self induced creative paralysis?
There's a fine line
Between correcting, perfecting... and losing your spine
Mine
Is a critical look at what I do
And it's a positive, laid back method too
Go with the flow
Make you read it quicker/faster/sprinting
Michael Johnson... or, slow... mo'
"These new generation poets, they just don't know no more"... They say
The older generation, fail to understand how we play
With words... swim with the sharks
And glide with birds
Dangerous sometimes... poetic cliffhanger
Still stronger
Faith is unbreakable... diamond
lasts longer
You see?
It's 'kicking', like a thousand ninjas...
And Bruce Lee.

A strange confidence… chin up
An inexplicable sense of self appreciation
Like I hover above the rest… a sense of elation
Like I have control over all
Even over that which I have no control over
A deceptive reality?
A confidence I needed…
So as to achieve that which I desire
And it shall come to pass… and I shall say ‘I succeeded.’
This one is here to stay… ahead I see no insecurity
Whatsoever
Like nothing can touch me
Even though actually, things aren't perfect…
A lot has gotten out of hand, and that’s the strange part
Because I’m still self assured despite this
As I sit here and write this
The confusion, I’ll fight this
Chin up, chest out… tight fist
I haven’t had this much faith in myself in a while
Warrior standing over a lion with a spear
Victorious
I’m okay... I know that I will be alright this year.

A walk through thirsty land
Breathe... step... breathe... step
Dunes of towerring, rusty sand
With each step, breathe... step
No rules, no lanes... no need to 'keep left'
Or walk in any particular direction... but that which you choose
Too hot by day to play, by night... too cold to snooze
It is beautiful, in an evil way
Impressive, but can ****
It giveth less than it taketh away
That bone piercing, nightly chill
It's getting closer, time grinds teasingly on
The dunes seem to get taller, teasing the sun
Whose heat, direct from sky to forehead
Squeezes my pores...
Breathe... step... breathe... breathe... step
And robs my body of its last bead of sweat
Breathe... breathe... breathe... step
Attempt to swallow saliva... feel like I'm gurgling on glass
Breathe... stop
No tree... open land... sea of sand... parched
Breathe
Try to reassure myself, in a raspy monotone
Wish for one thing right now, not water... chlorofoam
So I can pass on, and not feel it
The desert's friends are up and about in the dark, cheering "**** it! **** it!"
I try to ill will it... try to hold on
But this warrior of nature's choke hold, grip... proves too strong
To fight
So... tonight
I decide "It's over, I'm gone"
I can hear the afterlife call
Out to me
Pick myself up... Breathe... step... stumble... fall.

Behind every jest
There's a truth
Behind every truth
There's a real rapper spitting it in the booth
Behind that
There's an inspired heart
Probably edged on by experiences, lessons, frustrations and hurt
Before this
He was concieved.... then born
This also was preceeded by him being dirt
According to religion, he is God's creation
He views himself as His "greatest" creation
With the ability to school a whole nation
Blessed enough to be down to earth
Enough to know his worth
His place, his role in all of this
So he has cut down on certain things... yes, even cannabis
He didn't say "quit"... don't misinterpret
And this is my verse in
I've been referring to myself in the third person.

Totally awesome speech
Makes me smile
Totally ruthless words
Crack me up
If you agree with this fact, come on then… back me up
Those amazing phrases in a movie that made you want to yell ‘PREACH!’
Words that leave you lost for words
When you’re on your own… glued to the screen and you guffaw
Just laugh aloud… and that’s allowed
That dumb **** that made you almost crap your pants
“A flaming tiger with wings! Dude! That’s like Chinese for shut the f*ck up and dance!”
Heard that in a stupid flick
It didn’t even take it’s time before tickling the **** of me
This film just begun… then started to get stupid quick
And there were no mufflers… the curses flowed freely
I loved it!
Pretentious people going “Awww c’mon now… dude this is sick!”
Ummm… for you maybe
I have an open minded sense of humour
The notion...
That one cannot just simply make a joke about a dead baby
I may agree with… maybe
But I cracked up at the one where the wife says… “I’m taking time off because I’m pregnant.”
And the Dictator replies “That’s great! So, are you having a boy… or an abortion?”
If you're the touchy type
Kindly refrain yourself from taking offense and getting all welled up with emotion.

I am a battlefield...
Between love and dislike, not hate
Between a handshake and a fist fight, when love is late...
To the party
When it is being tardy
Between taste and distaste
Slouchiness and haste
Ignorance and awareness...to be a thought conoisseur
To get my mind out of the gutter...or to leave it with the trash for sure
A battlefield I am...between 'cheeky boy' and 'serious man'
Seriously...I am
A battlefield
Between 'stand and fight' and 'kneel and yield'
Commit to her...or...play the field
To feel, or not to feel
Tears of joy, or smile in pain
To shiver, cold...or dance in rain
This battlefield
Between conflict and resolve
Status quo and evolution
Antagonism and conflict resolution
I am human
Problem solved.

I just need a minute
To express the sadness
I felt when I read about this crude act of madness
The innocence of a child... doesn't deserve this
This level of violence on a child? God will not forget... the memory, He preserves this
Whoever you are... whatever your reason
A fate worse than hell... that fiery prison
The shooter deserves this
A child
That is who you killed... a child
An innocent soul... not a Crip, not a Blood
You will never see the day when you can get rid of the stain left by a little one's blood
I just need a minute... to write this
May God give those affected the strength to fight this... injustice
And to the madman... it shall haunt you beyond the grave we know
Poetic justice
But nothing we write/say/do can undo this unnecessary act of violence
However, let's just take a minute to pay our respects
Let's have a moment of silence.

Like the merchant who claimed to have a spear that could penetrate anything

And a shield that nothing could penetrate

This is a paradox, and it will be loved by many

For the same reasons that many hate

As the wise young man with dreadlocks

Grows older and wiser... though baldness is his fate

He knows when to slow his pace, where haste would make him late

In due time his meekness would pay off

And they will say "His insignificance made him great."

Fly on the wall... unseen to all

Watching and laying in wait

In his principles he remains grounded, which allows him to levitate

Above the chaos

And find sanity in madness

Sanity... to calculate

To make choices, from experience of indecision

Without taking aim, to hit his target with utmost precision

A rational mind, complimented by gut feeling

Result oriented, but if they found out his method

It would probably leave them perplexed, like an honest man caught stealing.

I see a country
Where the art of ******* reigns supreme, I see an ethical ship that's sinking
But I'm too focused on my future to worry about these stagnant 'leaders' and their backward way of thinking
I see a nation that is in a race, that could be sprinting, instead what we're doing is limping
They sell us out to the highest bidder, I see what they are doing...it's pimping
And they claim it's illegal...
I see a monkey..
Swinging from tree to tree
That monkey being a representation of you and me
Swinging off and grabbing at branches
In search of that ever illusive 'opportunity'
I see pimping
I see a society encouraged to operate in unity
But, while we confer
I see our '****' exercise that 'divide and conquer'
They say, what doesn't **** you makes you stronger
I concur, that we are
But I ask, for how much longer?
I see a leadership that chooses to see whatever it wants to see
One that is supposed to mirror me, but in it, there is no reflection of mine I happen to see
I see a leader that seems to want to do right by us
Surrounded by leutenants that seem to be encouraging him to drive right by us
And not see
I see a lot of cracks in the way they are running this state and it's obvious
I pray that I may be forgiven for stating the obvious.

This is not meant to rhyme
But I find that when I write it flows every single time
The last time I was on stage... there were issues
I thought hard about it, 'Is hip hop something we were destined to do... or is it something that we choose?'
Then it hit me after a period of insecurity
My confidence is the only thing I need to surround myself with, I should keep it 'in security'
This thing flows in my veins blood, so I need to get it in with purity
Talent in its rawest form... way above the norm
It's a gift I need to use
A gift I can't refuse
Deny it is something that I can't do... even if I want to
There is no other way around it
No other way to go about it
I had a bad experience... well...
I could either be a ***** about it...
Or meet this doubtful phase with some mad resilience
Because no one can sound like I do
No one can do what I do
I need to...
Tighten up my belly bump, pull on this belt around my waist
Confidence is the only raw ingredient upon which what I do is based
This ship has always been afloat, who am I to sink it?
Bizill the rapper/poet/artist was meant to do this for a reason
Who am I to over-think it?

It's funny to live in this place
Where integrity definitely takes second place
And be lead by people who don't even have the courtesy to attempt to save face
Prancing around like nothing happened
Recently they were mentioned all over the television
As part of a major collusion... a grand conspiracy
Well, not really grand as such, for there have been bigger ones
We just saw the tip of an iceberg
That could sink this ship
And they don't even bother speaking in nice words anymore, for their tongues may slip
So they say nothing now... no comment
And pretend they didn't hear or see that
Deaf and blind to public uproar
These people would gladly be that
To see the Armenian... Russian... Kenyan 'Deputy commissionary of police'
Speak so casually and name names with such ease
Made me laugh out loud at these jokes we have for leaders
But it stops being funny when I think about all cuts we've had to make... financially
And these vampires still have the audacity to bleed us.

To all those that were reading my last piece,'Split personality' I had to take it down sadly after it had trended to a hundred reads in 3 hrs. But I wrote quickly and used the word 'cohabit' without realizing what it implied... you throw that in with 'brotherly loyalty' and the whole piece just reads a lot gay... now, I'm not hating on gay people... I just don't swing that way, wouldn't want my poems to give off the wrong impression... all said and done... I have just had a good laugh at my own expense hahahahaha

It gets deeper... wider
It's a good feeling... to know that I can confide in her
She's always been there
Even when I thought she wasn't
When I thought I'd kicked her out of my life completely
Self righteously so
But just like before... I again fell for her
That unfortunate incident, years ago... her mistake
'My' **** take
Could not be forgiving
My hard headedness, probably as a result of hard living
Feeling like I was 'gangsta'
She loved me and all my 'rasta'...
Tendencies
And I wasn't empathetic enough to accept an apology
Turned her politely away, silently insulting her with ****** street terminology
I was a *****
So we grew apart quick
But still remained friends
Though feelings between us rendered us 'strained ' friends
Until it got real
Had to accept how I feel, and forgive her
And that fondness rekindled
Into that which it was
Pause... fast forward... some dumb person posts a
Comment  on facebook, afraid that I'd lost her
Scary... but it opened my eyes after so long
To realise, with 'Shee' is exactly where I belong.

Committing is hard
Committing adultery?... Not so much
Oh, you want to act like I just crossed a line?
...Uhhh... I don't think I did... not so much
Relationship’s scarred
But you know how good that forbidden pleasure is… to place your hands on that which you’ve been told ‘ Do not touch’
You know it is true
Oh… you do know that, I know you do
You've been there before… you probably didn't even mean to score
But somehow you did
And she ended up in your bed
And…
Well, no need to get into detail… enough said
But wait, I just cannot stop there
This one is for the groom who, at the altar, vows as solemnly as he is able to swear
Never to betray his bride, but thinks... ‘well, depending on the level of hotness of the Au Pair’
Loyalty has a life span, and so does Trust
And what an enemy they have in this character called Lust
‘Tis  just but the truth I speaketh…  one that we see
Our mindsets should adjust drastically if we ever hope to be…
Free…
Of the possibility
That we might cheat…
For when I look around society at the moment, all I see…
Is a bunch of people with the potential to commit adultery
Oh! Oh!

How many people saw an apple drop before Newton?
And probably named it something else...
Like "blaaaah"?
Who came up with the idea of wishing upon a shooting star?
Another man
Another scar
Forever visible, on the skin of an independant thinker?
Man made idieologies, either complimenting
Or supressing personalities
Do not let education ruin your originality
Do not
Be ****** into mob psychology
Like dogs
Pick that which is beneficial to you
To the rest
Yes, be skeptic
Not everything they teach is true
An education is one of the most important things a man can do
I mean 'can get'
See? Right there? I messed with you
And turned a fact into a much more ineresting read
I owe that to being educated
Also to the fact that I think out of the box
These words, I don't 'write'
I 'feel', I 'bleed'
Education is overrated, and at the same time underappreciated
Makes no sense?
Indeed
It's not supposed to
I'm just saying that I'm not opposed to
The idea of learning something new
As long as it is something you want to do
Or something beneficial to you
At the same time, not everything they tell you is true
Self education is more of what I do
These days
Change these ways, the system put in place
Stay intelligent
Mind's independantly placed
Knowledge, creativity, confidence... straight face
I call it 'streetelligent'.

Sometimes I just don’t know…
What to say when she asks
Sometimes I just don’t know
She needs to quit giving me these tasks
Quit making my mind spin, trying to think of an answer
I wonder... if we switched places, would she be able to answer the same question she’d asked me if I had asked her?
So
The truth is
Sometimes I just don’t know
Why we are where we are
Why over-night I seemed to be distant… far
Why I don’t seem to see her like the moon, like a star
Anymore
I still haven’t come up with an answer thus far
I’m not trying to be heartless, but there are too many things to ‘take care of’
To be distracted by infatuation… or lack thereof
I might have gone overboard right there
Yes, that was an over-****
But whenever she asks me if it is over… I’m thinking…
‘I just don’t know, I really don’t… but our friendship isn't over...
Chill.’

You know that feeling
That feeling you get when you wake up and her head is resting on your chest
That warm, happy feeling you get when she looks up at you and smiles
When she smiles
That feeling you get that makes you think ‘if life is a journey, and this is life…
Book me down for miles… so many miles’
That awesome feeling
That girl that just makes you happy, the one you would rather watch a movie with
Than go out drinking
The one that you annoyed, went home, looked in the mirror, slapped yourself a couple of times and asked “what were you thinking?”
That person that believes in you, more than you believe in yourself
You can always rely on her; you no longer do it yourself
Pun intended
But I know you know that feeling… I know you know that person
So rather than reading this and going “she’s awesome”
Go over to her place right now and tell her in person
Today I got sentimental, but sometimes in life sentiment becomes instrumental
To the creation of happy juices
Pun intended
So don’t make too many ****** choices
And end up being that person reading this, reeling…
In frustration, going… “No... I do not know that feeling.”

When I step into the lift
What Americans call the elevator
I can feel my center shift
As I notice how inanimate her…
Expression is
I’m thinking ‘What wizardry… what sort of depression is this?’
I left my ‘happy’ in the lobby
Now I’m stuck here… with a stunningly attractive robot
That looks like it needs a ****** hobby
And thinking about my poor ‘happy’ that I abandoned in the lobby
We haven’t spoken yet, the robot and I
I’m kind of glad I left my ‘happy’ behind though… because beside this grouch, my ‘happy’ would surely die
She turns and throws a glance my way
And now I see something else, hesitation
‘Could we have been wrong about her?’ I hear my ‘happy’ say
Right by my side again, now that’s pure dedication
‘I’m not sure…’ I reply ‘I’m just not sure…’
And the awkwardness seems to make this lift climb slower
Talk about ‘the elephant in the room’
She doesn't seem so bad now, a little defensive
But I can definitely see the ‘sweet’ here
Clenched jaw, straight posture… and still she starts to glow prettier
So I’m deep inside her by now, into her eyes
She gasps in suppressed surprise
And just as I channel my inner Titanic… about to break the ice
Take a step through this open door
‘Ding!’
The lift decides that this is the perfect moment to arrive at my ****** floor.

I choose not to be defensive under constructive criticism offered by good counsel
I also choose to believe that what drove me then remains what I'm about still
But...
Maybe my idea is aluminium and they're talking about steel
I choose to realize that as talented as I happen to be, I still...
Need guidance around skill
Medicinal advice to take me higher than a drug
Capsule or a round pill
But then again I also choose...
To be realistic
Sever certain loyalties and lose...
Those that are pessimistic
I choose to see the bigger picture painted in a snow storm
Cold and artistic
Bring about a new wave of doing things... futuristic
Reflecting back... I should have seen the message on the mirror written in red lipstick
'REDRUM!'
But I was disillusioned, detached back then, I was dead... numb
Then I heard a voice tell me to accept the guidance...
I needed to get out of this maze, follow the bread crumbs
While still swaying to my own tune, moving to my dance
And start anew
So, to an impoverished way of thinking I say 'adieu'.

My process is…
What is my process actually?
Start to type… don’t over think?
Spill onto page… well over the brink?
Is that my process?
I don’t really think so
Oh my word! I don’t think I have one
All my words I just love so…
I’m sprung
My poetry and I
My craft and I
What we have is true love… fluid
I just write… if I ‘draft’ this may just die
So I have no process
I just begin and let this ‘true love’ thing possess
My heart, body and soul
And it feels so easy
I want to laugh now because I just read my last two lines and they read so cheesy
But I’ll keep them, I don’t have the heart to rip them
Off this piece
I feel I should round up all the ‘love’ ambassadors… hippies, Cupid… Et cetera
And speak to them of this peace
And if I could speak to my poetry I would have said to her
I never expected her
To be this much of a reliable outlet for my feelings
My beloved artistic release.

What am I… if I am not gentle?
What am I… if I am not meek?
What am I if I am not humble?
Jah’s word tells me to be these… it makes me stronger, not weak

How is it then…
That  I get over certain issues, put them behind me
Then like a typical human being, my **** mind reminds me how to make a mistake, so I go back to these issues and revisit them?
I am human
I err
I am human… just like ‘him’… just like  ‘her’
I lose inspiration, and then regain it and compose a piece… my poetic tattoo… my permanent scar
Well, I’m back now… again I return
Full of things to say… or write about
Tragic stories… scorching flames from a fiery soul… yes, today I burn
I let the flames engulf my whole being
I let the dancing mix of red and yellow around me be enough
For me… right now
The only answer to my soul being… this
And passion being the question
Pure bliss
A satisfactory sensation
I am…
My own fire starter
I could care less about making a good impression
Today

What am I… if I am not gentle?
What am I… if I am not meek?
What am I if I am not humble?
Jah’s word tells me to be these… it makes me stronger, not weak.

Initially it was… “Oh no! Death!... Why now?”
Then it became… “Death… not you again? Not now.”
And now it’s more like… “Death… dude! It’s me again, take a bow!”
No one takes me seriously anymore
In the era of plagues I would wipe out whole towns and villages, it would make sense now that I should be able to take many more
But sadly this is not the case
Nobody takes the Grim Reaper seriously anymore
I find myself picking up crumbs left for me by doctors and surgeons, if only to save face
This pride that has been taken from me… even a suicide bomber or a mass murderer cannot help replace
I find myself, ironically, in a dark place
And it kills me to admit it
Medical breakthroughs, my biggest hindrance… this technology, I must beat it
These humans are getting cocky… even teasing me, again holding my pride at ransom
Taking unnecessary risks all in the name of thrill seeking, I see you Richard Branson!
I should have taken you while you were still a ******
To take you out would give me such joy… so much joy, a satisfaction level of which you cannot even imagine
But so far… you’re winning
You all seem to be
It’s different now from how it was in the beginning
The simplicity of your ways then made the job a lot simpler for me
Now you play this game, and cheat me at it… constantly
You cocky little *******
I hate you
Look at all of you smirking over there… toasting at me.

The sun burned through his skin, the saltiness of the sea almost acting as seasoning on his flesh, he could make out the birds circling overhead as his vision cleared. They were seagulls, not vultures. Still, they had a menacing look about them. He sat up and looked around the little boat, everyone was asleep, Michael wasn't sure whether this was due to exhaustion or whether they were trying to conserve their energy. One thing was for sure, that fireball in the sky was draining them of everything liquid in their systems. He stared at the sea and, for a moment, considered drinking the salt water, weighing this option against the raspy dryness that he was feeling at the back of his throat. The salt water could wait.
He stood up, and the sharp pain in his chest reminded him of the arrow he’d been struck with, it was gone now, but the pain still remained. The guys must have found a way to dislodge it, brilliant lot. There was ocean everywhere, no land in sight, no hope. For a moment Michael wished it was nighttime so he wouldn't be able to see far enough to realize that he had no hope of finding land anytime soon, and also that fireball wouldn't be tormenting them so. He stepped forward then caught his breath as something moved in the water.
A shadow almost the size of the boat swam under it. Michael watched as it glided, gracefully through the water. He had no idea what he was looking at, only that it was huge. A shark maybe? King fish? Both sounded dangerous, and both sounded like food. He was delusional, but hunger tended to do that to people. The food swam a few meters away, teasing him, and then circled back. He swallowed dry saliva.
‘What are you doing? You should be lying down, save your strength Mike.’ Modi spoke from behind him.
So that’s what they were doing, saving their strength. Food passed under the boat again and appeared on the other side.
‘Shhh… food.’ Michel whispered, pointing. As if he would startle a fish that was bigger than he was if he spoke too loudly.
Modi came closer. A shark fin broke the surface of the water and dipped again. They turned to each other and both had a mini-heart attack.
‘We should turn and head back to the island man, I’d sooner face those savages again than this killer of an ocean.’ Modi was saying, fear written all over his face. He grabbed his rifle and aimed at the water, but Michael stopped him.
‘Save your ammo bruh, we might need it. And anyway, we’re in a boat, it can’t reach us. Stop freaking…’ but before he could finish his sentence the shark had bumped into the canoe, tilting it slightly, ‘…GIMME THAT!’ he grabbed the gun from his friend and frantically pumped four shots in the direction of the fish, which swam hurriedly away, unhurt. Michael fell back into the boat, breathing heavily. He was a mess, the smell of the caked blood and that of the sea water finally catching up to his nasal senses, he threw up.
‘Bruh, I don’t think that’s wise… you need to keep that food in your body, not the opposite.’ Hamisi was saying. They were all up now, the gunshots playing the part of an alarm clock. Time to wake up and face an awful reality.
‘Shoulda’ just let me sleep.’ Juma said.
Mentally, they all agreed with him.

We are a dangerous lot
We play a dangerous game
We know this…. But keep at it all the same

We are wild, not tame
We roam this vast, wild, sometimes friendly… sometimes unfriendly… plain
This sun scorched wilderness, this rough terrain

We get to carry a burden, such a heavy load
To work our way up the food chain
Life is a ragged road

To stand up and face a predator
While still preying on vulnerable prey
This is how it is, the law of the jungle

This line doesn’t belong here right? Still... I should probably end it with something that rhymes, like ‘pray’

The law of the strong
The jaw that can snap a neck bone
The claw of the jungle

The dominant ones have their way… it’s quite clear
The lesser ones will cower in fear
And those that spectate watch from a distance, and do not interfere

Let nature take its course
I have said enough, I await your feedback, for  this poem was metaphorical and not literal… of course
And so, kindly, if you will... engage me, the author, in profound discourse.

“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
I see them talk on television
Hear them ****** us with their words… hear them sell a vision
A million things to say about a thing today
The same thing they talked about yesterday
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
I skip channels
Hoping to find the light at the end of this tunnel
They tell me I have options, but I can’t choose
Every TV station keeps giving me the same news
The same difference… the same news
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
For a great catch one needs to dive deep
Not stay on the surface and keep an eye out for some fin
Wake up, clock is ticking
If you’re looking for something to cover your eyes, try sleep
But I ask you to open your eyes and see
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
See the truth
Feel the truth
Live the truth
And forsake a lie
The scripted fallacies I see on television will **** me
So I treat the truth like my life line
“Lemmi tell you sumfin”
Right now it makes more sense to listen to this three year old cousin of mine
Tell me ‘sumfin’.

I do not usually indulge in "red"
Mostly white or crystal clear
More than a sip, something like a big bite I take... yes, I miss my beer
But this is like... a taste of paradise
This... I like
As suggested by hammered eyes
It's seductive... like a mirage deep in the desert
It's like a fair step on a steep hillside, pleasant
Those that indulge in it together, are birds of a feather
It's like a sly friend, "there for you" no matter the weather
Then smacks you upside your head the following morning
It's like a trumpet in your head, and your voice of reason following... moaning
"oooh...why didn't you stop when you realized morning was dawning?"
Now a headache is spawning
Your hung over, your eye
Just as red
As what it is I'm drnking... It's wine.

Her's is a story
One worth a listen
She'd walk past
And man how she'd shine... how she'd glisten
A beauty of sorts
In street lingo... 'hot'
She'd have toungues in knots... nervous men
Dry throats
But her story does not end so well... she blew it
Problem was, she was hot as hell... and she knew it
Her ego was big, and still this girl grew it
Her response to advice was usually "***** it"
If it was bad and immoral you bet she would do it
Her actions eventually caught up with her
She did not just 'get slapped' by life... it beat her
It hit her with sense
Too late though... she seems to die by the day
By the booz, by the drugs
She misses her mother's affectionate hugs
Her mother disowned her
After her first **** claimed he owned her
Now she wakes up by chance
Smells death all around her
Sad story for one who was once goddess intense.

I read an ad recently
‘Get your Valentine’s day hampers while they last, order in advance lest you be disappointed’
But what I really read was…
'Get your Valentine’s day humpers while they last, order in advance lest you be disappointed’
Because I’m a clown like that
I make light of this day ‘Valentine’s’
The fourteenth day of the second month of every year
That makes everyone realize how attached or alone they are… really, I find that the most stupid fear...
Is the fear of not being paired up… yet
I say ‘yet’ because it’s going to happen sooner or later, more than once
Like it has happened before
But oh, you want to sulk and sob in your depressingly darkish room… behind the self made prison that is your closed door
Because you just want to wallow in self pity… because you're so low
Forever alone
Call me a *****
And a realistic one at that I like to think
But I find this entire obligation to have someone on this day quite unnecessary… which makes me kind of curious
As to who is really authentically ‘in’ love
And who is apparently “in love” for convenience reasons
These self made prisons
I joke through this day… with female friends, my true Valentines
No charades, no pretentious antics
Just funny nonsense with the coolest, realest fun chicks
To all those that have their better halves… well "power to you"
Way to go, we’re happy for you
You probably enjoy the most out of this day ‘Valentine’
I didn't mean to sound conceited… for we are all allowed to court
To be arrested by passion, maybe I’ll get past these ‘flings’ and also have my day in court…
Yeah, maybe someday I will have mine
Again.

I woke up and looked around
Waited for the sun to come up fully
Waited for the morning to blossom
If all the positive energy I have been harnessing pays off, then truly...
This day has got to turn out to be just as awesome
Just that nice
Where contentment with anything and everything around me is key
No need to try to be that which I'm not
Today, just being 'me' would suffice
It's a Saturday... and oh what a glorious one it is
Let it continue to be so... please
Let me not fret about that problem that I so willingly forgot
Let me jump up at some point and do that happy dance that I foresaw
The joy of living life to the fullest today is a luxury I cannot afford to forgo
I feel truly blessed
I feel like  the Almighty is planning to answer all my prayers with yeses
I hold the key to all these desired successes
Like I'm standing at the door... and I pick up a tiny rock
They have to open this time... come on, I've got quite an interesting knock
I'm the one they've been missing
And didn't even know it yet
I tell them "receive me"... and they will do so with handshakes, hands squeezing
Clap for my 'show and tell' project, when I haven't even shown it yet
I feel like I should let loose, maybe even spend this day shirtless
Allow Jah to bless
Worry not, fret less
It feels like everything's going to turn out okay
In a nutshell, I have such high hopes for this day.

My brother and I fought
And I wasn’t at wrong
Or so I thought
Years ago this happened
And it’s been awkward for too long
It may not seem such a big deal
But it was resentment I’d feel
Whenever we attempted to get along
It wasn’t too long ago though
I was like eighteen or so
When…
We had a fist fight as grown men
I realize now that I always thought
He was selfish, and that was why we always fought
But the truth is… I’ve been selfish too
Thinking I was holier than thou
I want my brother back
I want my brother back right now
I’ve been okay, I’ve been doing good
On a solo mission, but I misunderstood...
The meaning of life
It’s not about strife
After growing up together, we grew apart… how?
I want my brother back
I want my brother back right now
We both know he was wrong
To do what he did
But that was years ago
By now, both of us should have let it go
The funny thing is
He still has my back
He is always there when I need him
I used to think it was guilt
Now I realize it has more to do with the relationship we’d built
Growing up side by side
The days when for him I was always ready to ride
To stand up against anyone that tried… to hurt him
He was my brother, flesh and blood
My brother, my blood
As I write this I've grown a little now
So, I have to get my brother back
I have to get him back right now.

I banged the door against my ‘little’
And felt the pain through to my index…
Finger
I felt the pain surge through, felt it throb… felt it linger
Felt it ache
Felt my whole body quake, way past my pain threshold
**** this finger

I stubbed my little…
Toe
Against the leg of my coffee table, you know the one… that well varnished little devil
That stands just before the door
It felt like liquid fire
I looked down at my toe and asked it, “You mean to tell me that you didn’t bleed?... you LIAR!”
And then turned to the table and whispered, “You little *****.”

I don’t know how it happened, but...
You made me sob my heart out paper-cut
It isn't nice how you just up and slice
I’m a manly man, I declare… I boast
You can tell by my manly strut
But really, that ain’t cool… play nice, for pain is my least favourite vice
It’s the little cuts that hurt the most.