Maybe it's a mistake to force my heart to love again
that's why I looked up this number long after it was washed in the drain
Romance is the state of a little child rejecting its mother
for when you've truly loved you easily forget her faults rather...
I remember how badly I regretted loving without gain
but the need of the Heart's forced me to return to the olden, insane

I still have hope beyond measure
Someday you'll hand me the treasure
I hold my peace with you

Just know am not parting with you
Neither am I contending against you
Because you're deep inside my heart
Let me sort myself out

Maybe you'll love me above my grave whilst I have no breath
When your feelings aren't respected!
I despise myself, believing I ain't of your worth...
better blind eyes than the events am witnessing
you've permitted the whites of my eyes to pour rivers of tears
I mean, I wish you understood the feelings of love
torture the heart but still don't tire
I'm not loved, that is obviously clear to me but am not content
for tomorrow I'll hoodwink my heart
"You're cherished and just being tested..."
Am teeth but I think myself toothless
True, that Love's a wound in the heart

I still have hope beyond measure
Someday you'll hand me the treasure
I hold my peace with you

*But know I ain't parting with you
Neither am I contending against you
Because you're deep inside my heart
Let me sort myself out

Of what purpose are wings to a caged bird?
Of what use is the light of dawn when her voice is hardly heard
and albeit sweet, alone she can't make the dawn a chorus?
of what use are her claws without moist and wormy soils to scratch
what's the point of waking early with no worms to catch?
of what use are her eyes when she can't watch
the big blue sky, of what use are thick canopies where she won't nest?
why does she sing? Is it a melody, is it a dirge?
Does she need a cage mate with whom she's forced to merge
while her bone and blood mate wanders somewhere in search
of the one who left him before their first eggs could hatch?
Of what help is, to a caged bird, a friend?
Is it just to share the agony that won't end
or help hurtfully peck the little bars that won't bend?
To a caged bird of what purpose are feathers,
one that suffers a cold heart courtesy of iron tethers?
why should she be warm when she misses comfort of her home
the comfort of intricately weaved grass and loving family
the warmth radiated when living with her own species happily?
Does a caged bird need loyalty when there are bars to enforce,
those charmingly curved to ensure her freedom's loss?
Tell me...
Of what purpose are wings to a caged bird?

You'll find Him in the house of prayer
and when wondering on the road of sin
in your future, you'll find Him there
He was with thee where you've been
You'll find Him in thy realities
And even in thy thoughts and dreams
He'll see thee through fatalities
for He hears even thy silent screams
He'll be with thee in the battlefield
weeping the innocence getting killed
when thy enemies draw their swords
He'll  be an invisible armour and shield
You'll find Him on the knot of the rope
of hope, convincing thee not to stop
believing there'll be a better tomorrow
when you're drunk drowning in sorrow
He'll be with ye in thy desolation
when incarcerated and in isolation
At thy departure till thy arrival
He'll be thy comfort and survival
for He says He came for ye sinners,
to turn saddened failures into winners
When thy faith is but ashen embers
because ye feel nobody remembers
He'll lift thee higher for He's salvation
An answer to each and every question
Ye just have to ask and thee shall be given
knock and doors open, repent and thee shall be forgiven
Seek and thee shall find, He's one and the most kind*
When thee breathe He'll be the breath in the air
He's with thee right now... He's everywhere

Sometimes I wonder why I just keep running
running to the future through this present and back to the past
running from the best, the fair and even the worst
running from anything, from everything, from nothing
I'm always running, while awake, and in my dreams
my feet flowing faster than the waters in the streams
I run shouting at the top of my voice like I got no choice
but not a single soul has ever heard all my silent screams
I'm always running away from the enemies and friends
from hate and love, from beginnings and ends
I'm running from everyone and sadly to no one
I'm running and I can't seem to put a distance in between
because I'm running from nothing else but myself...
I don't know when I quit the running... I can't tell when I'll be exhausted
but what I know is I'm running and running and running
I'm running in my mind heart and soul
you won't trace perspiration upon my face
and I'm running because my pathetic
life is one hell of a ******* race

"Being an introvert in an extroverted
world can absolutely be difficult."
Came across this on some blog.
Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro...
you can't go all out... you won't remain all in...
you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous...
The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle
of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden
of Eden doomed an entire race...
for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane,
most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it.
Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell...
maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and
the rumbles of the Hades...
the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now...
I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non...
I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro...
I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way...
I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm
betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold.
Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical".
I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"...
Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me
but there's yet to be a concrete East African...
maybe I'm African.
My point is some people think the middle is safe...
but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one,
if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet...
both are instruments... even their use is similar.
My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother,
an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan".
I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place...
find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky...
always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess...
Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique...
whether for the worst or the best.
Be the last if you can't be the first...
*Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last...
And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place.
Who will remember the one in between.
Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that
cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian?
Who will remember me?

When you can't rewind the clock nor re-walk the talk
When you can't retouch her heart nor erase it all... the hurt
When you can't order the sun to come again & you're stuck midst storming rain
When you left so much distance between you couldn't re-cable the train
when you can't re-stroll along the boulevard & it aches really bad
when the soul's in need of spring but the melancholy does winter bring
When you can't repaint the art of romance
when you can't ask for another dance
When you're thrown into a trance because you won't get another chance
When the days are pitch black like the dark
When you can't move on yet you can't move back
When your trains gone off the trucks & your once smooth heart's full of cracks
When you're caught up recollecting the shards
but you badly want to eat your words
When you finally realise beans don't taste so bad
neither does swallowing your pride,
when your Mind died soon as your lips lied
When your visage is teary and blurred
When you're thirsty for affection yet can't even attract a single moth of affection  
Because the illumination in your soul's extinguished
When you're so starved & anguished When the romance blooms are painfully consumed by the cankerworms of doubt
When all songs seem sung and all poetry written  
When you're tired of dying inside and want it all out
When you can't even define reasons for your fallout
& you want to manacle your thoughts to stop them from running about
When you're bleeding a lot and nobody cares
when you need to be nursed but nobody dares
For who can nurse a wounded wild beast
Instead of watching it die and have a feast?
When everyone knows you're a heartless lion
And none offers you a warm chest to lie on
When you're forced to pretend that you're fine
because it's impossible to verb the pain
For the ache is beyond what speech can explain
When you're actually dying inside
& you want nobody to know because only nobody understands
When you want to rewind time and rewrite the story
but "That's impossible" says karma, "I'm sorry"
When no amount of liquor can uplift
& loneliness is your nature's daily gift
*When the dawn seems totally gone & you finally realise no body can love you the way she did
Not even she herself... for the affection was so intricate
& so out of the galaxy even she can't replicate
When you wish you would run away from your own memories
For they have burnt your emotional calories
When you're the epitome of melancholy and allegories
Of a perfect story of a love that was promising
When she's the only thing you can't stop reminiscing
That's the day you should ever say you understand how I feel
For you would have tasted a little of the heat in my shoe and burn on my heel

When I meet the Sunset, I'll tell her
about how beautiful you pair looked
I'll apologise for all the time your
glowing eyes paled the full moon
I feel remorseful for ignoring the stars
for when we were together I preferred
to watch you from spotless to scars...
They need to come back, the sky
mourns their absence everyday
like I often do because of yours
I'm writing to the blossoms
especially the Roses in the rain,
they must think I hate their scent
yet I love it...I just couldn't smell it
whilst in your warm fragrant arms
even the road is hurt for she thought
all those promises of forever together
were hers, you seldom promised too.
The lawn's never stopped asking for
you...everyone misses, everyone thinks
you should have stayed a little longer
Bed still has your space kept & cold
The isles wonder why you won't walk
their even just one more time...
the curtains no longer glow in gold
even at dawn... everyone's in frown
& fed up of the excuses they're told
I'll have to apologise to my heart
for letting him think it'd found a mate
I'm to blame for trying to predict fate...
I've tried to wait a little longer for you
but it clearly seems you ain't coming
back...We all wish you could return...
Why does desire always have to burn?
I'll write to the ocean and tell her to expect
us no more... that tear was the last of you
the sad gaze you left me wearing was my goodbye
I'll write to the DJ continuum and tell him
I wish he could replay the music of out time together
for though short lived I'd give away this eternity
to relieve that brief moment that beats millenniums...
I'd choose you over life, because you gave me
what years before you couldn't find... peace
I'll never know the serene I found in your embrace
because I'll never give another as much trust
as I gave you... you were an Angel... you were paradise
I'll never forget that day... the tears in your eyes...
I'll never stop writing about us... we were
better than jack and Rose let alone Romeo and Juliet
We were better than the movies because
we were real... I wonder why we had to end
like movies and books... I wonder...**
*Yours truly...