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Nigel Obiya May 2015
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.
'Macho hayana pazia' is a Swahili phrase roughly translating to, the eyes cannot be limited from seeing.
Nigel Obiya Feb 2013
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.
Nigel Obiya Dec 2012
Maximize the minimum
A Rasta man told me
So I opened my eyes and saw me some...
Truth… and tapped into the bold me
Allowed the truth to hold me
Scared is something that I won’t be
I refuse it
I have to work this skill
This music
Make it work and use it
Roots that support this growing tree
This to me is poetry
I will write
I will sing
To the best of my ability
And in future you will see me son
Maximizing my minimum
I can’t stay stagnant
I can’t
I will take from this world whatever it is I want
I will be amazing
Step into this battle guns blazing
And if I face closed doors
I will find alternative ways in
I may not be a ‘proper’ fellow
But I do put on a charming smile… and win them over from the moment I say ‘hello’
So I’m using these little attributes to my advantage
To come out ahead… on top… superior
Point?
Vantage.
Me
Nigel Obiya Aug 2011
Me
Self education is key
Reputation is 'me'
Has little to do with 'we'
Influenced more by what's going on inside, as opposed to 'around' me
These experiences we go through
Pleasant... or unpleasant
These extreme lengths we go to
To survive
Camel in harsh desert
Just inspire our stories
To evolve into legend
For true travellers journey
They know nothing about 'dead ends'
so...
The next time you think you know somebody well enough to discuss him
Remember,the only one that knows him that well...
Is just 'Him'.
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
Self education is key
Reputation is 'me'
Has little to do with 'we'
Influenced more by what's going on inside, as opposed to 'around' me
These experiences we go through
Pleasant... or unpleasant
These extreme lengths we go to
To survive
Camel in harsh desert
Just inspire our stories
To evolve into legend
For true travelers journey
They know nothing about 'dead ends'
so...
The next time you think you know somebody well enough to discuss him
Remember,the only one that knows him that well...
Is just 'Him'.
Written on Friday, August 5, 2011 at 12:48pm
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
It’s scary I tell you, when I turn around and look…
Back
To the days when I just couldn’t wait to read that book
I’d plan my day so that I'd have several hours of page-turning time… with no interruptions in between
Nowadays I find myself turning fewer pages, but lazily clicking away as I read off a computer screen
I’m afraid I will lose the reading culture I’d built... for this is not the same
I go through a few pages, then switch to an online pool game
It’s a habit I’m beginning to abhor
Something I never would have dared to do before
I would read the crap out of a book in a day… or two at most, before
Always hungry for a story, like a ****** with a craving looking to score
I was a book worm… now I just don’t know
What I am anymore
I grab a good paperback and dive into the story
An hour later my eyes feel heavy, I begin to feel a little weary
The Sandman’s close by and I am beginning to worry
‘Will I even get to finish this chapter?’
I begin to rush through the page in a hurry
But by now I’m reading shallow… and the story is so deep
Still, I need to know what happens to the protagonist next… before I fall into this deep sleep
I can feel it lurking around the corner
**** Sandman!...
Around the corner
Then I turn to my machine… that wretched thing
And see the window I left open on the screen
And decide to squeeze in…
A short story I had been reading earlier, before I ‘shut eye’
Knowing full well that if I force myself past chapter four my brain surely shall die
But, forty five minutes later… well, what do you know? The computer has done it again…
It has kept me awake and reading, way past chapter ten.
Remember when reading a book was... well... about reading A BOOK?
Nigel Obiya Dec 2012
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.
Yeah... from time time I like to drop a bit of controversy. Excuse the vulgarity today, I tried my best to contain it... and failed.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
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.
Sometimes we realize that it's not worth holding on to a grudge... no matter how justified we may feel about it. We've had our issues, but I can't pretend he wasn't my big brother for all those years.
Nigel Obiya May 2013
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
*******!
English... I speak it, I write it
Swahili... I'm proud of my heritage and culture, this language represents that and allows me to express my thoughts
Sheng'... It's slang, every culture has one, I can't help but speak and write it

Finally... I just did what I usually do, in more languages than one.
Nigel Obiya Dec 2012
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.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
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.
Nigel Obiya Apr 2013
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.
'nuff sed!
Nigel Obiya Apr 2013
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!
You know it's true... 'Nobody knows where the nose goes when the doors are closed'... Oh! Oh!

*inspired by two lines from
'Quentin Briscoe'
Nigel Obiya Dec 2012
Let me share with you men
A truly bad idea
I know this girl I badly wanted to know then
So I obviously had Ideas
Little did I know, this beauty had her own
She stared down and asked “My dear…?”
“Yes?”
“You’d truly be blessed if you walked me into this shoe shop… “
“Which one?”
“…this one right here.”
I heard the warning bell go off
But told my conscience “Go to hell… show off!”
So off we went… I mean, in we strode
To the aisle with shoes she couldn’t afford
She tried them all
They tried her back
I almost cried there at the mall for lack…
Of foresight
And thought ... ‘All night we’re stuck in here’
And I swore the next time I was attacked by ‘pretty power’ I’d put up more of a fight
She just grinned from ear to ear
Jumped up and said… “Oooh! See the ones in RED?”
And I shed a little tear
Suffice it to say, we stayed three hours
I left drained of all my super powers
As I left I saw the jealous look from another trapped fellow
And an attendant whispered in my ear…
“Lucky you, she’s kept him here for seven hours.”
So guys...
The shoe shop's your biggest fear.
Nigel Obiya Aug 2011
Practice makes perfect
So perfect needs practice
Perfection comes not to anybody that lacks this...
Little thing they call 'practice'
We take breaks
From our chosen trades...
A breather
But can't stay away too long lest we lose our touch
Get overwhelmed, try to dig deep...
But end up using spoons as spades
Frustrating
Even to the reader
To witness the writer 'fall off'
The saddle
Because he was too busy trying to catch up with the rest
As opposed to being the leader
You are either... one or the other
But then again, you could be neither
The guy in between
Ham in a sandwich
If you fall in that category
Then you urgently need to pull a 'mind switch'.
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
Practice makes perfect
So perfect needs practice
Perfection comes not to anybody that lacks this...
Little thing they call 'practice'
We take breaks
From our chosen trades...
A breather
But can't stay away too long lest we lose our touch
Get overwhelmed, try to dig deep...
But end up using spoons as spades
Frustrating
Even to the reader
To witness the writer 'fall off'
The saddle
Because he was too busy trying to catch up with the rest
As opposed to being the leader
You are either... one or the other
But then again, you could be neither
The guy in between
Ham in a sandwich
If you fall in that category
Then you urgently need to pull a 'mind-switch'.
Written  on  Tuesday, August 2, 2011 at 5:41pm
Nigel Obiya Jul 2012
Sometimes I don’t write for a while
And I feel like I have betrayed someone… myself?
But when I come back I don’t try to search for a style
For I still feel like I am that same someone… myself
That friend, that poetic friend in my head
Schizophrenic? Maybe, but I’m keeping this voice here until I’m dead
It speaks volumes… I’ve missed it
When it peaks like the tallest sand dunes… like the sun, I can say ‘I’ve kissed it’
For I love the voice in my head, ‘in love’ I dare say
And no matter how long we may be parted
We are still together in a weird way
We’ve been through a lot, my voice and I
We’ve mesmerized them with wordplay
We’ve delved into hip hop and befriended the pen, both poetic in their own way
And came back with a ten point five out of ten
In July, on this eleventh day.
Written on Wednesday 11th July 2012.
Nigel Obiya Mar 2012
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.
Nigel Obiya Apr 2013
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
Planet Nairobi… wrote this a couple of months ago, it was turned down by one publisher and awaiting other publisher’s feedback. However, it’s been a minute so I decided to share it with my peoples… if you like my work, this one will get you going… it may have it’s flaws, but hey… I never said I’m perfect, I’m just a writer.
Nigel Obiya Dec 2012
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.
Dear me! I dare say that seems to have escalated quite hastily...
Nigel Obiya Apr 2013
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.
Nigel Obiya May 2015
I sunk a little...
The water I involuntarily drank...
A lot
The liquor I voluntarily drank...
A lot
The place I was in...dark
A lot
Almost fell out of the race I was in, I mean 'the race I am in'
Well, since then that mind set has been replaced
With 'I can win'
I should apologize to all my readers...if they are reading this piece right now
But I have no guilt
For a foundation was unexpectedly built
For a structured mentality, I've built peace right now
And getting stronger, weak no longer
I increase right now.
Nigel Obiya Jun 2010
Sway the right way, while going wrong
Delivery's weak, but his talk is strong
What's the point?
To talk lip? Impress?
To act, walk and talk slick, but the reality is that you repress
That which you need to express
The right to 'speak your mind', against 'pleasing them' takes second place
That's not right?
For a man not to be able to hold his own, stand his ground... or, if necessary
Fight
Dignity's hidden like a shadow in the night
That's what you get for conforming to the system, being 'proper'... a piece of the puzzle
Like a dog roaming the mean streets in a muzzle
I pity these people
Who always look up to others
And will never know how it feels  to be better... or even
Equal
Sad people.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
More loss...
Of life
Somebody somewhere has lost
A father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a husband… a wife
On this Saturday morning
Somebody is weeping… somebody is mourning
‘News just in’… it probably is a media frenzy…
By now
But somewhere out there
Some people do not know where they’re friends be
Right now
Eleven dead… eleven nameless people gone
Unless it’s your loss, then somebody has a name
This is that ‘it’s someone else’s problem’ game
The news you hear… but it doesn’t really ‘hit home’
Unless it really does ‘hit home’
To me… like to you, right now these people are unknown
But they are still people… they were living, breathing people
Now gone
On a Saturday morning
Many are beginning a sad day… mourning
We can lay blame on the ferry services… the lack of precaution
And trust me, they deserve that blame… they really do
But to pin point one particular person to blame it on?... Really?... Who?
Right now… today
Let’s just take a moment to pray
For the injured and the gone
And when I say …I’m glad it isn’t a school day
And most school-going children are at home
I know I’m not alone.
Life is unpredictable.
http://standardmedia.co.ke/?articleID=2000075903&story;_title=Kenya-11-dead-in-Likoni-ferry-accident
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
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.
Yeah... don't ask why I wrote this or where it came from, I'm stumped too. **** voices in my head.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
‘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.
Sometimes I like to paint pictures with words... some playful, imaginative pieces.
Nigel Obiya Jun 2010
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.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.- From LOOSE CANNON
Nigel Obiya Sep 2012
They say "The conspiracy theory is... "

I say "The conspiracy is... "

They try to downplay it

I see it

They say people are just talking crazy... well, maybe we are

But I can smell their *******

I smell it from afar

It starts small, this conspiracy thing... right in our back yard

A fallacy called 'freedom', they dictate quite hard

Alot do not see it though

Or chose not to do so

Ignore a wet floor, you will only slip again

And bruise more

Maybe I'm eccentric

But I just could be right

Secretive society, with secret societies

Incognito, they operate

Like shadows in the night

We have the local equivalent

Then

Cross over our border

We see suits pushing forward

For a 'new world order'

When?

Nobody wants this but them

In my opinion that is...

In a nutshell "**** them!".
Nigel Obiya Jun 2010
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.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.- From LOOSE CANNON
Nigel Obiya Jul 2010
I want to shoot someone
I want to shoot myself
I need just one gun... one
Two bullets would really help
I want to push you over a bridge
I want to ******* hang myself
Lion fighting off crocodile
Insanity? Or mentally versatile?
When thoughts force themselves into your head
Instability, in and out of bed
When the fine line between what's sane and what's not, becomes a grey area
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Really though?
You could turn your imaginary place into a play area
Just sort of "go nuts"... macadamia
Walk around with your head held high
Saying "I'm going to slay me a... dragon today"
Or smack the stripes off a zebra, then head **** a giraffe
Enough!... ****, I'm beginning to scare myself
Next time I write a poem
I should ******* prepare myself
S'nuts.
I just let my mind wander... now you know why they refer to us as "literary gangsters"
BiZZiLL da'WORDSMITH.
Nigel Obiya Jul 2010
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'.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
“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’.
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
If I were to die today
Well, what can I say?
I'd simply be dead
To overthink, is to lose your way
It ain't just all about... street cred'... flashy clothing... and being overfed
One needs to find a balance, be it at the brim
He who adds no value to your life, is the one that you trim
Off, and lose touch with
Or not associate too much with
Do not take life too seriously
I know that  I will die too, curiously...
I feel nothing even remotely close to fear
Suprise me death
You could be far... but then again
You might just be near.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.- From LOOSE CANNON
Nigel Obiya May 2010
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.
Just drinking and thinking aloud....
Nigel Obiya Jan 2012
Detached, heartless

Cold

Reattached, 'Jah bless'

Bold

Full speed ahead

Clear view

Wipers, windshield

Can't work with the rear view... mirror

I write, **** them dead

Killer

Let them say "Dude, the verse... you murdered it!"

'Ill'er'

But still I... wonder if they got the message

Wonder whether or not they feel 'I'

Whether or not they got what I wrote

Do they think of me as the 'blacksmith' that hit the iron 'while its hot'...

Or not?

Write up a sword, Wordsmith... real thought

Pulling at my mind from both sides

Really taught

In their hearts, will they reserve a spot...

For that which us poets wrote?

Or for the messages they feel we brought...

Forth?

Did we succeed in pointing their moral compass upwards... north?

It would be disappointing if they read, moved on and forgot

For we aim to provoke thought

Intelligence is put to better use when wisdom is sought

Against the odds, we've fought

Expressive vigilance was sold to us... we bought

Free as the winds... set sail our boat

On a sea where storms are rife

We chose to stay afloat

Stay true

So if you're still reading thank you, for giving me a few minutes of your life.
Bizzill da' Wordsmith.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2012
Detached, heartless

Cold

Reattached, 'Jah bless'

Bold

Full speed ahead

Clear view

Wipers, windshield

Can't work with the rear view... mirror

I write, **** them dead

Killer

Let them say "Dude, the verse... you murdered it!"

'Ill'er'

But still I... wonder if they got the message

Wonder whether or not they feel 'I'

Whether or not they got what I wrote

Do they think of me as the 'blacksmith' that hit the iron 'while its hot'...

Or not?

Write up a sword, Wordsmith... real thought

Pulling at my mind from both sides

Really taught

In their hearts, will they reserve a spot...

For that which us poets wrote?

Or for the messages they feel we brought...

Forth?

Did we succeed in pointing their moral compass upwards... north?

It would be disappointing if they read, moved on and forgot

For we aim to provoke thought

Intelligence is put to better use when wisdom is sought

Against the odds, we've fought

Expressive vigilance was sold to us... we bought

Free as the winds... set sail our boat

On a sea where storms are rife

We chose to stay afloat

Stay true

So if you're still reading thank you, for giving me a few minutes of your life.
Bizzill da' Wordsmith.
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
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.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
Music to my ears
Napkin to my tears
Shoulder to my lean
Through an exhaustingly long swim… resting Island in between
He is...
Salvation from my sin
That’s my Lord

Courage to my fears
Wisdom among my peers
Keeps me focused, keen
Opened my eyes to all that I’ve seen
He is...
My backbone… He is my spleen
That’s my Lord

And so I cannot afford
To give up on Him
Lest he returns the favour
And gives up on me
And I need Him… my savior
I was always flattered though, by the fact that He needs me too
To fulfill my purpose… my part in His plan
I could be replaced, I know
But for some reason I keep getting other chances… He keeps forgiving me some more
It makes me feel special, like for an important role to play
I am wanted
I have to be careful though, not to cross the line…
And take him for granted
To lose a father, a friend and a guide
I simply cannot afford
So, no matter how many times I slip up
I will still pick myself up, dust myself off, look to the sky and say…
“I will stick with Him because He is my Lord.”
Nigel Obiya Mar 2012
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'.
Nigel Obiya Jul 2010
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.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.
Nigel Obiya Feb 2013
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.
Oh... how I love these clowns I call my brothers and sisters....

Follow this link to get a feel of what I'm talking about... http://www.nairobiwire.com/2013/02/how-kenyans-reacted-after-uhuru.html
Nigel Obiya Feb 2013
I heard Him say…
“I do not favour anyone above everybody else, I favour everyone the same.”
And had to share it with you.
Nigel Obiya Apr 2013
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.
Nigel Obiya Dec 2010
Pen to paper
Poetry comes forth
Ideas as weird as if south’s become north
You with me still? Or have I lost you?
Can’t wait for you to catch up, I write how I’m supposed to
As unnerving as black, as relaxing as sky blue
Those are just but two things these words can do
I don’t see myself as a poet
I’m more of a wordsmith
I’m crazy, we all know it, but don’t you just love how my words split
The page into two, or three… or four?
Or more?
You’re in my mind, enjoy your tour
I’m rarely sure
Of what I’m going to write about
But I’m always assured, deep down I know
I will write it out.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
She is a beauty
No other way to put it... just four words
And she knows it
We know she knows
We blame... that reflection in the mirror she owns
She is a gem
The sort of lady you try to introduce yourself to...
And fail to remember your name
But 'life' took that beauty... and held it out of your reach
We all know that situation... I can hear the men shout "PREACH!"
That branch that's just higher than you can stretch... caressing your finger tips
Hanging from it is something sweet, delectable
Peach
I don't mean that literally though... these are just semantics
Though its a case of "out of sight, out of mind"... some nonchelant antics
She's the type to make you wish you could press on 'rewind'
And do it all over again...
You don't really care... but you do
So its complicated, intertwined
Then again, its never that serious
You just took a trip through a 'sprung' guy's mind.
Written on Friday, August 12, 2011 at 4:23pm
Nigel Obiya Apr 2013
I have thoughts that can provoke
Thoughts that once expressed, which they usually are, I do not revoke
Thoughts that I jotted down, thoughts that I sang aloud… thoughts that I spoke
I have thoughts
That life provokes
I have them for they are a necessary part of who I am, like a bicycle rim… and spokes
Thoughts that dance around in my mind
Thoughts that remind…
Me of lessons forgotten
Lessons learned… but disappeared into the dust I left in my wake as I sped through life
I have these to keep me company
I have them to keep me warm
I have them and accept them, I don't want to doubt them or ask ‘why?’
Through rain… in a storm
These thoughts would keep me dry
They provide me the shelter that I need
So that I am not running about helter-skelter
I have said it before, they course through my veins
Therefore when I express them I do not just speak them, sing them, or write them down
I bleed
These…
Thoughts
Like I am doing…
Right now.
My mission in life is to figure out how I do this... so far I only have an idea... and countless ideas...
Nigel Obiya Oct 2010
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.
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH>
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
I'm a man because I take a stance against *******, or modern day slavery
I'm a man because the beast inside is uncaged, my focus not wavering
I'm a man because I see beyond my nose, beyond horizons
The man  in me recognizes the lack of agility, and not the size of a python
So I chose not to fear
But to make sense of situations
And maximise self expression
The distant look in my eyes
I see it too
In Barack's eyes I've seen it too... it's true
I tend to fall off, and slip off the track sometimes
But the Almighty's seen me through the toughest of times
I'm proud to say that I know what my purpose in life is, it's mine
But to get there I've got to keep myself in check... in line
It probably will never be easy, I understand
But...
I owe it to God to remain strong and stay "This Man".
BiZZiLL da' WORDSMITH.- From LOOSE CANNON
Nigel Obiya Oct 2012
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.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
I just want to say thank you
Thanks
Thanks to all those people that never gave up on me when I almost gave up on myself
Thanks to all those that offered a helping hand, you will always deserve my help
If you will ever need it
This piece you will know is about you… yes you
My friend, my ‘fan’… no one else will ever read it
When I write for you I do not just write, this piece I breathe it… I bleed it
That sort of support and faith in me from you… I realize now, I need it
Thank you
Thanks
You who pulled me aside at the bar… and said “I have never heard a doper rapper thus far”
You who said “That poem I read… the one you wrote, killed me dead”
You… my friend, are the reason I keep my head above water
The reason I don’t drown… word to my mother…
To my unborn son… to my unborn daughter
The number of times I thought ‘I’m done’
Then in the midst of a dark spell, a ray of hope, a light
A bit of sun
I am not a vampire so I step into it… I don’t burn
I allow that support to teach me, allow myself to learn
We all have at one point or another, danced with the devil
And tripped
But with your trampoline-like support, I bounce back
Yes
You show me, make me realize
I am more than well equipped.
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