Wickedness or weakness?
I should probably not tweet this,
Nearly slipped in to an abysmal depth of despair but read and heard of an heir,
the grim reaper sewed me a ragged garment but i traded it for a glorious cloak i never deserved,
Gave me solace when i seemed stressed,
I felt my soul less with each step,
To be or not to be?
Neither left right nor centrist,
box me at your peril,
living with the most hopeful omen,
killing fear by the day,
The only way to drink the cup is to keep my eyes up,
Icarus: you can never get too close to the Son,
Part of the cure or disease?
don't know how many seconds till the clock stops,
sprinkle some joy in to this cold play,
imperative is change the narrative,
first to find the path to match my claim,
the freedom attained must be sustained,
Am I free?
Quod Erat Demonstrandum.

With the evident privilege to enquire,
a fed belly, rested body but weary soul,
a soliloquy starts as my bed engulfs me,
It's nine in the morning and I've already had my quarter life crises,
across the soil are many others,
sleeping, striving, laughing and crying.

My head knows hope my heart feels hopeless,
I will pour my nother some tea, greet my father, hug my sister and call my brother.
I will use the rest of my life to love well, maybe then I'll feel some life.

"What is truth?"
Dust returns to dust,
bodies laid out on cold crying soil,
they say it's women and children,
the stench of stale blood permeates,
as some grieve others revel in their "cause",
programmed to see the other as enemy,
the molested minds mangled in a vicious cycle of self torture,
the fragments of humanity seeping away with every act of evil.
The greatest miracle is a changed heart,
How does one convince the deaf to hear?
History will say there are no winners, just death.

Cautious where my heart's placed,
careful where I show face,
when we reach the final lap,
start to see the true pace.
Tired of being surprised need to be harmless yet wise.

Jew wish to share the good fortunes,
the gossip makes the muzzle tight,
First you hear a lot of bark,
waiting till you bear the bite.
Tired of being surprised need to be harmless yet wise.

Can't always be right or liked,
the pallbearer to one who digs their own grave,
can't liberate one who sees freedom in chains,
Let me disclaim that I'm often the same,
I'll pause the refrain.

Starting to see a pattern feeling like an omnibus,
getting harder to know who to trust,
fool me twice shame on both of us,
I needed real ones to get me out my slum,
better wounds from friends than enemy hisses,
the certainty of a brides than volatile mistresses.
Tired of being surprised need to be harmless yet wise.

Bottom line is teeth are bones,
many playing an act like clones,
standing in glass yet throwing stones,
friends are few but fear is fatal,
thread between child-like and childish,
faith is so neonatal.
Tired of being surprised need to be harmless yet wise.

Learning where to seek applause,
not trying to make enemies without a cause,
best to make amigos but never know who i might offset when i take off,
need discernment to see the cain while I'm still able,
cause even if my blood cries,
I know it's been paid for.
Tired of being surprised need to be harmless yet wise.

"When Christ calls a man he bids him to die."
Though it doesn't sound like the most bonne offer it takes away the fear of the grave,
grace would have a hollow cost if no price was paid,
the hand of ****** would still leave a thirst for retribution,
Dietrich knew the true ruler of the people,
the one who holds the keys,
which is why he confidently said before he was sent to be hung for protecting the young,
"this is the end – for me the beginning of life."

i don't always cope well with life and it's *****,
countless times i slipped and fell,
climbing through the mountains in my mind,
breaking through the chains that bind,
but you were constantly kind.

when i reach the end of my race,
may there be traces of grace,
may you find me with faith,
may you find me with hope,
may you draw near,
make your love ever more clear,
so i may walk the rest of my days free from fear.

She made me believe again,
walking with her by my side,
I felt like I had seen the world in a new light,
It was cold dark and lonely before she arrived,
she made me feel seen warm and accepted,
the greatest work of art is her heart,
her piercing eyes are so gentle,
her wide smile and soft lips,
her tender embrace and glorious face.

Her cheeky humour sharp mind,
Her sincere intention her fast drive,
her caring nature and sisterly friendship,
the rosy romance,
the list is endless.

Truly it's not good for a man to be alone,
now i have a different view of home,
i had a taste of eternity,
the sweetest serenity,
a quantum of solace,
my personal sunshine,
my secret hot spot,
an ebony escape,
a velvet vape.

Maybe i spit at grace,
to let what felt such a blessing go,
one thing's for sure is she left a trace,
an indelible mark on my soul.

My hope for her is that she thrives,
that she knows that she is an embodiment of true beauty,
that she is more than her duties,
that outside of everything she's been through she is worthy of love,
that she can free to just be,
I say this because she made me feel worthy of the kind of love that I've only seen in the divine,
the kind that few see in a lifetime.

It cuts me deep that she wasn't mine to keep but I'm grateful that I had a taste of Eden while I walked with Eve.

Soft, sweet and bright,
to the dark night of my soul,
she brought light,
she showed me love and care,
beyond what I had ever felt,
with that came a deep fear,
so used to the unrequited,
perhaps i was too shortsighted.

Maybe i lacked the faith to believe we could sustain a covenant commitment,
Maybe things moved too fast and we just needed an intermission,
So much laughter and vulnerability,
So much peace and joy,
How could i let that go,
some part of me will always wonder,
if i didn't believe in the power,
How did i let love leave at the 11th hour?

Sitting still in the silent sound of crickets,
Ballers catch me out as they hit the wickets,
Looking back on my life in snippets,
Who can save my bones so rickets?

Idol of my heart is self image,
crooked and corrupted by a hidden shame,
fig leaves in my finances,
failing even on second chances,
cover on cover i hide,
don't get too close it's dark inside,
rather fake the mess,
running from nakedness.

Mama, papa i ain't so innocent,
and i can't buy my penitence,
who can look past our misdeeds?
A righteous king who's blood pleads,
always living as he intercedes,
cold recitals of apostles creeds,
won't free us from sin's disease,
we need a change of heart from stone to flesh,
we need to cease from works and find our rest.

So i look up to that cross,
Carrying my shame, my pride, my fears, my lies.
The holy lamb of God crucfied,
And count it all as loss.

Highly reactive when I'm out my element,
thought it was no K to be an alpha but that was a lemon,
trying to be a male but don't wanna send the wrong message,
done a lot of time healing but I'm afraid to end my sentence,
reading all these letters from a dead man about a living king.

Thought i had it made,
depleted all my energy feeling jade,
figuring out my act cause the world is like a stage,
got keys in my hand but i stay in this cage,
found out it was grief underneath all the rage,
been stuck in this chapter but it's time to turn the page.

It was a slow descent to sloth,
preceeded by greed,
but not before envy had his say,
then we met gluttony,
as resentment built up we found rage,
and when lust lingered like a vine connecting all these vains,
it was discovered at the root of it all,
at the start of the fall,
hidden deep inside,
was a piercing pride.

Our cousin's are our first best friends,
Blood leave's little room for pretense,
We fight with no compromise until the fittest has their way,
in a patriarchal place sometimes the girls sit or work and watch the boys play,
These are the types of things my big brother would challenge about society,
What was the best way for us to coexist?
How could we ensure that we could all flourish?
Male, female, sexist, racist, brown, pale, Christian or atheist.

Anyone who really knew Musenge knows he didn't shy away from controversy,
He knew that change cannot come from conformity,
Though we didn't always agree,
I saw him as mind that was free.

I was so glad when i heard he was pursuing journalism,
Like when we were kids i thought he was stepping in to his rhythm,
We would dance to Michael Jackson at family gatherings,
Without a care for whether we were actually happening,
It was the two of us against the world for that moment.
Those are my fondest memories.

Then he went to the UK and we became slightly estranged,
The next time I saw him,
his jawline had changed,
His voice had a buzz,
but his eyes were the same,
The eyes never change,
but the face tales a tale,
of struggle and pain,
fear and rejection,
but also of joy and of hope,
love and acceptance,
I was curious to know how his journey had been since we last met.

He was still like my best friend and we picked up like he never left,
He really enjoyed Marvel movies so we'd go to the cinema whenever we could,
recently we'd grab a shawarma and a beverage from the local neighbourhood when I'd come home for the holiday.
He was a fan of a good story.
He looked at life as one and he often questioned his own and our own.

One thing I'll always remember was Musenge's cry for unity.

He felt that there was a drop in love in the family and not just the Kasese's but Africa.
Having lived in three different continents his mind became global and he no longer saw Jew or Greek, slave or free. As much as he sometimes had doubts about God as we all do he was getting closer to the heart of Jesus more than he probably knew.

So what then must we do to honour the life of our friend, brother, son and nephew?
I believe we must try to love like he loved,
He had the best wishes for each of us,
St. Thomas Aquinas said To love is to will the good of the other,
Though sometimes misunderstood,
Musenge's intentions were good.

May we tell each other how much we love each other more often and may we show it too.
May we give big open hugs as he would.
Make this journey a little less lonely and cold,
May we have discussions and not arguments and listen to each others views.
May we be curious to challenge the status quo and ask how we can improve,
May we heal the world and make it a better place,
That's what Musenge was trying to do.

May we not be crushed by the pain and grief.
May the spirit of God comfort our hearts and may we be grateful that we got to experience the wonderful enignma that was Musenge Geoffrey Chibwa.

We will miss you my friend,
Your story had too soon an end,
May mercy make us meet again.
Lord graciously hear us.

I saw her through rose colored eyes,
there was so much truth in those lies,
even after I looked past her disguise,
post-infatuation still left me surprised,
Let me try to summise.

When you care for someone, it's almost as if they can't put a foot wrong and even their imperfections are justifiable in your eyes.

I see her through the lens of a friendly sunflower now because that's the zone we're confined to,
sometimes too painful to rhyme through.

Anyway for me it's her pretty brown eyes and how she can't have me stare at them while she's aware so I salvage every moment of their sparkling glare.

She's a princess to me,
enveloped in naive wisdom,
she sees the world in a way that's rare,
tries to cover up how much she cares
but she collects sea shells as memories of every time she's been to the beach.

Such attention to detail shows me how deeply she thinks.
It's amazing how seashells don't crack in the mighty waves.
How come she hasn't cracked?
It's that fragile strength that leaves me in awe and wonder.

I never feared drowning till I was almost engulfed by the ocean.
It quickly went from thrill to thriller.
That's how it feels when I'm with her.
Moments of enjoyment that I'd never trade but moments that it kills me to know might just fade.
Maybe I'll keep some seashells to remind me of the moments I spent with you.

Run run run Mr Gump,
make a little stop for an emotional dump,
flora and fawning,
terrorise with love bombing,
thinking I'm sly but just simping,
not whole so myself I be pimping,
no entourage just self sabotage,
thankful for those that saw through my mirage,
my history shows part victim more vilain,
may it end in victory.

I'll leave a trail if I get out the forest,
use whatever light I've got left to make sure the next gen's set.
goodbye to the shame and the lie,
death to being a nice guy,
no need to hide from my shadow side.

Part of my name means to step,
trying to find my feet,
can't save my rep,
hollow chest despite the bench press,
finding fuel so the next gen's set,
all for the fam like Vin diesel,
often times I'm very cheesy,
life and its lemons might just squeeze me.

Thankful for those who stay,
give me hope for a brighter day.

Crazy to think,
that deity would sink,
down to our brink,
to bring back the link that was lost between the clay and the Potter at quite a great cost.

As they strayed from their mould,
bowed down before gold,
still carrying His image,
they scurried and scrimaged,
looking for life in places outside of it's source,
like looking for light apart from the Sun.

He saw their conundrum,
so He sent His son,
in the most perplexing form,
an innocent child.

Kings trembled at the news,
a certain Herod saught for all firstborn boys to be killed as he desperately clinged to his power.

Nothing could stop the reign of the Son of man,
he grew to be a carpenter,
a humble servant,
the epitaph of meek strength,
the fullness of God in the flesh of a man.

Constantly becoming,
hopefully better rather than worse,
questioning whether I'm part of the cure or the curse.

To be a villain is often a choice,
A hero is often chosen,
the villain fights for what isn't theirs,
the hero lives within their gift,
the hero channels pain to power,
the villain breeds more pain.

A story ****** draconian,
puzzling many a historian,
in the bleakest hour,
display of weakest power,
of God on Golgotha,
on the heal of heartache,
hung the broken Potter,
lightning severing the snake,
thunder tore the veil,
that all the dead may wake,
what a glorious tale.

The tightrope we tread where life unveils itself from the filter of our imagination to it's stark shocking reality.
We can either kick or scream,
or wake up from the dream,
For the things we struggle to find the words to mention,
we walk on and hold things in tension.

Eyes weary scene it all,
if I stumble blame the fall.
Second Adam just believe.

Tipping on a tightrope,
holding it in tension,
closer to a far hope,
beyond comprehension.

Silence and soliloquy,
raging against atrophy,
freedom only slavery,
sing a sweeter symphony.

The pen is a blessing and a curse,
Only so far can these words nurse,
Everyone remembers Shakespeare
but few Wordsworth,
To be or not to be,
the only thing that matters truly,
to be or not to be.

Went to my magwinya lady today,
she's contained at the canteens on north campus,
As she rose up her left eye was bluish ****** grey,
A lump in my throat formed not as big as the one on her face,
my eyes secreted their salty solution,
my mind quickly processed confusion,
"M-m-m-m-may i-i-i p-p-lease have five magwinyas"
She smirked at my muttered utterance as she began to fill the thin transparent plastic with the oily flour-filled *****,
I reluctantly asked "What happened to your eye?"
She responded in Xhosa reasonably assuming my common cocoa coating meant our tongues matched until I told her otherwise.
Eventually she simply said, "Fight".
I said, "you got in to a fight?"
She said "Mmm".

I went over to my banana lady and said the magwinya lady has a black eye and she casually claimed, "Her boyfriend beat her yesterday."
Confirming what my teary eyes and lumpy throat knew to be true when I saw my sweet magwinya lady with a swollen eye ****** grey and blue.

Frustrated at the nothing I could do.
Powerlessly pirched on a brown bench as the black sparrows chirped pleading for a piece of my last magwinya,
Should I tell her to escape?
Is that even my place?
How many black eyes are blotched on this bruised land i, a fearful foreigner, trace?
I'll bury my brain in my book,
somewhat cowardly crook,
I'll see what i saw but take no second look,
like a camel's head in the sand,
I'll timidly tell myself these things are just too hard to understand.

Could he make his partition in peace?
Could he learn to find rest in release?
Like Hezekiah after a word from Isaiah he sets his affairs in order,
before he crosses back to his border,
He lets the rift be filled with a gift,
rather than driving away with an empty drift.

Letting go is like death,
A funeral one has to attend,
but after the mourning comes a joy,
a promise of new beginnings,
He chose not to cremate what he hoped to stay alive but he buried it gently with some petals to soften the scars rather than to let bitterness and disappointment prolong his pain.
Freedom will find him one day,
He counts it all as loss again.

Like the tumble trembling from a heap of crates,
As the ocean flows up and down in waves,
Sadness seems to be my solid state,
It's been a hard drive trying to get to a different place,
If I don't move I'll be diseased,
I'm sick of walling in misery,
Peace, love, joy, they're calling me,
Melt this stony flesh before I freeze,
Unlock these chains for you have the keys or did you already give them to me?

When the throne is not your own,
You can fight tooth and nail,
though it will be to no avail,
fate is a friend as he lets a story end,
***** it up like a man,
cause he won't pull that sword from the boulder,
it cut deep when the prince realised he was nothing more than a placeholder,
with no afforded courtesy,
all is fair in the fight,
now he must lick his wounds,
The king has returned,
the lesson has been learned,
the feeling is bittersweet,
for now he concedes defeat.

Beyond the surface,
her ocean eyes gazed past my disguise,
she saw the ogre in me,
the monster, the beast,
she didn't run away,
she held my hand,
walked with me,
talked with me,
it was too late,
i fell in love that day.

Perhaps it was a trauma bond,
or an unhealthy attachment,
but as time elapsed i realised that she took me in to her world,
i saw life from her perspective,
how simple and glorious it was,
she cleared my complexity,
took a weight of my mind.

A lighthouse on a stormy sea,
she became a refuge for me.

He said he resonates with the joker,
after watching the film,
i was left with a tension,
i understood the pain of exclusion,
the loneliness of not being understood,
we all must be acquainted with darkness,
through we must remember that for every dark night is a brighter day,
we're gonna be okay.

What do you do when the flowers start to blossom,
but you're grinch-green like buttercup,
when no drugs can get you high like a power puff,
life is coming at you like mojo jo jo,
hoping for a discount but you don't have a promo,
pains pricked the bubble that you made with jokes.

Carrying a code of conduct in the last quarter as twenty twenty runs passed you,
trying not to drop the baton and let down the team.

Seems like there's holes in your bucket,
cause nothing holds water,
it's a slippery ***** when you can't cope,
feeling like you're at the end of your rope.

Nothing fills the avoid dance,
you just want the record to replay like an encore,
numb from trying to find work like LinkedIn park.

You're not a burden for having burdens,
one things for certain,
every scene has to end,
when they close the curtain,
the playwright might flip the script,
so don't you quit,
soon you'll start to attune to the beauty of spring,
winter was long but a new song you'll sing.

Time has revealed things about myself that i'd rather un-see,
i'm not the person i thought i was,
more of a monster than i thought i'd be,
toxicity is a spectrum.

I'm at the brink of my ink,
the more time to think,
the deeper I sink,
it hits the fan,
the room starts to stink,
change the web of my patterns,
trying to see the link,
little extra ****** oil left in my lantern,
my light burns dimly,
you said you won't be quick to ***** a smoldering wick,
I'm tired and sick,
sad stories and tragedies,
got me feeling like faith is a fallacy,
recently all I've had is grief in my gallery,
concerned by my comfort with pain,
tell my brother not to be like professor X but I often do the same,
carry the weight of the world,
thinking that will bring some change.

If you're just about to quit,
jump, hang or slit,
I don't blame you,
this place can break you,
before you leave,
have you ever been?
have you ever seen?
The pitiable prince of peace?
I don't refer to the replicas but the real thing,
the true King,
have you ever picked up his call and let his words ring?
don't leave his message unread,
if you feel like the walking dead,
he's prepared a table for those who,
thirst for water and hunger for bread,
I can't guarantee an easier road,
but I can testify that trusting Jesus lightens the load.

After visiting his gallery,
I was perplexed by his power,
curious of his character,
lopsided by his love.

I hope he gives us enough to hold on.

Can't forget the depths from which we were brought,
that would waste the weight of all
we were taught,
the tension in the string,
as puppets pass the plate,
hoping it will decide their eternal fate,
little knowing the price was paid in full,
sometimes it matters where you go to school.

Now the brain is bullied and battered,
as the oppressor is the professor,
divulging deceit so they can never find their feet,
there's a dependency on piety as to a diety,
drinking from a stagnant stream,
thirsty for fresh waters,
calling all sons and daughters to the river of life,
branch on to the vine that satisfies the soul.

Wrestling in the centre of the ring,
the compression in the spring,
once slaves to the waves that toss,
count it all as loss just to know the one who paid a great cost.

As you fall from the nest,
its frightening at worst thrilling at best,
thrown in to the ocean without a life vest,
figuring out the host like an invited guest,
writing a learn as you go kind of test.
I know you're seeing the tragedies of society and existence but I hope that you'll join the resistance and find some persistence as you seek hope in the Son.

My fellow eaglet how we want you to fly,
to find strength in His wings and touch the sky,
to find healing and testify,
there is no rush,
the pressure can make it feel like you'll crush,
but I know you're a diamond in the rough,
We'll be here to help you fly again,
I can't wait till you're free MB,
I love you my gee.

Our lion, our pillar, our papa,
you're as constant as the millet or maize meal we know you'll always want for supper,
don't even get me started on how you've loved my mother.

The eternal drives to get our education,
with Westlife, Bryan Adams moving my present battles with infatuation,
I'm glad that you eventually transitioned to British Broadcasting Corporation,
the constant encouragement and affirmation,
the care, correction and redirection,
the freedom and support,
the discipline and the remorse,
these words come short,
how could I ever repay?
What else can I say,
I get writer's block when it comes to you,
maybe because your life leaves me speechless,
perhaps your love ties my tongue.
when all is said and done I'll always be thankful for you Obi-Wan.
With love,
Your son.

Is all fair in love and war?
Clothe me when I'm naked and bare,
Put off excuses that you are unaware,
Do you see me? Do you care?
I'm flailing in flames yet you simply stare.

What are you running from?
Do you see that we are all refugees?
Seeking our own ideas of peace and harmony,
We all just want to be free.

I had an Israeli peer named Mahdi,
a Palestine named Ali,
both came to my country to live regularly,
they could have been great friends but war makes a stranger an enemy.

What is the price of the wars we wage?
What is the cure for this savage rage?

I used to think I was humble till it was tested,
Same goes for patience, honesty, loyalty and every virtue you can measure,
Can't be a healthy dog if I've never been vetted.

At my most creative when in a crisis,
those momentary lapses when the pooh hits the ceiling and there's no piglet in sight to console me,
yeah no homie just the mirror,
all's left bare and I see a little clearer,
they say draw near to Him and He'll draw nearer...

All in all it's always easier to theorise a response,
I'm starting to realise there's more to myself,
gotta stop being a spectator and get in the driving seat,
will I gain sweet victory or defeat?
We'll have to weight and see.

To some we are serpents to some saints,
I guess it all depends on the picture one paints,
I've learned not to bother to greatly about perception,
there's a deformity of personhood that comes with the fear of rejection.

I'm out of time but I can't let that rush me,
most errors are made in a hurry,
I need a dream team of people,
perhaps that's the difference between LeBron and Curry (lol respect to both),
though I can't tell between the wolves and the sheep though,
haha that sounds a little hypocritical right?
Didn't I just say earlier that to some we are such and such?
Well I too reside among the same,
with people that I've learned to distrust,
iron sharpens iron but the wrong friends can make the whole structure rust.
Nonetheless if they moving shaky,
still might offer a hand of help.

Here's to the pursuit of life in existence,
going against the grain,
the resistance,
when you're trying to preserve things,
you take everything with a grain of salt.

I hope you find something valuable in my random rumination,
I guess it's goodbye till my next 'revelation'.

Tik tok kills the clock,
Twitter when I'm bitter,
Insta when anxt,
Facebook for a quick look at my standing on the social strata,
what's the cost to my oblongata?

"Clocks" coldly plays in my ears,
"...part of the cure or the disease?"
It's amazing how misunderstandings (and music) can help one cope.
When I feel short of oil in my lamp,
the right words at the right time act like an amp,
"Rage rage against the dying of the light."
As Dylan Thomas mourned paternal mortality,
in ignorance the words of the weeping Welshman gave me temporal vitality,
even now that I'm aware of their accurate intent,
to my own interpretation I remain bent because if I don't hold the meaning that I first saw I lose breath as they become irrelevent.

Hence, in a an era of persistent pandemics, "progress" and injustice,
my spirit crawls with a flickering wick,
body weighed weak like a walking stick,
mind searching for life in a eulogy,
still seeking to slay the cynic in me,
wishing for wrongs to be made right,
raging against the dying...

Life appears as a sea of disease,
with waves that whelm woefully,
while wisdom wails from the deep,
"Perhaps in pain, they'll notice me".

What a mess we've made,
foolish game we've played,
the scene is tense,
at what expense?

Nonetheless we must not cower to fear in this new year.

Be cruelly kind,
frightfully fearless,
expedietly patient,
drunkenly sober.

Believe a better story,
knead a neater narrative,
apathy is insidious,
for every sickening sad tale,
seek a double dose of positive too.

There is a call to resolve,
till the final curtain creeps,
there is a call to dissolve,
till one's final baited breath,
there is a call to live in love,
embodied and embellished,
laying awake with a dream of a better day in the face of apparent decay,
putting on the full shield,
we must not yield,
either hand is the upper hand,
having done all we can, we must stand.

An ode to Dunbar,
I binge on his broken wholesome pieces,
how strange the words of a man of long ago and a life so different from my own can strike a chord so true to my aching heart.

Hold on a little longer,
keep on getting stronger,
Foolish things to confound the wise,
nearly met his demise,
but to his surprise,
He told him to arise and go to Niniveh.

Not a betting man but double-check the trifecta,
flipping the script of the natural selector,
dark horses coming through,
tried and tasted what is true,
mongrels mounting up from misery,
as all scream and shout,
who let the dogs out!

Once commissioned as causes of concern,
had a lot to unlearn,
underwritten as risky investments,
downtrodden and dejected,
the last to be selected,
with all eyes on the high and mighty,
they sought to divide the word rightly,
each day the weak ones learned from their losses,
joyfully carrying their crosses,
now they stride strong in synergy,
saved from the scrutiny success solicits,
they kept being pimped from their torn down state in preparation for exhibits.

It's a marathon building shelter for my family of vagabonds and pariahs,
He brought us from a low place so we lift Him on higher,
adopted into community with my gang of refugees,
the prince of peace is our metanoic pallisade,
we don't need an accolade.

I'm a werewolf from the wilderness of woodlands trying to feast on a ****** lamb hoping I can be freed from the curse and be made new.

A walking contradiction,
trying to earn distinctions,
attempting to distinguish,
between the matter of the fact and the substance of the fiction.

Stones from my glass house,
an heir intertwined in the vine,
Jack on a beanstalk trying to make of this life the most,
gotta eat the bread of his flesh,
drink the wine of his blood and make a toast to the only one in whom we can boast.

Coasting between Kendrick and Kanye,
Exhausted by dichotomous extremities,
I'm simply seeking serenity,
He says He sings over us, serenades,
grilling in the fire, salt of the earth I guess we're marinade,
know my target audience so I let these rhymes perform their aim,
whatever that may be,
blind Pharisee trying to see how far I can,
hollow man looking through the the lens of of The hallow man.

I don't seek no sympathy I'm just making symphonies,
quite aware of my apathy,
groaning in my atrophy,
body of death is taunting me,
still I cry out victory,
sprinting for a real trophy,
already in pole position,
impossible it seems as Tom's cruising on this mission,
looking to express the beauty of good religion,
wrestling like a Russian named Ruslan from the west to manifest the Kings dream,
show that he's forever blessed,
while trying to entertain,
got no time to stress,
set up for success,
grinding everyday to enter in to his rest.

His rest is history,
what Jesus did for you what He did for me, concurrently, paradoxically He's presently still working through beings like me and you to make things new.
 
We need His assistance but we act in resistance as we focus on the current waves,
we lose our power,
we must depend on Him in every hour,
our lives are but a flower and a mist,
a brief moment we're son-kissed
dark clouds hover with painful rain,
imminent is His reign,
we will rejoice again.

I played with the pied piper or Prometheus,
I guess I'm just tired of all the things that are misleading us.
 
If you didn't get any of these lines let me try to make this worth your time:
The son of man,
the great I am,
the lion of Judah,
the Holy lamb,
took this son of OB1 and Pam,
showed me light in my darkest night,
though we stray and wander,
he's a good shepherd who calls us home.

If you too feel broken and alone,
there's always a seat at the feet of the faithful friend,
it doesn't have to be Christmas or Easter,
we feast daily on tears, joy and all the beauty and grief between,
washed by the water of His words He's made and is making us clean.

First is how it ends don't worry about the queue,
Foolish things to confound the wise,
nearly met his demise,
but to his surprise,
He told him to arise and go to Nineveh.

I smile randomly as she comes to mind,
She can do no wrong and I can do no right.

Providing us food from our conception,
Protecting your chicks like a hen,
Placing a compass when we needed direction,
Powerfully gentle even when we drive you mental.

Adored you are my queen,
Attest I can to the kindness you 'space to let',
Asylum found in your arms with the pain life can cause,
Although you don't seek a round of applause,
Alive still you are we must give you your roses.

Mystery to me the care you have given,
Marvel at times at the trail you have trodden,
Merciful One you blessed us with a pearl,
Mother to us and Obi-Wan's girl.

Esther-esque you watch out for your people,
Ever do you rest you climb so high unequal,
Even when you left to learn and in my ignorant infancy I forgot your name,
Expect you remembered me all the same,
Estimates you have exceeded you're just the one we needed.

Love carries you as you go,
Living in a way you let all know,
Look at the fruits of your labour,
Laughter so loud and contagious,
Lines are lacking because some things words could never express.

Altogether awesome Adonai,
Again you let her see another year,
Aghast we gaze at your glorious grace,
Aquitted we are from the curse,
Appreciative of a mum who lets us know your worth.

Woven in your womb,
Wisdom had us hewed,
While I boast of your beauty,
We all were born broken.

Hence I say you are far from perfect,
However you've always had a precious purity,
Hope this makes you merry,
Have a glass or two of sherry.

Youthful you remain,
Yielding a joy filled jubilee,
Yes fintu mu chalo file moneka kwati fya onaika,
Yet mwali shiba at Yesu a têka!

Much can be said about freedom.
Is it a feeling, a state of mind, is it found in what we possess?

Perhaps you're like the African child who writes this,
often carrying a rootlessness that he can't articulate either in his mother's or his borrowed tongue.

All he knows right now is 'they' came, 'they' saw 'they' conquered.
We bowed, we wept, defeated.
To this day our ebony coating carries a curse.
Often perceived as less than,
with a lucky few who are above the rest.

Perhaps you're well versed in the beautiful tragedy of who we are.
You're acquainted with our jovial spirit,
Our fierce fortitude and our soiled scars.
I appreciate you and I hope you continue to teach others.

Maybe you're a young Paris Hilton who doesn't know there's more to us than south and west,
Be our guest,
but learn our story,
strive to know me and my children for who they really are,
some will try to deceive you like all is well and rosy.
Others will make you weak with worry,
portraying me so pitifully,
wailing my woes while waving my wins.

Anyway, today you celebrate my freedom.
As for me, I grimly grieve.
From my vantage it seems that foreigners feed the feet of the ones most trampled.
Yet your own heads gormandise at their expense.
Many are conforming to the very ways that enchained them.
Sometimes I'm ashamed to call you my children.

Yet I still hope, I always will.
That one day you will begin to shine in this darkness with all of your blackness,
ride with all of your beauty,
tread upon the slick serpents from abroad and from within,
loosen the limbs of the lions and wolves that corrupt credence to your detriment.
Find ways to forgive the injustices all the while resolving them beyond words.

Perhaps it's a dream, but I hope one day all of you my dear children, near and far, one day, may all of you be truly free.

With love,
Mama Africa

The end of 2018 felt like a dream,
I heard that you had a stroke and were admitted to UTH,
I didn't know how to feel because it was at a time when so much was falling apart,
I hoped and prayed that you would be alright.

When I came to see you,
despite your frail appearance,
you still had the gentle and warm
voice that I've always known,
despite losing some of your memory,
You never lost your kind character.

Finally you returned home and you continued to get stronger,
you were still the same warm man,
a father, brother and friend to all people you came across.

My fondest memories with you are birthday parties and braiis in Avondale,
you and bambuya were the best hosts,
sitting on your lap and crying for no reason,
also when you'd take me outside to get fruits from the tree,
even those short drives to the local bars to get some drinks for an event,
or exploiting your kindness by asking you for money for some snacks.

You have always been so understanding,
providing a listening ear and sharing lessons you've learned in life,
even though you're shy to pray,
I know God hears you because you have so much love in your heart.

I'm proud to be your namesake,
I celebrate your life,
I love you bashikulu,
We love you Bashikulu,
Happy birthday.

Kanyanta

From the day you flushed my clothes down the toilet because I took your spotlight as the only child,
to when you, "had the cali girl swag" and you "bragged about it" to your polés in B language,
to the day when you were at a high school event acting wild,
the days in between when I punched you in the spleen and received a recompense from dad.

When I'd watch 'As told by Ginger' and 'Hey Arnold' only because you liked them,
your resistance to let go of childhood soaps and all the shows we grew up with,
when we'd play waida, hands up america, the country game and all the trivialities to pass the time,
when you'd console me after an umpteenth unrequited romantic endeavour,
and all the things that my memory has failed to keep.
Oh my dear,
you've come a long way.

Now you're a lawyer but you're still my big sister,
behind your well written and thought out comments and critiques,
is a passionate, fiery lady with a desire for change,
a confident yet insecure woman who's fed up with acne, backne and banana knees.
Like many people there's more to you than meets the eye,
the grief and pain you hide,
the places you keep at the corner of your mind,
loved ones lost, breaches made, and dreadful doubts.

Before I bore you,
I just wanted to write this to say how much I adore you,
I've written poems for people I've known for a day,
but I've let my own blood slip away.

My life has felt worth the trip because of people like you,
you're such a special person even though you don't think it's true.

Cheers my friend,
you just hit a quarter century,
here's to at least two more,
even though there's tough times to come,
I'm excited to see what the future has in store,
as you put your trust in the Son,
may you fly with the wings of eagles and soar.

I love you fam.

Nyantie