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Edmund black Aug 2018
I abide
Sunny
Inspite
Of agony
I caress
The Aurora
Inspite of cloudburst
I show the globe
Stupendous adoration
Inspite Of distress
My heart
Abide
Unclouded
Inspite
Malicious
I have this fire
Burning in my soul
I
wasn’t born
For the cold
Who am I as a man  Still yet to  unearth..... I found love where it doesn’t belong!
Devin Ortiz Nov 2016
Is to be told all the ways you don't matter
It is to be angry and afraid
It is to watch people walk on the opposite side of the street to avoid you
It is to be told to get over slavery
It is to be told that I'm not racist I have black friends
It is to be told the definition of racism like you don't already know
It is to be told hey what about reverse racism
It is to have a white terrorist group dedicated to your elimination
It is to be more worried about threats in your own country and those abroad
It is to wonder daily if your family will be safe, if they will get to come home
It is to called a **** for speaking out against the hate
It is to be called lazy when you work full time to provide for your family
It is to walk past folks and watch as the clench their purse or pockets
It is to be to have people fear you, when you feel more threatened then they ever could
It is to be told that privilege doesn't exist
It is to be told you are equal, except you know that in the courtroom, in the eyes of the law, the job market, the housing market, in the classroom, it is a ****** lie
It is to be live in a world where 1 in 3 black men are in prison
It is to know that they have sentences longer than white counterparts
It is to know they use prison labor to exploit them, slavery living on
It is to know that the police which are a relief for some, are a nightmare for you
It is to know that you can do everything right and be killed by someone sworn to protect you
It is to know that you will be blamed for your death inspite of this
It is to have the life choked out of you and a man telling you, **** your breathe
It is to hear what about black on black crime, even though every race commuts crime against their own kind the most
It is to remember white flight and the repercussions of it
It is to have family who have seen the bloodiness of the covil rights movement
It is to be taught in school how great this country is while ignoring the evil its done
It is to be taught in school how little you meant
It is to wake up every 2 weeks to another hashtag of some poor black fella to be forgot in a week
It is to want to simply be acknowledged that things arent right, and being ignored to this day
It is to be villianized in the media
It is to see that flag everyone holds dear and remember that pain it caused you
It is to fight and die for a country that still doesn't care about you
It is to be told to go back to Africa as if this wasnt stolen land
It is to be told I dont see you as black, you're just the same to me
It is to be told well you don't count as black, you don't act black
It is to have your culture stolen
It is to have value placed on your mysic and style and not your skin
It is to hear what would MLK think about these protest
It is to remember that people celebrated his assassination
It is to remember the slurs and the hate he recieved
It is to have people know they don't want to be treated the way you are
It is to want whats always been denied, the privilege of walking in your own skin without fear of persecution
It is to see family, friends and peers celebrate and share racist ideas and beleifs
It is being reassured they still value you
It is to know but not enough to matter

Being black in America is a lot of things, and I love the country all the same.

But I hope and pray for the day, that we can be treated the same.
ESSAYS ON
LEADERSHIP FRONTIERS OF AFRICAN LITERATURE
By
Alexander   k   Opicho




Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Contents                                                                                                                Page
TABAN MAKITIYONG RENEKET LO LIYONG AND PREFECTURE OF AFRICAN LITERATURE 4
THE CURRENT EAST AFRICA IS NOT A LITERARY DESERT 27
AFRICAN WRITERS HAVE CULTURAL RIGHTS TO FORMULATE AND CREATE ENGLISH WORDS 31
LIKE PUSHKIN, AFRICAN WRITERS MUST CREATE THEIR OWN PROFFESSION OF LITERATURE 35
THERE IS POWER IN THE NAME ‘ALEXANDER’ 40
KENYAN COURTS AND PARLIAMENT ARE BETRAYERS OF HUMANE GOVERNANCE 47
AFRO-CHRISTIAN RESPONSE TO RADICAL LITERATURE IS GOOD AND SWAGGERISH 50
YUNUS’S SOCIAL BANKING IS A GOOD BENCHCMARK FOR THIRD WORLD ENTREPRENEURS 54
HEROISM IS NOT GREATNESS BUT HUMILITY IN SERVICE TO HUMANITY 57
KENYAN STUDENTS; YOUR MOBILE INTERNET CULTURE IS ANTI- ACADEMICS 61
WHAT IS THE MAGIC IN THE WORD ‘DRINKARD’ OF AMOS TUTUOLA 63
SOCIETIES IN AFRICA HAVE TO MENTOR BUT NOT CONDEMN THE LIKES OF JULIUS MALEMA 66
AMERICA WILL NOT WIN THE WAR ON GLOBAL TERRORISM 69
AFRICA CAN OVERCOME A MENACE OF **** IN EVERY 30 MINUTES 71
COMPARATIVE ROLES OF AFRICAN-BRAZILIAN LITERATURE IN THE POLITICS OF RACIAL AND GENDER DEMOCRACY 76
NEO-COLONIALISM IS NOT THE MAIN VICE TO THE GAMBIAN POLITICS 85
RELATIVE MEDIA OBJECTIVITY IS ACHIEVEABLE IN AFRICA AGAINST POWER CULTURE AND TYRANNIES OF TASTE 89
READING CULTURE IS GOOD FOR BOTH THE POOR AND THE RICH 96
VIOLENT DEATH IS THE BANE OF AFRICAN WRITERS AND ARTISTS 100
AFRICAN WRITTERS AND ARTISTS MUST ASPIRE BEYOND A NOBEL PRIZE 104
WHAT ARE CULTURAL RIGHTS OF AFRICAN ENGLISH SPEAKERS? 109
WHY IMPRISONMENT OF WRITERS CONTRIBUTED MOST TO AFRICAN LITERATURE 113
DORIS LESSING: A FEMINIST, POET, NOVELIST, WHITE-AFRICANIST AND NOBELITE UN-TIMELY PASSES ON 121
Amilcar Cabral: Beacon of revolutionary literature and social democracy 127
How the State of Israel is brutally dealing with African refugees 131
Historical glimpses of language dilemma in Afro-Arabic literature 146
THIS YEAR 2013; IS THE YEAR OF GREAT DEATHS 153
AFRICAN LITERATURE WITHOUT POETRY IS LIKE LOVE WITHOUT VAGINAL *** 156



















PROLOGOMENA
BARRACK OBAMA READS MOBY ****
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
American president is reading Moby ****
Ja-kogello is reading Moby ****
Ja-siaya is reading Moby ****
Ja-merica is reading Moby ****
Jadello is reading Moby ****
Ja-buonji is reading Moby ****
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you reading?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death took his father
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death took his mother
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death to his brother
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death took the grannies
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman  
And what are you reading?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Baba Michelle is reading Moby ****
Baba Sasha is reading Moby ****
Baba Malia is reading Moby ****
Baba nya-dhin is reading Moby ****
Sarah’s sire is reading Moby ****
Ja-sharia is reading Moby ****
The ****** is reading Moby ****
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you reading?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes audacity of hope
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes dreams of fathers
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes yes we can
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes American dream
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you readings?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because American president is like whale hunting
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because Obama is a money making animal
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because hunting Osama is whale riding
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because hunting Gaddaffi is whale riding
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because coming to Kenya is whale riding
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because Guantanamo prison is a bay of whales
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because Snowden is a Russian whale
Because launching drones is whale riding
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you reading, Moby ****?














CHAPTER ONE
TABAN MAKITIYONG RENEKET LO LIYONG AND PREFECTURE OF AFRICAN LITERATURE

I am writing this article from Kenya on this day of 23 September 2013 when the Al shabab, an Arabo-Islamic arm of the global terrorist group the Al gaeda have lynched siege on the shopping mall in Nairobi known as the West Gate where an average of forty people have been killed and a hundreds are held hostage. The media is full of horrendous and terrifying images. They have made me to hate this day. I hate terrorism, I hate American foreign policy on Arabs, I hate philosophy behind formation of the state of Israel and I equally hate religious fundamentalism. Also on this date, all the media and public talks in Kenya are full of intellectual and literary tearing of one Kenyan by another plus a retort in the equal measure as a result of the ripples in the African literature pool whose epicenter is the Professor Taban Lo Liyong .He is an epicenter because he had initially decried literary mediocrity among the African scholars and University professors, Wherein under the same juncture he also quipped that Kenya’s doyen of literature Ngugi wa Thiong’o never deserved a Nobel prize. Liyong’s stand has provoked intellectual reasons and offalities to fly like fireworks in the East African literary atmosphere among which the most glittering is Chris Wanjala’s contrasting position that; who made Liyong the prefect and ombudsman of African literature? This calls for answers. Both good answers and controversial responses. Digging deeper into the flesh of literature as often displayed by Lo Liyong.
Liyong is not a fresher in the realm of literary witticism. He is a seasoned hand .Especially when contributions of Liyong to east African literary journal during his student days in the fifties of the last century during which he declared east Africa a literary desert. In addition to his fantastic titles; Another ****** Dead and The Un-even Rips of Frantz Fanon, Professor Taban Lo Liyong also humorously called Amos Tutuola the son of Zinjathropus, what a farcical literary joke? I also want to appreciate this Liyong’s artfulness of language in this capacity and identify him in a literary sense as Taban Matiyong Lo   Liyong the son of Eshu. He is an ideological and literature descended of the great West African Eshu. Eshu the god of trouble which was dramatized by Obutunde Ijimere in the imprisonment of Obadala and also recounted by Achebe in the classical essays; Morning Yet of Creation Day. I call him Eshu because of his intellectual and literary ability to trigger the East and West Africans into active altercation of literary, cultural and political exchanges every other time he visits these regions. Whether in Lagos, Accra or Nairobi.
Now, in relation to Ngugi and intellectual quality of Kenyan University literature professors was Liyong right or wrong?  Does Liyong’s stand-point on Ngugi’s incompetence for Nobel recognition and mediocrity in literary scholarship among Kenyan Universities hold water. Are Liyong’s accusations of East Africa in these perspectives factually watertight and devoid of a fallacy of self-aggrandizement to African literary prefecture as Professor Chris Wanjala laments. Active literary involvement by anyone would obviously uncover that ;It is not Liyong Alone who has this intellectual bent towards East Africa, any literary common sense can easily ask a question that; Does Ngugi’s literary work really deserve or merit for Nobel recognition or not ? The answers are both yes and no. There are very many of those in Kenya who will readily cow from the debate to say yes. Like especially the community of alumni of the University of Nairobi who were Ngugi’s students in the department of English in which Ngugi was a Faculty during the mid of the last century. Also the general Kenyan masses who have been conditioned by warped political culture which always and obviously confine the Kenyan poor into a cocoonery of chauvinistic thought that Ngugi should or must win because he is one of us or Obama must win because he is one of us or Kemboi must win because he is the son of the Kenyan soil. These must also be the emotional tid-bits upon which the Kenyan Media has been based to be catapulted into Publicity feat that Ngugi will win the Nobel Prize without reporting to the same Kenyan populace the actual truths about other likely winners in the quarters from the overseas. I am in that Kenyan school thought comprising of those who genuinely argue that Ngugi’s literary work does not befit, nor merit, nor deserve recognition of Nobel Prize for literature. This position is eked on global status of the Nobel Prize in relation to Ngugi’s Kikuyu literary and writing philosophy. It is a universal truth that any and all prizes are awarded on the basis of Particular efforts displayed with peculiarity. Nobel Prize for literature is similarly awarded in recognition of unique literary effort displayed by the winner. It is not an exception when it comes to the question of formidability in a particular effort. However, the most basic literary virtue to be displayed as an overture of the writer is conversion of theory into practice. This was called by Karl Marx, Hegel, Antonio Gramsci and Paulo Freire, especially in Freire’s  pedagogy of the oppressed as praxis.History of literature and politics in their respective homogenous and comparative capacities has it that ;There has been eminent level of praxis by previous Nobelites.Right away from Rabitranathe Tagore to Wole Soyinka, From Dorriss Lessing to Wangari Mathai.Similar to JM Coatze ,Gao Tziaping,Alexander Vasleyvitch Solzhenystisn and Baraka Obama.This ideological stand of praxis is the one that made Alfred Nobel himself to to stick to his gun of intellectual  values and deny Leo Tolstoy the prize in 1907 because there was no clear connection between rudimentary Tolstoy in the nihilism and Feasible Tolstoy in the possible manner  of the times .In a similar stretch Ngugi wa Thiongo’s literary works and his ideological choices are full of ideological theory but devoid of ideological praxis. Evidence for justification in relation to this position is found back in the 70’s and 80’s of the last century, When Ngugi was an active communist theoretician of Kenya. His stature as a Kenyan communist ideologue could only get a parallel in the likes of Leon Trotsky and Gramsci. This ideological stature was displayed in Ngugi’s adoration of the North Korean communism under the auspice of the Korean leader Kim Yun Sung. This is so bare when you read Ngugi’s writers in politics, a communist pamphlet he published with the African red family. By that time this pamphlet was treated equally as Mao tse Tung’s collected works by the Kenya government which means that they were both illegal publications and if in any case you were found with them you would obviously serve nine months in prison. And of course when the late Brigadier Augustine Odongo was found with them he was jailed for nine months at Kodhiak maximum prison in Kisumu ,Kenya .O.K, the story of Odongo is preserved for another day. But remember that, this was Ngugi only at his rudimentary stage. But when Ngugi got an opportunity to get an ideological asylum, he did not go to Russia, nor East Germany, Nor Tanzania, nor China but instead he went to the USA , a country whose ideological civilization is in sharp contradiction with communism; a religion which Ngugi proffessess.In relation to this choices of Ngugi one can easily share with me these reflections; is one intellectually  honest if he argues that he is a socialist revolutionary when his or her employer is an American institution like the university of California in Irvine ?
Ngugi was not the only endangered communist ideologue of the time. There were also several others. Both in Kenya and without Kenya. They were the likes of; Raila Odinga, George Moset Anyona, ***** Mutunga and very many others from Kenya. But in Africa some to be mentioned were Walter Rodney, Yoweri Museven,Isa Shivji,Jacob Tzuma ,Robert Mugabe and others. The difference between Ngugi and all of these socialist contemporaries of him is that; Ngugi went to America and began accumulating private property just like any other capitalist. But these others remained in Africa both in freedom and detention to ensure that powers of political darkness which had bedeviled Africa during the last century must go. And indeed the powers somehow went. Raila has  been in Kenya most of the times,Anyona died in Kenya while in the struggle for second liberation of Kenyan people from the devilish fangs of Moi’s dark reign of terror and tyrany.Walter Rodney worked in Tanzania at Dare salaam University where he wrote his land mark book; How Europe underdeveloped Africa. Later on he went back to his country of birth in Africa, Guyana where he was assassinated while in the revolutionary struggle for political good of the Guyanese people. Yoweri Museven practically implemented socialism by fighting politics of sham and nonsense out of Uganda of which as per today Uganda is somehow admirable. Isa Shivji has ever remained in Dare salaam University, inspite of poverty. He is now the chair of Mwalimu Julius Nyerere school of Pan African studies. Jacob Tsuma and Robert Mugabe they are current presidents of South Africa and Zimbabwe respectively. The gist of this reference to African socialist revolutionaries as contemporaries to Ngugi wa Thiong’o is that a socialist revolutionary must and should not run away from the oppressor in to a zone of comfort. But instead must remain and relentlessly fight, just like in the words of Fidel Castro; fight and die in the battle field as long as it is a struggle against the enemy of the revolution. This view by Castro is pertinent as it’s a Revolutionary praxis which actually is redolent of practice of an ideology that has to be held for ever above ideological cosmentics.Ngugi scores badly on this. So if the Nobel academy looks at Ngugi in terms of defending human rights then it must be reminded that Ngugi have no marks on the same because he only ran away from the practical struggle. Anyway, Politics and ideology has its own fate. But let us now come back to literature. Ngugi and his books. As at  this time of writing this essay  Ngugi has published the following works; Weep not Child, The River Between, A Grain of Wheat, Black Hermit, Petals of Blood, Devils on the Cross,Matigari,Homecoming,Decolonizing the Mind, Writers in Politics, Ngugi Detained, Pen Points and Gun Points, Wizard of the Crow,Globalectics,Remeembering Africa, Dreams in Times of War and I Will Marry When I Want as well as the Trial of Dedan Kimathi which he wrote along with Micere Githae Mugo.Out of this list the only works with literary depth that call for intellectualized attention are ;A Grain of wheat, Wizard of the crow and Globalectics. The Grain of wheat is simply a post colonial reflection of Kenyan politics. Its themes, plot, lessons and entire synechedoche is also found in Wole Soyinka’s Season of Anomie as well as Achebe’s Anthills of the savannah. My argument dove-tails with those of Liyong’s stand that rewarding Ngugi’s Grain of wheat and forgetting Achebe’s Anthills of the Savannah and A man of the people would be a literary ceremony devoid of literary justice. Wizard of the Crow is indeed a magnum opus. I am ready to call it Ngugi’s oeuv
There is a man who loves me
I didn't know him
But still, he loves me

I pushed him away from me
But he's still here and he loves me

I didn't even believe what he's saying
But he encourages me and he loves me

I mocked him and judged him
But he looks at me with love for he does

I didn't listen him and wandered off
But he's still guiding me because he loves me

I didn't talk to him and I ignored him
But he's still waiting for me because he loves me

I lied, I cursed, I got angry, I sinned
Despite all that, he loves me still

I turned my back against him
But he still got my back because he loves me

I'm selfish, hot-tempered, proud and stubborn
But he still cares for me because he loves me

I ignored him, ignored him and ignored him
But he's always there for me because he loves me


So I asked...

Who is this man who loves me?

Who is this man who loves me inspite of and despite?

Who is this man who loves me still?



And I got a reply...

He is the man who died for love

The man who lived to die for you

The man who died for his love for you.




Then he asked me back...

Where else can you get a love like this?

You aren't worthy of his love, but he still gave it to you.

Isn't he worthy enough to be loved back?

Won't you love him back?
.
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.
.
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.
.
.
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.
.
...
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.
Romans 5:8
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
.
.
....
the first poem that i wrote that made me cry
160310
Valentin Busuioc Oct 2020
Once upon a time
and once only
there lived an unsightly man

and though he was very kind and hard-working
no woman got
more than one step closer to him

after a while
seeing he cannot find his soulmate
the man left the village and built himself a cabin
in the woods

all day long
he chopped wood
picked fruit and herbs
occupied himself with carpentry and animal husbandry
and grafted all sorts of trees in spring

from time to time
the villagers came to see him
asking for advice on how to heal their wounds
ordering a door
or a bed
and less often
a coffin

but the man in the woods
though more and more sought-after
was
more and more miserable
as time went by

one day
unable to possess his soul anymore
wove a rope
and went to the oldest oak
to hang himself
but the oak
who had seen so much in its life
but never a man so wretched
broke the branch he was hanging on
then covered him with leaves
so that no one could find him
right next to its trunk

but
underneath the leaves
our man fell asleep at once
and woke up before God
and he said to Him
Lord
You know that ever since I was a child
I have been careful not to tread on ants
or any kind of crawlers
I have not stolen
I have not lied
I have worked all my life
for all that I earned
inspite of these
I am really miserable
that no woman wants me

and the Lord said
I know you very well
there is hardly anyone as kind as you out there
but as much as I love you
I cannot create a woman so unbeautiful
to love you
but
you can

look
from the dried oak branches
you can shape a woman's body
fill it with clay and wrap it in leaves
and I will take care of the rest

so, after he woke up
our hero
worked on his clay creature for three whole days
but fearing she would reject him
he made her even more unattractive than he was

on the third day
he called God
and asked Him to give her life
and the Lord
as promised
blew the breath of life into the woman

seeing this wonder
the man was grateful to the Lord
then woke her up gently
with a kiss on the forehead
she then opened her eyes and asked him:
who are you
and why are you
so hideous that you are scaring me

to which he cried and said
forgive me
I am your servant
The Lord made me like this
to protect you from wild beasts
but I am hard-working and wise
to care for you how I know best

but she closed her eyes
and then he understood
to only care for her
in secret

and as he loved her more and more
her ugliness began to fade
becoming more beautiful with every passing day

soon
a young villager came to ask for remedies for his mother
and not little was his surprise
when he saw the most beautiful woman
he had ever seen
and she saw him, too
and understood what love is
oh, how she whined that night

seeing all this
the man who dreamt too much
told her the following day
look
I know it is time to go our separate ways
I cared for you as well as I could
and I hope you are not dissatisfied with anything
go with that handsome young man
and should you need anything
look for me
if you can bear to look me in the eye
and so she did

years later
while keeping himself busy with a bee garden
the man in the woods felt her presence behind him
but, afraid not to scare her,
he did not turn around
and she cried out:
I eventually learned the whole story
so I came to ask for your forgiveness
and look into your eyes
and the man
who had stopped dreaming for a long time
turned around and was astonished
to see before him
the most unsightly woman in the world
but he did not mind
so, he cared for her
just like that first day
and she regained her beauty and happiness
and perhaps
the man in the woods would have never learnt
why his woman caressed him with so much joy
if one day he did not look in the water of a spring
and see
the most handsome man
there has ever been
out there
Cheyanne Lemons Feb 2015
Everytime we close our eyes,
Trying to remember our mother's lullabies
Warm tears, sparkling like diamonds
Running down our cheeks, hiding behind eyelids

When we look in the mirror and all we see is hate
There is no one to break our fall except fate

We judge our eyes, ear, and...oh did I mention that nose is fake
You people are fickle, you criticize until we break

They say "God" created us all equal and that beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
But how can you say that, you hypocrite, let that smolder

Because while you sit on a throne of discrimination
We scramble and hide to find our place in this nation

He can't even go home to his family because of his ****** domain
He loves his partner but his fathers inane

She breaks her back at work everyday, does more than any man will ever do in a decade
But still riding on her gender, her paycheck begins to fade

And when you see us crawling, fighting with need
You kick us down for the feeling of greed

He tries to get a job and because of the complexion of his pigment,
They don't hire him, nada, that's the end of this segment

She walks down the street covered from head to toe, with only her eyes to show
It's her beliefs but that doesn't make the ***** looks a lesser blow

We fee; the hurt and the pain everyday.
While you sit on your ***** in Tampa Bay

And when we can't be accepted in society,
We don't know any other way for prosperity

So we find a way to numb the pain
The drugs, the razor biting the skin, the *** with mysterious men
Anything with a gain

Please don't hurt us, please don't shut the door in our faces
Because we always seem to wake up in stranger places

Believe us, because this world should not be dog eat dog, it should be full of empathy
Way past the point of poetic sympathy

Break our bones, our courage, our love but inspite of it all
We fight on so that we're with the ones we love on the day that we fall

Drag us out and hang us like a beacon
Because we are not the ones who should be beaten

We are the kings of the world, no prejudice only love
Because love is love even when push comes to shove

Please enlighten us on how being different is bad
And we promise you, despite the real truth, we won't be mad

He's in love with his boyfriend. He asked him just last week to marry him
Never to break his vows until they bury him

She's a single mom of three kids, always making sure they have a good life
But in spite of it her bosses always cut her down with a knife

And he needs to pay for his wife's kemo
Every night he's struggling to ask from people at his mother's Bingo.

And when she walks down the street, she takes pride in what she believes
Always wondering why the man in the window is angry at what he sees

This is us in every way.
We know you wish this was just friendly foreplay

But we will bury you, smolder you with the ashes of our last exhumation
Without you this world would have a better function

Ok, maybe we're astray from the norm
But who says we won't be the end of this petty storm

Dose us with gasoline, light us a flame,
Watch us burn at the stake like it's a game.

But we'll shine so brightly you won't want to fuss
Because, in the end, you'll finally see US.
Karan Sherwal  Aug 2018
Haze
Karan Sherwal Aug 2018
I used to believe in good old days,
Still concerned about the little ways.
To get back in my childhood era.
Those uncountable acquaintances,
Now they are just faded faces.
Buzzing around oftentimes,
I do look at them with all my gracious Rhymes.
Those long sandwalks, I heard many voices & those preacher talks.
Standing on the top of a pile,
I saw the world with my pure human eyes.
My incapability of not performing as others,
Don’t forget we came from different mothers.
Though the course may be disturbingly fascinating,
Spot you there at the end of the lives you kept devastating.
I walked clean and I did no mean.
There was nothing to fear, but one day someone molested me who was so near.
Crippled inside myself that night,
Was so devastated couldn’t spoke a word inspite.
Moments still glare, dig in your knife so that you can pare.
Shadows no more controls me,
I fiercely play with them, and still move freely.
Enjoyed every bit just like my first bicycle wheelie.
I did both,from playing with slum folks to slept like a sloth.
Now I miss my never ending era.
Entered my puberty,
with little bit of curiosity
To not to have those thoughts control authority.
I was wild, a state called child.
Facts of my past life...
AWAY WITH INJUSTICE, AND BRING SOMETHING NEW ON OUR SIDE.  YOU CAN BEHOLD IT ALL AROUND, IT CAN BE SEEN FAR AND WIDE.
LET US CONTINUE TO FIGHT FOR JUSTICE, AND REFUSE TO LET IT STOP.  DON'T THINK ABOUT GIVING UP; WE HAVE TO REACH THE TOP.
AWAY WITH INJUSTICE, DON'T ALLOW YOURSELF TO LOOK BACK.  WE MUST STRIVE TO MOVE AHEAD, INSPITE OF SUFFERING LACK.
LET US BE THE GOOD EXAMPLE, DOING WHATEVER IS RIGHT.  LET JUSTICE DISPELL ALL DARKNESS, MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT.
BY, AUTHOR & POET, SANDRA JUANITA NAILING
by
Alexander  K  Opicho
Eldoret,Kenya
(aopicho@yahoo.com)

Ladbrokes, the online betting firm has once again nominated Ngugi wa Thiong'o as a candidate for Nobel prize in literature 2014.The firm arrives at the probable nominee through a highly polished probabilist mechanism.It also nominated Ngugi as the probable candidate for literature Nobel prize, but the final was Alice Munro the Canadian short story writress.The eventuality of Ngugi winning the literature Nobel prize is a long a waited event in Africa , especially among Kenyans.
However, Ngugi is not the only nominee , he is among others and even to make it worse he is not the top scoring nominee. He has tied with four  others at the score of 50/1 points.These  are; Umberto Eco who wrote the famous book In the Name of the Rose, Nuruddin Farah a Kenya *** Somalian veteran poet and prose writer   and   then Darcia Maraini.
There are eleven writers of global stature who are currently scoring above Ngugi wa Thiong'o.They are operating at the level of 50/1 scores. These include ;Margaret Atwoo d, Salman Rushdie, Cees Nooteboom, Don DeLillo, Amos Oz, Javier Marias, Cormac McCarthy , Bob Dylan, Peter Handke, William Trevor and Les Murray . The missing writer in this category of global writers is Yan Martel the author of Life of Mr. Pi , whose also on the list of the favourite writers of president Barrack Obama.His book Life of Mr. Pi once shared  a prize and equivalent acclaim with Salman Rushdie's The Ground Beneath Her Legs. So, why Martel was not nominated remains the usual intrigues of Nobel nomination process.
Haruki Murakami ,Assia Djebar,Svetlana Aleksijevitj , Peter Nadas, Joyce Carol Oates , Adonis ,Milan Kundera , Philip Roth , Mircea Cartarescu, Ko Un , Jon Fosse  and Thomas Pynchon  are currently scoring below Ngugi.They are operating between 10/1 and 26/1 scores.However among them Haruki Murakami, Joyce Carol Oates and Phillip Roth were very story contenders and hence competeters for the same prize with Ngugi during last year.But Joyce Carol Oates is a weaker contender this year given than he recently wrote an offensive and tortuous poem against the eminent American  poet Robert Frost .  Oates drew from the book Lovely, Dark and  Deep  which   paints the  Frost  as an arrogant, sexist pig who gave up on his mentally ill children. The story has outraged Frost’s fans, biographers, and  his survivors.
Inspite of all these there is no literary value that can make Ngugi wa Thiong'o to deserve a Nobel prize reward for  Literature. Apart from his first  two books weep not child and the river between that had concrete literary position, his later works are pamphlets of communism , that keep of regurgitating communism as initially written by Karl Marx and France Fanon.His second last book Globalectics is written as annual lectures in respect of Rene Wellek, the books is a practical duplication of Paulo Freire , and Spivak Gavatri.His contemporaries at the University of Nairobi accusing him of tribalism when it came to supervising post graduate students. he was soft on his fellow Kiguyu's and discriminative agains Luo and Luhyia students.He lifestyle as communist ideologue is also self defeating as teaches in america at Irvine University , very busy amassing wealths just like any other capitalist.He campaign for vernacular writing is egually not water tight on the bench of praxis, as he himself teaches special English in America but not kiguyu language.
Another stunning revelation from the Swedish academy is nomiantion of Vladimir Putin the Russian president for Nobel peace prize alongside fifty something  organizations as competitors.the nominations is based on his role he played in the Nuclear disarmament of Syria.The Ukraine question has not been yet raised.But logic of these goes like historical imbroglio that puzzled the world in relation to the role of ****** in relation communism against the then gathering storm for the second world war.
Broken down more than I care to confess.
old roads and sweethearts of the moment the taste of bitter ends goes good with a bourbon and coke .
Blowing smoke rings across the room of some run down dive it's all part of just being me.

Tomorrow I will find good use for dark glasses and a  one time call.
I'll see you in a week sugar I'm doing fine and other well intended lies just part of the drive .

Some good laughs and better drugs does it ever grow old boys?
I cant say it does but I dam sure have to late to turn back now.
A blues chord and some broken strings was it ever a choice for the gentle were never intended to understand one as perfectly wicked as me.

I been running taking shelter with whomever I can find .
Photographs of my thoughts like perfume that lingers only within my mind .

It's another journey ahead and some laughs between the vices yearn maybe it's just the urge to know we still feel a ******* thing at all are simply fuel to still make that page bleed .

Maybe you can share I have to many secrets so I guess I will just listen
with a drink in hand .
Moments last lifetimes cherish that place in which you can confide.
As the arts in the phases scattered cross dark corners and a shared embrace.

I have fallen from the mountain only to find myself on the other side again.

Watched friends fade and I still hold them true I drink with you even in your absence ****** the good will always keep my blind to the ****** up **** I no longer recall .

We run until the sunsets fade to repeat again .
Dust to bones forever the fool and always a fast friend.

I have survived it still I care to ignore the sign .
For that highway echo's something a promise can never truly deliver .

I'd stay here longer but  the devils always only seconds away.
Maybe one day I will stop or maybe just hang around long enough to stick him with the tab.

Cheers Gonz

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