Of My African Mindset

And when words fail, written words capture it better: Here goes.... Under an empty moonless sky in august In the middle of a dream Tempestuous serenity Oxymoronic calm ate through the darkness Nibbling at remnants of the Fifth Night Coolly, the clock ticking away ‘Twas the second night for a red rose But in the middle of a dream A single line captured What sonnets failed to express

I got this from one of my archived files. Interesting piece I wrote, thought should share: Everytime he calls, I bite a little at my lips, And let the phone ring so that he knows not i was waiting, When he talks, I scratch my head, While my heart beats in bits, Then i swallow, plain empty air And softly talk So that I know not what I say Yesterday we talked, And i stammered a word...I thought I said love, or like, God forbid if i said Fuck And a goodnight wish was passed To which I thought he mumbled "I love you" And I mumbled "I love you too" So he clarified, And I trembled in embarrassment, And swore never to think about him A code too hard than the "cosine of 90"

Am a fan. A huge fan of my mother. Cliche, right? But nop, my mum is one sole soul, I would actually wanna return on earth to be with. She is an amazing woman. I have no clue where she gets the strength to push on from. But I know she must be a bit unique to do so. I have had an amazing life experience. Having lived my life like a cat, nine lives may be an under statement. I have had all the things a woman can(or should). I have been lucky, and blessed I guess. I have seen the best of life, actually had the best in life, and have also lost the best of life. I tend to think of my life as a zipped folder. Archived in a way that only those close can take a glimpse and wonder or maybe disappear. But no, not my mother. She believes there's nothing new on earth. All things that happen have once happened. So nothing is ever new. Bad or good, she has weathered many storms to see me(and my siblings) beat the odds, literally. Being a woman is hard enough as it is. There are many things...

Isaiah 31 31 Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, And rely on horses, Who trust in chariots because they are many, And in horsemen because they are very strong, But who do not look to the Holy One of Israel, Nor seek the Lord! 2 Yet He also is wise and will bring disaster, And will not call back His words, But will arise against the house of evildoers, And against the help of those who work iniquity. 3 Now the Egyptians are men, and not God; And their horses are flesh, and not spirit. When the Lord stretches out His hand, Both he who helps will fall, And he who is helped will fall down; They all will perish together.

I once had a teacher in High School who read this piece with so much passion, you could have sworn his dad wrote it. Well Mr.Kiguta, I later learnt you aint the author, but the passion you had for poetry, left a mark in my young soul. Thanks Grass will grow If you should take my child Lord Give my hands strength to dig his grave cover him with earth Lord send a little rain For grass will grow If my house should burn down So that the ashes sting the nostrils Making the eyes weep Then Lord send a little rain For grass will grow But Lord do not send me Madness I ask for tears Do not send me moon hard madness To lodge snug in my skull I would you sent me hordes of horses Galloping Crushing Bu do not break The yolk of the moon on me. - by Jonathan Kariara (1935 – 1993)