You make justice elusive
Peace will go missing!!
They say they want peace alive, what do they want to kill in it’s place? I have witnessed fathers killed by same seekers of peace and yet they kept saying they’re fighting for peace. It is such a shame that the greatest paradox of all time is the most expensive. Well, after 2007 elections did they tell you; how many businesses lost customers, how many firms lost employees, how many wives lost husbands and how many children lost their parents? Did they tell you; how many bodies lost heads, how many people lost limbs and how many people lost homes? I guess they’ll never do.
All they can do is run their own numbers by the media they’ve bought and make you assume that violence wasn’t really intense as you saw through your own eyes. Their version of truth will be everywhere and before you know it, your brain will be in strife with eyes for feeding it the wrong info. This is where they’ll show the nation how benevolent they’re: they’ll take you to Mathare mental not because you’re sick but because you must be silenced..
So you’re FIGHTING for peace? Well, we had peace before your political ambitions stole it from us. DONT steal our peace and make finding it a national agenda..Don’t light fire you don’t intend to use. Don’t rob us of our calm, we won’t seek peace. we’ll seek justice!
You make justice elusive
Peace will go missing!!
Don’t celebrate that you give women sleepless nights, don’t be surprised if she found your replacement in her insomnia.
Hello, how are you? I’m curious. It’s not that I’m not concerned, but you see if you brought a sexually starved bachelor into a room full of naked women and dared to gauge the rise in testosterone and gastrin hormones, wouldn’t the highest be obvious? So is my curiosity. As you know, none of the people I hold dear that had departed ever came back to tell me how the land yonder is. These are miracles reserved for people of Lazarus’s privileges, you failed to qualify too but I would have loved to get a two way communication between us , brother what channel do we use, Prayer? No. If I prayed in conversation with a dead brother I might be termed a devil worshiper; there’s a notion that people who die turn to ghost and devils, the latter is more common. The penalty for conversing with a devil, my pastor says, is eternal fires of hell.
Irrespective, I’ll tell you a few things about this world you left unduly. Here nothing is easy, there are metrics that we found already set, not that the bars they set for us were too high that we couldn’t meet but it just makes no sense to force Lionel Messi to hit the bull’s eye when the game of darts doesn’t involve the use of feet. Particularly, it hasn’t been cool with me, I have been branded names. Brother, we would have shared these names if you were here, believe me there’s nothing as weighty as a demeaning brand. It blankets your self-esteem and floors your confidence and before you know it you’ll remain an indoor mouse that complains of all he lacks but is too ashamed to step out of the door and look for all he needs. Brother, I’m ashamed to say that I have been this mouse, everything about my existence has a dark side. I knew this because everything good I did always had a diversion.
When every conversation about you has a ‘but’ as a conjunction you’ll know that your present has joined forces with your dark history to rub your trace from the map of human existence. After all, I believe it was omission of ‘t’ in butt that formed ‘but’, nothing good comes from ‘butts’. Sometimes I wish that you were here, other times I’m glad that you left before they branded you a misfit. I have all names that I wear daily, profanities held on placards and iniquities flawlessly inscribed on my forehead. Even as I write, I have to beg my hands to continue typing, I no longer want to please them. But brother who doesn’t need approval? Especially after being spat out like spoilt milk? I have lived in denial, I have lied to myself that I don’t need anyone’s approval but the truth is there are days when I just need someone to tell me that I’m on the right track. When no one does, I fail to know my destination.
Brother, I would like to tell you so much, about technology, there’s whatsup, facebook, twitter, IG among others but this short letter isn’t really about me and my space; it’s about you! Why did you leave so quickly?
Do you know how painful it is to live as two different beings in one lifetime?
I’d love to say I hate you, but hate arrived late when the apartments of my heart were already in rubbles, all that’s left is tiny cage holding my love for you hostage. This love has been held here for so long I need to check its expiry date. How irrational of you to depart and leave a part of you? Do you know we shared same breasts? Or did I suckle too much that you died of starvation? Tell me twin bro, I can’t find the right answer, my conscience is bugging me. Did I take all the love our mother had to offer, so much that you saw no point in living in a world devoid of love? For your consolation, mom died few years after you left, she didn’t even raise me. Does that make us even?
Brother, I need you. I have stood before the mirror so many times just tracing a hint of your face but nothing forms that could depict the beautiful image my heart holds of you. Besides I see you in abstracts, nothing physical, whenever I think of you I see love, kindness, creativity and tenacity. The latter is more boldly engraved than the rest, I guess this is why I believe that you were the executor because you can hold on to the wheels even when your hands they grind. I can never do that. You see, I can only form mental pictures but you were gifted to bring them to reality. You’ve rendered me useless brother, for what is the need of a dreamer without the executor?
There’s a ship in friendship that ferries friends to their destiny, but ours left me stranded at the cove as you chose a shortcut to end all this. You’re a coward, you should have looked death in the eye and told him ‘not yet, you aren’t taking me alone I am not leaving without my twin brother’
The same way there’s a hood in brotherhood, a feeling of belonging, and being appreciated, my hood scoured all the worthy memories of us, now emptiness hovers around my heart like a dark soot in a clear sky. But I still hope that one day, you’ll be here to answer my questions. I’m not done but I’ve got to go to work. I didn’t tell you, I work for seven days a week for a little pay just to keep my son alive!
I guess I fell for a cerelac babe,
no wonder our relationship has teething problems
This morning I heard Woodpecker sing
She sang melodious songs
in mournful tones
She sang of victories;
The song of a worrier
leaving a battle field
with spear in his right hand
and a shield in the left
The voices of fallen comrades
drowning his chants of praise
then tears streaked his visage
he wept for families lost
in curvy shapes and sound morals
warmth of children with innocent demeanour
The soldier wept for a future lost
of bodies disfigured
and red rivers
The Woodpecker sang it all
The plight of brave soldiers
whose sacrifices were met with greed
He returned home with nothing
but a spear in the right
and a shield in the left
Like a nightmare in a troubling sleep
home was no more
where his hut once stood
a notice now read:
“ PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESSPASS”
The woodpecker sang
Ooh, the bird sang this dawn
the dirges of heroes gone
She sang of Mboya
A great worrier of Joramogi
A worrier of pen and tongue
killed for being too good for the regime
The bird sang of Robert Ouko
A hero slain for being too intelligent
to the heads in crown
The Woodpecker sang some more
these sorrowful songs of dawn
of fireflies lost in thickness of darkness
of trumpets drowned in silence
of night’s vigilant angels
and daylight marauding devils
The bird won’t stop
Now she’s singing of tombs
split open by gods of revenge
the cries of innocent orphans heard
the cursing of the widows
awakened the wrath of Karma
the dead are awake now
coming for their dues
now be quiet the mourning bird
the village awaits the morning bloodbath
I’ll have you back someday, the glimmer of the stars will not succumb to the feral stab of the cupid you launched but will continue shining anyway. Our paths alit we’ll search for the missing pieces of our hearts in the gallows as we send prayers to the heavens to give us the glue of permanence that’ll stick us together through the test of life. ‘Babe’, you’ll call me but I will not answer, instead I will scoop you in my arms and swirl around letting the humid air of the night massage every part of you. We’ll love again.
Dear Comrades, should you be interested in the challenge, tell us your story in 100 words at the comments box. It will be a pleasure reading them.
poetry, fashion and beauty
The goal is to help make people’s lives easier
writing is my passion
Living in fellowship with God
Traveling Fashion Designers 🌼
Blossoming: A Story of Beauty, Pain, Struggle & Growth
living in the vibe of my emotions
The view from here ... Or here!
www.aviv1233.linoduba.ru/ -- ехсеllеnt timе tо find thе lаdу аnd thе sеа hоlidау уоu will рrоbаbilitу hеrе.
Trust the process
Learning to Live
Live, Learn, and Grow
I wrote my way out
Cruising Colorado and Getting the Goods!
Short stories and flash fiction
Visual works of Wayne Wolfson
It is time
by poet and essayist Constance Bourg
Fan of GOD
An Empyrean Cycle
Spend Less | Save More