Morning, no fighting spirit left, but the balls are bubbly like a puppy.
I’ll light another joint
I’ll light another joint
The weed in my head needs company
The pain in my chest needs numbing
and the reality is too bright it hurts,
I need a blinder
I want to smoke my memory away
I weighed both of them and the dark ones won
Let me hit this spliff and shut ’em thoughts
I’ll light another joint
The weed in my head is overwhelmed
I’m getting back here,
Where faces smile
and voices sing mellow songs
but the wreckage within rusts
eroding the will to live with it
Let me hit this spliff and live, till the next puff
I’ll light another joint
The weed in my head is getting angry
Why so many games?
Why so many pains?
Why do good people do bad things to smaller people?
Why do people claim people’s bodies and label them theirs?
Betrayals and lame friendships
Concern, no, I meant curiosity;
You didn’t call because you cared,
muhfaka you just needed the story
Let me hit this spliff and see you for who you are
I’ll light another joint
The weed in my head wants to rant
About things that we do that degrade people
Why do we teach kids how to hate?
Why must we bend others to fit in our locked cages?
Don’t we know wild flowers don’t know vases?
Let me hit this spliff and remind myself of what I was before your cages
Ah, the good joint,
don’t you know how to flap your wings!
Let’s fly to a world of our folly
Yes, you can be stupid, it is allowed.
I’ve woken up lightheaded and exhausted, but the balls are happier than yours.
Sexual redemption
I feel the warmth of your pussy on my glans
how pleasure swathes my nerves
and swirls thereabouts,
a wave of emotions taking leave
short breathes
legs shaking
Oh, sexy, hold that waist down for me
I want to savor the glory of your mons,
swim in the waters of your orgasm,
baby baptise me anew,
the sinner that I am needs redemption
Of Poets, Weed, and Balls
Yesterday mi had a lengthy conversation with a poet I respect. We’ve walked the streets of Nairobi with him. We’ve eaten snacks from roadside vendors together, and we’ve also eaten at prestigious hotels where he mostly waited for me to serve so that he could have not only the same dishes but also the same quantity.
He’s a brother I hold close to my liver, you know, he’s one of those few wise men you want to consult when you’re stuck.
One time in 2015 I had Sh.200 only, and he had an event somewhere in Westlands so I asked him what he’d do if he were in my situation, he told me to buy food. He reasoned that events come and go, but hunger doesn’t understand the human language of negotiation.
He’s that real!
So, yesterday, he called, and we talked for about 45 minutes. Guess what we were talking about?
Balls!
He was concerned that all I do is talk about the balls and weed, and not writing poetry as I used to. He told me so many veteran poets have reached out to him, and at one point they had this ka-meeting discussing how to ‘help Agak get back on his feet because he’s fallen from grace’.
Lord, people care. And it’s assuring. I don’t take it lightly that poets of repute held a meeting to bring me back to the Agak they knew. Yo, that’s not concern, that’s love. And you gotta be grateful for such people.
But me, I haven’t fallen from grace yo. I might write about balls and weed and girls and everything withing the dark side of morality, but damn, my head works fine.
It’s just phases. One time you’re the poet, other times, you just want to sit yo ass down, light a spliff, and get wasted. Now it’s the phase for balls and weed, and I can’t know what I’d be doing tomorrow, but if my balls and weed posts worry you, I assure you, I am fine.
The balls are fine.
The weed is good.
And when these two are alright, then life must be good.
You, may you have people who genuinely care.
#Rollanother!
The problem with wasting your life with weed is that 90% of the time you’re too stoned to notice, and that’s the fun part. The worst part is, fuck it, is life serious with itself anyway?
Morning, we have big plans today, but the balls insist we have to begin with another hour of sleep. These ‘pair of tongs’ will lull me to destitution.
Getting to Know Achieng’
How well do you know Achiengs?
Achiengs are firstborns, even when they’re not. Achieng will be the sibling helping you to find your socks in the morning when other siblings have left for school.
She’ll be the one taking care of her sick mother; running around soliciting funds, back at home changing adult diapers and fixing catheters, and making meals and catching the bus to the hospital at visiting hours. It doesn’t matter if she has ten siblings, she’ll always take care of her parents as if she’s the only child.
They have a heart of gold.
She’ll be the sibling in whose house you can crash for unforeseen number of days when you lose your life’s bearing.
My sister June Nyawade is a testament to this, I can’t even count the number of times she shared her pocket money with me because our father never gave us, boys any money while in school. And when it was time for me to have my own crib, she’s the one who gave me the means. She was still a student!
But Achieng is a no-nonsense woman. She can be militant if you want her to be.
She’ll be the one knocking the neighbor’s door off the hinges because she’s heard a child is in distress, or a woman is getting a beating. She can risk her life for a complete stranger.
Achiengs are activists by nature. That’s why they name themselves like freedom fighters; Achieng Otieno, Achieng Omondi, Achieng Odindo. You’ll read her name twice just trying to figure the kind of mayhem she is.
Achieng is an incredibly strong woman, both physically and mentally. She can be there for you when you least expect. If you need money from Achieng but she doesn’t have, she’ll make calls to her aunt in Oyugis, Asembo, or her boyfriend in USIU, and you’ll get the cash.
When Achieng loves, she loves with everything. If Achieng loves you, you won’t even need a house to hit her genitals. In the village, Achieng can even hold an anthill for you; you hit the thang from the back and life goes on.
And they love this sex thing. And they don’t hide it. What she wants she wants, and you can’t use her love for a good dick to manipulate her!
Your beloved Vagina Mouthpiece is Achieng Omondi. Had to be an Achieng!
Also, a husband can’t scare her. If you’re married to Achieng, and then you begin playing games, you’ll be chased from your house with your clothes in a Nigerian bag.
Lastly, Achiengs are not lacking in beauty. In a pool of 10 Achiengs, 7 of them will be beautiful. Look at my homie here, Emma Nyar Asembo, isn’t she beautiful?
Morning, it’s a good day to make money, but the balls won’t get out of bed.
Weed Kills!
