Of Poets and Whores

She’s a girl who’ll be known for her balls
Whoever she encounters she hardens or breaks
She shines with the moon
Arresting the glory of goddesses
My chest heaves at her expectations
Sure, to get laid is a given
But to satisfy a woman is an art
She isn’t your everyday whore
She’s a liberated woman
feigning arrest by hormones
Everything takes shape in her wake
She gobbles my man like a hungry tigress
Yeah she is hungry
She hunts and thrills at her kill
Tonight I’m her prey
She takes her time
A sinister smile spreads on her lips
“This way”
I obey
She rides at top speed then slows down
Then accelerates
Then I die
She’s gone like smoke that leaves no trail
Somebody find her
I swear I would trade my mansion in heaven for the thrill of her ride

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Loving Right

Tender heart
You are a girl who’ll be remembered for soft things;
Velvety touch,
moist lips,
Tender heart
And most importantly;
Loving the wrong man right

Slaves of Self

profile pic

I’m still finding myself
Discovering what exists
missing what’s gone
To know is to be bare
To scrutiny
fingers gliding over my body
My skin shivers
An enemy traversing
Isn’t it heartbreaking
Losing trust in self
Gather what you scattered
It’s self-destruction
And indulgent spirit
And the cycle continues
Indulge, regret
regret, self-loathe
When desires enslave you
A puppet
remote-controlled by rage
What you stand for tumbles
When ego upsurges

No Resolutions for 2018

Early this year I had a stint with a lady who kept telling me that I’m too hard on myself. I didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t party, didn’t bet, didn’t …my guard was always on duty, never down. We were not in a relationship, I didn’t own her, she didn’t own me, we just kind of made an unspoken vow to be present for each other whenever testosterone hiked.
I enjoyed the simplicity of the game; there were no entitlements, Just shaky expectations, longer erections and fleeting orgasms. Man, for all the yearnings it felt good being laid by an adult–on birth control.
My routines changed and so was hers, we spent more nights awake and more days lost in lust or nursing our tired genitals. Those were the days I could spend 24 hours in my single room naked. We ate and snacked sex. Nights became shorter and so were the days. In no time, the good boy that vowed never to smoke a thing got his first puff of weed and more followed. In short, my 2017 resolutions lost meaning in January.
I made amends quickly, and today 2017 is one of those years that have brought me immense blessings. I won’t list any here though. I made resolutions that I haven’t accomplished, some were silly af, some were too obvious and some just plain boring. I might not be proud of how the year began, but I’m grateful I met someone who taught me how to let my guard down. As crazy as it sounds, I’m thrilled I did stuff I swore I’d never do. Life is too short to follow routines, too short to keep it together, too short to be a perfect son, too short to be a role model, too short to be sober all the time. So even as 2018 approaches, I won’t make any damn resolution, I just want to live as wild as life was meant to be; smoke a little, read more books, make more enemies, sleep more, slap my landlord with a whole year rent, dance more, scream more ( in this life try hard not to be my neighbor) and just be a little bad, you know, I’ve gotta find something to be forgiven for.
My advice to you as you enter 2018 is to do something that freaks you out; something as odd as having a quickie backstage 5 minutes to your cue in a play you’re the main act! Feel the rush, the dum dum in your chest. Yes, remind yourself, you are only human. Happy New Year folks.
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You Belong Here

how-to-build-confidence-through-meditation.jpg
Even on nights that won’t depart
Yearnings that know no gratitude
When love leaves
A peace spring from the floors of my stomach
A gentleness that subdues the restlessness of my heart
Blames for the past, loathe of the present and caution for the future
I hear a small voice, far away
Whispering affirmations
“You belong here”
Silence
“You were meant to be here”
Silence
“You’re complete”
Rising tempo
“You’re not crippled”
“You’re whole”
“You’ll live to testify of the glory of submission”
“The wreckage behind is made anew”
“The fire within sparkles with assurance of greater possibilities”
“Your racing heart leaves an indelible track of health, no illness can ever erase that”.
Slow pace
“You have a past, yes, your presence troubles you, yes”
Silence
“Just smile”
“He who made you, laid a fortress around your heart. It won’t stop beating till your empire is built to completion”
Silence
Deep breath in
Out…
close your eyes; see the beauty within
See the tranquility within
As within, so without.
*meditationchnicles*

Tears

Don’t be worried when I shed tears. Be worried when I stop.
When I shed tears, it means I’m dealing with it like a man should. when I stop it means my system is broken, it can shut down any minute.
#MindMyMind #M3Movement #MentalHealthKE #MHAW2017 #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek2017kwajwa.jpg

Scripted Anew

chained
Forget about pain and pleasure
Forget about right and wrong
I know no difference
I haven’t had both
It’s like destiny is one hell of a monstrous dictator
Who chains and tortures his subjects
Till they grow numb; to pain or pleasure or affection
I have been here too long
And though it can’t pass for a home
It is all I know
So I’ll write some more
About chains
Fastened on anchor and cast in the sea depths
About life in apathy and lungs lifting chests for that gulp of air
About deafness of friends
And blindness of family
About emptiness within
About lies I’ve told to prove I’m just alright
Today I’ll change the script
I’ll write my own
Riddled with bitter truths
For he who needs direction
Must tell of his true destination
I’m broken, Lord, fix me
I’m lost, please find me
I’m worthless, create me anew
I’m lonely, be a friend

Bruises and clots

We will fight again tonight
Like we always do when liquor fills the receptacles of our souls
My spirits will be on vacation
With reason and gentleness as escorts
The love we’ve been weeding all these years will melt into blood under fumes of fury

Whose blood will it be?
I pray it be mine
The kitchen floor hasn’t regained its lustre
No more pints for you

I also pray the neighbours will mind our business
Save you from me
And me from the law
I hate fights
But I love make-up sex

I love how we grow tender with each other
Even before the bandages leave our wounds
In the midst of it all; the blood, the swearing, curses and regrets, remember I love you

In my own strange way

I love your sad moments and your happy days too
I love your torn lips, your bruised face, bloodshot eyes
I love your limping feet
For in these moments of darknes
When beauty vacates
Kindness grows
Generosity takes root
And we love more than the promise our looks sculpted

We will fight tonight baby
Let’s fight even harder tommorow for what shall remain of ourselves

I'm the last words of a slain poet

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