Tag Archives: George Agak

Pilfered

Worms have invaded my mind
Nothing left between my ears
Just here tryna love this hollow husk
But love is evasive
I’ll try living instead
pilfered

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Nothing Underneath

Mirror Mirror on the wall, what do you know that I don’t
Tell me, is there anything left in this soul
Is there any life left in this body
Is there honour in my ways?
Coz expectations and realities are worlds apart
And I’m kind of held back by fear that won’t depart
Held back by thoughts of a past
Regrets that leave no pass
Guilt that scotch my soul
I am a burnt offering that gods rejected
So vultures hang around
Waiting for the fire to die down
Before they rip my flesh to shreds
You see that is a part of me
Blood-soaked sand
A libation to the underworld
A cocktail for fresher’s party
My soul swoons with should haves
And should nots
But here souls like mine that figured life out but never lived dance to snores of death
Wishing, Wishing, wishing and praying to a god we never believed in
Just asking for one chance to live and truly live for 1 minute
But I’m no longer in control
No longer the dominant, entitled human
Emotions swish over logic I am a prisoner of self

Yes, that is a part of me
Tear it down to its roots
The spirit was weak so the body indulged
And then, guilt surmised
Please don’t gobble my eyes, I want to see you destroy this body;
A perfect home I couldn’t live in
Trust me I’ve died many deaths before I died
So don’t try to make it easy
I just want to enjoy the moment of loss
To lose it all isn’t the problem
Whom to lose it for is
To leave this body isn’t the problem
Whom to gift it to is
Insecurities plaguing humanity
My heart doesn’t trust its case
So how can I trust you with my body?

Mirror Mirror on the wall, what you know that I don’t?
Tell me about my nakedness, exhume this body I’ve always buried under the tombstones of my smiles and laughter
Tell me about brokenness dancing to drumbeats of fine-how-do-you-dos
See, broken guitar strings tell tales of sweet melodies before the tragedy
So sing me my melodies mirror.
Tell me about weather beaten paths to dilapidated dreams
Tales of despair evicting hope and destitution settling in

(Breath)

Mirror on the wall,
Is there more to this nakedness than a six-inch penis
On a bushy pubis that hangs, throbs and oscillates freely like a bob on a pendulum
It devours thick chicks
In six-inch Prada heels
I lure with cheap gifts
It is a gift
Ninjas won’t stop asking for my cheat sheet
The truth is, I’m gifted at many things
But I’m perfect at self-destruction
Sorry father, I’m not the perfect son you prayed for
But realize between expectations and realities is a graveyard
So many lives rot within
So many dreams lost unlived
So please, congratulate me for just being alive
I can never apologize for self-destruction
What destroys me thrills me
And my kind of freedom is weird
I indulge my addictions like Hindus do chants
I’m leaning to nail my coffin
Exposing the turmoil within
For the world to see
So mirror Mirror on the wall
Is my wreckage beyond salvage?
The mirror stares in silence
Afraid I’ll break it if it dared tell the truth
That there’s nothing underneath

Love Thyself

Everyday is battle
Every battle is a chance to conquer
We rise to win love
That which we owe ourselves
Self love is what we need; forget acceptance
Find it in dark alleys
Find it in lonely nights
Let it grow big enough to fill your trinity
That no space is left: for suicidal thoughts to roam
For conformity to sprout
For depression to take root
For standards to rate you
Give a little there, give a little here and reserve more love for yourself
For love comes to those who love themselves.

Good Evening Friend👋

Cornmeal porridge

I love poetry. This might be because it is the only form of art that allows free expression. No rules, just heart-pouring. Being a poet, I often find myself thinking about things people never even notice. Yesterday, as I walked to church, I saw this beggar, sitting by the side of the road, whistling people to come close and drop something in his cup.

None came, all of them walked at a safe distance as if they feared he might pounce on their wallets. However, some came closer to the beggar and just as his hopes rose, they passed without looking his way. And I learn’t that those who walked at a safer distance were better that the latter who deposited dusts from there steps into the beggar’s cup.

I stood glued. As he kept calling, I imagined him shaking dust off the cup in while murmuring to himself “if dust was cornmeal floor, i’d have a cornmeal porridge”. And I moved past in steady strides, repeating the rituals of prior passers-by, church was waiting.

Woodpecker Mourns

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
beautiful wives
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

1oo Words Challenge

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.

Hearts will shrink

There comes a day when reality will spill on the pages of our lives, when your heart will shrink to encapsulate the little I offered. And we’ll weep why love always is an improper fraction, weighty expectations on malnourished shoulders