LETTER TO DEAR EX PROFESSOR. I hope this letter finds you in the best of moods that you may acquaint yourself with every word and emotion engraved in it and not trash it in the expensive bin the way you have always done to my blurred ambition . I won’t beat around the bush just as you don’t, and so through this ink I face you without a full stop of fear because now is now as there is never another chance to tell the truth. First I want to let you know I’m much and much more disappointed with you beyond measure or any other form of calibration or degree than the way you were disappointed with my Afro kinky hairstyle when I met you in the lift going out for lunch in a swanky hotel somewhere in town I guess. Hey pretty professor you still judge people by their looks? Oh damn… Is it your ego or doctorate trying to disapprove the old adage “DO NOT JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER” ? Well I have no degree of my own I guess that’s what makes you see me as a senseless walking creature.
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Parenting and parenthood For long I’ve wanted to write about this but I remember that it’s a subject that I’m still a freshman to. With such timid knowledge and experience on the subject matter, I have always felt like a blind man leading those of similar sight as his because of the of the ocean ahead and the deepness of this ‘invisible’ trench. However that within has a way of finding its way out and mostly life must be lived without experience and for that matter we base our truths on knowledge apriori as clarified by Kant. It is this assertion that energises me as if I am holding a can of energy drink to my mouth even though I personally never feel energised after passing a pair of them down my throat. In my mid-twenties I sometimes feel like I have been too long around on this soggy ball floating in space. One thing that kind of scares (for lack of a better softer word) me is parenthood. Looking around I see lots of peers with little ones and others bellies h
Phenomenal feminine I want a girl A girl with head head like marie curie A lady with a voice bolder than Maya's A woman with dreams dreams that Sir Ellen Johnson sirleaf awes at A woman with visions that surpass those of Joan of arc’s A brave mother Definitely Wangu Wa Makeri's bravura I need me a phenomenal feminine With a jewish stand on a saturday afternoon To calm me this beasts too I need me a phenomenal feminine
Wild Goose Sometimes I have to lie, but I do it for you You don’t lie, but I know you do it for I The rains hit us, neither did the wind forget to maul us, but hands we clasped...firmly than a mortise lock Neither did the hell hot sun evaporate the highly volatile images perceptibly floating in us Our souls burn brightly in each others eyes The long timeless stares remind me of doctrinal miracles and the unseen forces of physics and chemistry So we found ourselves unconscious converts Of this invisible imaginary religion with no god abracadabra or science and pragmatic theory To assert its origin For no particular thing pulled us together If not this complicated entombed emotion that sits on and o'er Philosophy intoxicatingly caressing psychology goofily That’s the kind of love our dreary and weary souls wild-goose chased