Thursday, January 17, 2013

Rhythmic healing

It was me calling, in the middle of the night
Tired of running, I wanted instead, to fight
Because I was aching, from a wound
A painful cut of betrayal, decades old
Threatening to rip my insides apart

That night, I chose to call you
Because you are aloof to my pain
Which strangely makes you strong
Stronger than I have dared to be
Power over my weakness

You understood; without a word spoken
that, I didn't want love, not that night
I didn't want care, at least not then
I needed healing, and I found it there
In the pounding inside your chest
Your heart rhythmically consoling mine

Rocking me in your tight embrace
Quiet like the snow, yet so warm
Tranquility descended on me
A rare peace washed over me

I hoped that is what forgiveness feels like.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013


Most times one has a good night's sleep,
Other times one get's so worked up
That all one can do is turn and toss
Clench and un-clench, curse and curse.

Often times it can be narrowed down
To one's poor judgement of character...
So poor that it haunts them
Even in the deep of sleep.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

To be wanted

For someone to fix her in a gaze
Is all she wanted.

For that someone to find
Irresistible in her form
Breathtaking in her lips
The milky way in her eyes
A treasure worth digging
A blizzard worth braving

Enough was being said
But she wanted to feel it
In the beat of his heart
As he leaned into her
by her femininity so unique
He would be unable to peel himself
off of her…

He would want her unashamedly,
Unashamed indeed, for he would know
With a knowledge so intimate
That what stands in his presence
Is royal, if not goddess
He would be painfully aware
Of every second lost
Painful indeed, for he would know
With a knowledge so profound
That what is in his possession
Is rare, if not divine.

It dawns on her
This is romantic
Only when it doesn’t happen.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Rudisha, my man!

Let’s talk about a man, a man about a shoe, a man about to shine… oh wait, he has already shone, this man, at the tracks, smack in the middle of the Olympics, the whole world watching. Certainly confident of his capabilities, he embarked on a journey, a path walked before by our very own Wilson Kipketer; fear aside, sights set high, he set out to out-shine history and out-do himself. The city was London and the year was twenty twelve.

We were all there singing the song on our lips, about the colours of our national pride, the black, the white, green and the red, that which unites us and reminds us about who we are and from where we have come. We know deep in our hearts we can bank on the dependable, the things common among us, we say we are champions in athletics and that is because we know we are. We celebrate these things that bring us together, the little but powerful things we share, like the shoe polish we all use, that can of Kiwi, a symbol of quality, durability and a shine like no other, doesn’t matter who you are young or old, Kiwi has got something for you and your shoes; the polish, the wax, the cleaner, the dye, doesn’t matter your preferences, they got you covered in black, dark tan, light tan, mid tan, brown, burgundy, neutral, navy blue, you name it.

Rudisha did it before, and he has done it again, no fear, just faith, the faith that forges forward, the faith that nurtures and trains for victory, the faith that consistently and triumphantly wins, the faith that moves mountains and breaks records, the faith that renews, restores and sets new records. This is the same faith a mother has in her children, the faith that they will turn out alright, the faith that they will learn and practice the lessons they learn, that they will shine in all aspects, hair to shoe, that they will always remember the basics, like how to maintain their leather shoes; that when you make an investment in something, you take care of it, you nurture it, you clean it, you polish it, you make it shine, you make it last longer because that is the reflection of who you are and where you come from.

This man we talk about, is a shining star, a knight in shiny gear and shining shoes a son of the land, home to many a shining stars and he doesn’t let that hinder him from polishing his own star with a touch of Kiwi, giving it a shine like no other, Kwani hakuna mng’aro kama mng’aro wa Kiwi, Kiwi hung’arisha, Kiwi huboresha na Kiwi hutunza. His is a touch of speed, steady lead; a touch of grace, dignified pride; the Midas touch, golden medals;  a gentle man, humbling humility; composed, the perfect portrait of a together young man; a hardworking fellow who takes the time to groom and takes pride in his appearance; a reflection of his status.

He has brought us fame and more, taught us lessons lasting forever more: patience, persistence, resilience and excellence, he is the embodiment of greatness. Poised, even in the face of unimaginable expectations; he is not, deterred by the deafening cheers but feeds off the positive energy, the faith of those watching, he is motivated by the goal ahead, the line at the finish of the 800 metres stretch. The city was Beijing and the year was twenty zero six

Let’s talk about the father and the son, let’s remember  and celebrate the husband, the father, the patriot and the passing down of the mantle of ethics, hard work and excellence, generation after generation of daughters and sons who learn from history, who hear that inner call and answer boldly, who run not away but towards their destiny.

Thursday, August 9, 2012


I look at you and I want to cry

I look at you and I want to embrace you

I look at you and I wonder why

I look at you and I wonder how

I look at you...And it's me I see.

I see you and I shudder

I see you and my mind is in a fit

I see you and I want to hurt you

I see you..and I hate that I like what I see

I see you, and it's me I see.

I think of you and my heart aches

I think of you, and tears overpower me

I think of you and my strength fails me

I think of you and I want to die

I think of you...And it's me I see.

I don't cry much but I cry over you

I think much...

It's you I'm thinking about

I love much, but I never love you

I care much, but I don't care for you.

I laugh much, but I don't laugh with you.

I wish to embrace you though, but I can't.

What I don't understand is my hate for you

Yet...I AM YOU.

By Gatavi

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Gypsy love

How do you love the gypsies?
The lovers of many a love
They of a thousand interests
And hundreds of missions

They of many horses
Stallions of many colours
Hues from blacks to whites

Committed to a million journeys
Travelling through dark waterways
Discreet alleys and dangerous woods

They that thrive and enjoy
The comfort of a trillion homes
Abodes on nests and caves
Owning them not, leaving naught trace

Destinations unknown, but arrived at nonetheless
Reasons unspoken, yet understood, intrinsically
Strings unattached, albeit there, unmistakably

Songs sang and unsung, in a single breath
Memories made and unmade, instantaneously
It’s as if they never were but are, still
As though gone but their presence behind, left

Like a vivid dream, tears still rolling
A beautiful sunset, darkness setting in fast
A lovely summer, petals lie scattered
A full moon, a false light

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Tumi and the Volume - Yvonne

They say a thin skinned drum
Makes the loudest beat
I am fairly grounded amidst the bullshit
My harvest is sweet
I walked passed a crowd of creeps
The type who rob and speak
Like their résumé requested what they do upon the streets
I was adamant that I wouldn’t get
Involved with these ignored them peeps
I just kept my walk discreet
A few blocks later boom!
Sister’s aura is sweet
Initial shock left my heart with a faulting beat
“See I could live of yours if my heart stopped for weeks
May I walk with me, I mean you sorry my name is Tumi
Omar Salih when I am prying to the maker of your beauty
Couldn’t help but admire what’s your name little cutie?”
She said ‘I am in a rush thus don’t be a fuss
I mean for fucks sakes I need to catch the bus” “wait
It must be fate you sway to the soundless rhythms
Of club deejays, I don’t normally do this
But I don’t commonly view this
Sisters in the city got a thing for playing nudist
And you are fully dressed truly next to odd
So I pursue it give me your name and number
Where you been last summer
I know your world eagerly welcomes new comers
Come on!’ I grabbed her by the wrist and went on
“Forget the bus you look like you like the loud type
The fist in the air the fat black and lovely proud type
That’s me Tumi at your service with a purpose
I can play Biko and make white people nervous
Besides the taxi is cheaper
Damn it’s good to meet ya, come on!
Do I really have to ask again sweetheart?”
“Okay for goodness please hears my number get off your knees
My name’s Yvonne look man I really have to leave”
And with that I added more bounce to my stroll
I couldn’t wait two days
I went home and made the call
“Hallo, can I talk to that pumpkin Yvonne?”
“She got raped this afternoon she can’t come to the phone”
Hard day at work stains the face
But I was looking pretty
A five minute walk, through this place
Takes an hour in the city
See brothers act rude and throw gestures at you
Some will even try to grab like you in a petting zoo
You gotta get fully dressed and not summon suggestions
That will get you pressed to brothers
Thinking you show interest
I may be bugging but it’s like slavery or something
These cats mastered the art of space invasion but fuck it
I will deal with it tell them straight
How they make me feel and shit
It gets to a point where I feel conflict is imminent
Two blocks form the bus stop
This kid looking love struck
Mumbles something at me and I say nothing at he
Lord have mercy here’s another lusting at me
“Look I am in a rush thus don’t be a fuss
I mean for fucks fakes I need to catch the bus”
Ay these cats are made to frustrate/straight up
Grabbed me by my wrist I didn’t play that
He looked a little cute talking loud on his knees and shit
And brothers started looking he was smiling
Very pleased with it
I gave him my name and number and left suddenly
But still missed the bus I cussed this kid for loving me
Slapped from behind I turn around
There two in front of me
I am shaken I gave ‘em my purse
Thinking they mugging me
When the other two drag me to the nearest shrubbery
Pulls my lips to his unzips the jeans
And rips the seems
Knocked unconscious in attempts to scream