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

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

What a beautiful song



Yes...one that reads your feelings so ardour
Of that your desire such splendour
As such it says; it's never a wonder
To have your smitten heart shudder
At the thought of her beauty; such grandeur.

It's a bud; even as it doesn't flower
For they too call it soft, the poplar
It also shines bright, the lopsided star.
The bud is meant to flower, the star to shine from under.
For such is this Lvov, with its tuck and splinter.

As you tread on this your crystal stair
The evening smiling with you as you stare
The pilgrim soul in you so bare
But filled with glad grace- Oh your flower!
Tulip, crocus, violet or rose- beauty beyond measure.

Let not the silken mists blind your eyes
And cause you to bow shyly as wet swans
Be cautious of jealous trouts
Don't hit your toe on linden trees
And beware of the sun's flame-white disc.

Be sure to learn the song by heart
Before you start to flatter and flaunt
It is not right for you to fight
If you learn it,it sounds right.
The sun's flame-white disc will light,
As you pursue your longing by night.


By Flora Njeru

Monday, July 2, 2012

Despite the Improbability



Do you still want to go to Turkana?
Now more than ever, with me perhaps?
Do you still think I have a nice smile?
That I am crazy?



Do you still think I am good at romancing?
That I should be a romance coach?
That I should help people get love or laid?
Because I am a master seducer!

Do you still love them, the letters?
Do I still get your heart-racing?
Do you still think I am a genius?
Would they still mush-you-out?



Would you still find it such a lovely thing, the surprise tea?
Would it still be utterly sweet?
Would you still be speechless?



Am I still your lovie?
Am I still your friend?
Am I just a “Msichana” to you now?

Will we have a next time?
So we can take more blurry photos?
So we can call the “Motorbyke” guy from the gorge?
My photography… is it still absolutely gorgeous? Wow still?

Is the waterfall still spectacular? 
Should we publish how you and I were lost in the woods
and how Spectacular it was to find the waterfall?
Was ours the shortest story ever told?