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The Divine Bandit™

My life, My words, My strife, My awards, My sins, My achievements, My love, My all….

A Litmus for Love


Just Sham It

I breathe in the dust of your dead skin. My lungs turn into lanterns that hold your light.
I hold your emotions prisoner inside my ribcage.
I get tangled in your rebellious, beautiful strands of hair left on my bed. The smell of you lingers there and sends colourful, nostalgic electricity through the layers of my skin.
There are holes in my heart; wounds from wars of words fought from the trench at the edge of my bed that we never wanted to fall into.
We were to watch our dog grow old together.
But now we just fight because we speak different dialects of love.
Our relationship became a litmus for love.
And minds shouldn’t be hurt when hearts beat.
Granted, I took you for granted.

There’s an old tree in Nairobi that I want to show you and talk to you about because only you’d appreciate the language…

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Haiku Beast Day 21


Pain, pain, pass?

She will not put a ring on his ashen filter.

Pass, pass, Johnny walked by her.

Haiku Beast Day 20


I’m leaving now.

Losing pages of my heat scorched passport.

I remember the worst of times, the Ballantines.

Haiku Beast Day 19


Words of an old wise monk.
Be wary of the man who rides a white horse.
He hits harder than the law, son.

Haiku Beast Day 18


Abe sinned  like all other men.

He hatched a plan behind her hazel eyes.

Cain, you tell my brother’s reefer?

Haiku Beast Day 17


I’m engaged in a psychedelic war.

A lewd sip double they called it.

My double edged roll is now blunt.

Defend us


Life seeps from the annual annals of this anarchy full year.
Walking dark paths trodden by the voices in the shadows.
The soul sucking dementia of the valleys of death where dry bones rise to meet the gnashing teeth of humour-less mongrels.
Lost in the strange world where black lives don’t matter even to the black brothers.
The natives are walking hand in hand with the grim reaper.
They have no reservations to take away what does not belong to them.
Old age comes for our fathers, bullets for our brothers and corruption for our children.
Depression is the new elixir for the mothers and sisters because alcohol loses it’s hold in the morning.
Blood flows thin down the superhighways of unmarked speed bumps.
And we smile.
That smile when the joke is too morbid and the tear-wells are dry.
Emerge from the smoke rising from the smog on that darn hill.
Happiness is Rosberg and it has chosen to retire from you.
Your mind..minds are having a battle.
All claustrophobic in the hope that a panacea will be able to drill down through the firewalls of loneliness.
Emerge with immortal thoughts of times that were, joy unbridled.
But you know it won’t come to pass.
Because from the outside.
Everyone can see you look caged because you dared the devil of your government and they now rule with an iron fist.
The universe has crushed your ego and your purported heroism is now a memory in the mind of a villain.
You don’t believe in defenders anymore and your avengers are either dead or on vacation.
The year has pushed a shaft through your core and you are the next course at Hell’s kitchen.
Your rhymes have taken a walk to the dark side and now they walk back with the onomatopoeic footsteps of a mindless punisher.
You count down the days.
To what could be the end or the first taste of blood on your lips from the first blow.
You hope against hope.
That all will be well.
But the killers are marking your grave because Hope just committed suicide.

TheDivineBandit™ – Hoping 2016 ends soon

The Millennial In the Workplace


Blanchard LeaderChat

Smiling Young Businesswoman With People In BackgroundI am a millennial—I can’t deny it. I was born in 1992, right in the middle of the millennial generation range. I grew up in a world where children were showered with praise and everyone was a winner on Sports Day. I’ve lived in the shadow of September 11th and repeated recessions. Oh, and I love Pokémon Go, hash tags, and taking a good selfie! If you ask the people around me, they’ll probably tell you I have some of the stereotypical attributes of a millennial: entitled; easily sidetracked by technology; and wanting a better balance between my work life, my family life, and my hobbies.

Pew Research even has a quiz called “How millennial are you?” that shows where you fit on the scale and how you compare with others in your generation. I’m not entirely sure how scientific this is, but I scored a whopping…

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Mind your own womb


Somewhere there is a woman: 30, no children. People ask her, “Still no kids?” Her response varies from day to day, but it usually includes forced smiles and restraint. “Nope, not yet,” she s…

Source: Mind your own womb

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