Deep and overstood, Jesus Christ, Life, Love, Prose

Judas Iscariot: Stain or Saint?


It’s been a while since I did some prose work. The most weird part is that I barely noticed. When you have someone making your poetic juices flow. You just let your world drown in them. When you wake up dead, you swim in them and end up at the World’s End. It is when she becomes your Calypso, forgives you despite your drunkenness in her. Your scales and tentacles fall off. You’re free to play the piano and music once again soothes your cold cold soul. Now that I have written some non nonsensical purple prose that some might ask for an explanation to. I can go ahead and write about what the title and the entire post is about.

Before we go too far in the conversation. I will need to state this: I AM A CHRISTIAN, I BELIEVE IN JESUS CHRIST AS MY PERSONAL LORD AND SAVIOUR TILL THE END OF MY DAYS. I guess that will calm atheists down, I am not stepping over to your side and never will. With that said, let me indulge you in a topical discussion that I have had with some of Sanaa people before. At a religious level, people (meaning InSanaaNites) are always ready to indulge, without so much judgement. I believe that’s the way it was meant to be. The inspiration for this post came from a friend’s status update, and comical as it was. It got me thinking on some level of knowledge acquisition that most of us have learnt to suppress for fear of reprimand, “blasphemy” or being judged harshly. I will post the relevant part of the conversation that was had in the comments section of that update.

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Oh, if you wonder why the spaces up there, it is because when we (My friend and I) looked for the update on which we had this quite hilariously intellectual rather intellectually hilarious discussion, we couldn’t find it. It seemed someone had decided to report it and have it removed from his Timeline. Bollocks!! It’s his TL. Like really who does that?? *Calm down Bandit, calm down*

Anyway, the content and the questions therein that I can remember were:

  • God knew Peter’s life before he was formed in his mother’s womb. That means Jesus knew Peter would deny Him and He told him rightfully so. So question was, if Peter was really to exercise his “freewill”. Was he going to not deny Jesus and prove the Son of God wrong?
  • Of course with the line above that refers to mother’s womb brings up the discussion. Adam and Eve were not born of man. So they came from no womb. So might they actually have been the ones with the only freewill and they messed up? And is it possible, even God had not foreseen that?
  • Finally, of course the titular character. Judas Iscariot whom we called Judas “muici wa karati” while growing up which translates to Carrot Thief. Without him, someone else would have been chosen to betray Jesus, probably even Peter who clearly easily denied him. Not forgetting the doubting Thomas who even after all those miracles he had witnessed did not believe Jesus was alive again. Like dude, you were there when He raised Lazarus, why would you not believe He could raise himself? Or finally Matthew the tax collector who was more into money, the olden day KRA. 🙂 All I’m saying is, without Judas, there’d be probably be no salvation for us. We’d have had to live with the original sin. So what does one classify him as?

With the above said, it does give you something to think about. Just last Sunday I asked at a family gathering, why there are some verses of the Bible I’ve never heard read in church. Isn’t the whole book supposed to be His Word? I’ve read of rape in the Bible, concubines, Solomon was a modern day literoticist (my own word). And yet when I pen such poems I am labelled a….nah that’s a discussion for another day.

The answer I got was that these were rules that kind of disappeared with the first coming of Jesus. He became the intercessor and we are saved by believing in Him and asking him to become our Saviour. Of course one has to try to stay righteous. I use the word try because I am not sure whether any one person can achieve 100% righteousness being as the stain of the original sin is supposed to stay with all of us.

In the end, my belief in God supersedes the things that certain religions have tried to impose on human beings. The Catholic church still fights with the Protestants while they read from the same book. Ok, I understand there are some differing or additional books somewhere.

The God I serve is in my being, I feel His Love. And when it comes to His Love, 1 Corinthians 13: 4 -7 holds true. Otherwise quoted and applied in how well I know my God. He is patient, kind. He does not envy, He does not boast, He is not proud. He does not dishonor others, He is not self-seeking, He  is not easily angered, He keeps no record of wrongs once you accept Him. He does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

And I will say this as I have said before. The day I lost my religion, is the day I felt closest to God.

I’ll probably get some backlash for this but I always find it so weird. How harshly we as Christians judge. We judge the gay people, the alcoholics, the smokers etc yet commit the very engraved sins on the 10 commandments on a weekly or daily basis. And isn’t judging also a sin? Isn’t there a part in the Bible that alludes to one being judged as harshly as they judge others?

In the words of Mahatma Gandhi: “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

I am a Christian via Jesus Christ not the worldwide conflicting definition of who Christians are.

And to the person who reported our discussion, a brief word from my friend:

“May the fleas of a thousand camels be with you.”

Deep and overstood, Life, Love

BEB DAY 1


Adapting arduously allowing adjudged abandonment.

Deep and overstood, Jesus Christ, Life, Love

THE FALL


The donkey pointed him out.
But I was busy paying attention to the dry bones.
In the valley I became one with the shadow of death.
And the book I chewed was all vinegar.
With a slow hint of brandy.
But the pungent smell of stale beer emanated from it.
They must have served me the bad wine first.
I followed the star.
But she was more into undressing.
And David was not her role model.
She was not dancing to hymns.
But for the notes from the hims.
The notes she could hit.
Covered up his hits.
She ended up underground.
And not that she wasn’t discovered.
She knew many a producer.
Many had produced her.
Pimps were her brethren.
Though not twelve, they found her more apostles.
But this is not her story.

This is my truth. Not a legend nor a myth.
It’s the test of my faith.
The struggle that brought us here.
Where we rise with each trip.
We shine with each limp.
These lions don’t recognise me.
They tear at my flesh.
And what remains, they roast on a warm fire.
With their band of wise men.
The politician, the banker and the lawyer.
The test of my love, the test of my kindness.
The loss of my patience that has me recording all evils.
Revenge that brought us here.
My heart wants its due.
But vengeance is His.
My brothers sold me out.
I’m a slave in her house.
She looked back and now I’m the one who’s all salty.
Her husband has the concubines.
Yet I’m the one paying alimony.
I don’t even qualify to be dead beat.
Like Uriah, the boy isn’t mine.

But this third day, the sun shines.
He’s risen they say but I knew it before I saw it.
Because I felt His hand on my shoulder.
I felt it tug me away from that wrecking ball.
And now on His shoulders.
I won’t even ask my shoe.
I was hurt and I was bad.
I could feel my spent harmony coming back.
And with time my soul’s voice also found a place.
Because I rise like Maya Angelou
He lives in me.
No shame no guilt.
I won’t blame him, for me; He built.
And I’m his child, no longer a Gentile.
For on that wooden stick.
The one they make fun of when they speak.
He witnessed my fall, how short I was from grace.
And as the garment tore apart, he qualified me for the race.

Deep and overstood, Life, Love

My WeaKness


Have I told you I like you?
Have I mentioned the grass that grew after my luna madness dissipated?
Have I said I’m willing to leave the slow club and just go?
Have I described the nostalgia of the fresh rain on this scorched earth?
Are my guns pointed at these roses? Did I slash a hedge just to get ahead?
Is your voice such a melody that now I’m on this sound cloud?
Is your voice so husky and mine so deep that we are the new reverbnation?
Did I say I’m coming home to you? Even if you’re not white trash just beautiful, will this ever last?
Shall we go on and leave each other breathless? Shall you join this course?
Have I promised to change who I am? Probably give my friend his nickel back?
Have I confessed the biting of fingers? The biting that lingers?
Is it just the sun that won’t go down or is it the starry eyes of Andromeda that have me in constant warmth?
Am I writing or have I taken the road less traveled and now I’m just addled by the frost?
Is that maybe why my lips are purple? Hibiscus words collate at the meniscus of those tears they say we should discuss.
Do the scenes that play in my mind remind me of you two?
Does this seem vaguely familiar to the loss of my space?
Should I move to a sports car and just let this van go and play it by ear?
Should I chase my music and just let myself glide into your beat heaven?
Is it time to figure it out and just have more of that?
Is my new canvas well stretched out? Should I just pawn off my easel just so I can boast that I make some more notes?
Is it time I taught? Is it time I gave you my current notes?
Should I take the leap, come up with a riff that will give off some new notes?
Have I told you I like you?

Tags: Vincent Willem van Gogh Macklemore YouTube Guns N’ Roses Slow Club ‪#‎RobertFrost‬ Everlast Slash Nickelback ‪#‎Beethoven‬ ‪#‎Mozart‬ ‪#‎Figaro‬Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie ‪#‎PurpleHibiscus‬ SoundCloud ReverbNationMyspace The Corrs – Official page

Sanaa

#SanaaChallenge Day 2


IMG_20140910_152601

 

I lost a lot of rights.

I was a prisoner in their sights.

Looks more to the wrong than to the rights.

Crossed the road and now my murder she writes.

The judge eyed me suspiciously as she ignored my fights.

They had misspelled my name taking grammar murder to new heights.

Now in a dark gloomy cell, we share stories with a new comrade as a blunt he lights.

It’ll be a good night after all, across the room at the threshold, a female guard eyes me and her lip she bites.

 

 

Sanaa

#SanaaChallenge Day 1


This is the first of 5 pieces to be done by Sanaa members this week. You basically take a photo a day and write a piece about it.

IMG_20140909_154812

Eating healthy to avoid adding weight.

Looked at the pilau and decided not to tempt fate.

He’s all too aware of those instant grams.

Plus, it’s her favourite food.

Sent the picture to her but not on Instagram.

Hot like the pepper that makes him feel so good.

The talk with the waiter was that the fork was a joke.

Because he couldn’t scoop any of the food with soup.

Food almost chokes him in his BIG hurry.

Very SHORT of time to taste the curry.

A great full beginning to this challenge.

Turning back around, he forgot his change.

Deep and overstood, Dionysus, Haiku

Haiku Beast Day 9


Being frisky is risky and not my wish key.

My thirst is still here despite the long island tea.

But it was handy when I met Brandy.

 

 

Deep and overstood, Life, Love

INHEARTERATED


It’s like she saw my MASTERPIECE.

STOLE a glance at it.

Made a FRAME for it.

And now as I take my STAND.

She knows the VERDICT lies in her PILFERING eyes.

They took a small pART of me that had the most of me.

GUILTY by PAINT.

Her face is still red from her first CRIME.

She mistook my words for a BRUSH and BLUSHED for a better portrait.

My PALETTE was late and now here I stand charged with CONTEMPT of COURTSHIP.

I rushed my CASE and now I’ve been served with her CORPORAL punishment.

No I did not ESCAPE.

Despite her COLLAGE I was never AT LARGE.

The hyperbole of the DEFENSE team.

Was way larger than the CARICATURE in my mind.

She wanted me to run because they gave me no BAIL.

And my DOODLE towards her CHAMBERS was a CAPITAL OFFENSE.

So I let my heART be the COLLATERAL.

I will SERVE LIFE as my SENTENCE.

Carve this into my JAIL walls.

The MOSAIC will come into view at the end of this SENTENCE.

Uncategorized

This Is Why Some People Should Not Be Allowed To Advise Others


Dear Auntie Wanja,

When is the right time for a woman to have sex with a man she just started dating?

Connie

Dear Connie,

It depends on your schedules. If both of you work during the day, then you can have sex in the evening and vice versa.

Love,
Auntie Wanja

Love, The Teenage Years

THE BALL IS IN YOUR COURT


I need to explain that this piece is not fully my original work. I translated it from pidgin from a very old tattered book when I was in high school. I found said book in a dark musty corner of the Alliance High School Junior/Grieve Library. I edited it and also changed words to get a rhyme scheme. I have spent years Googling some of its sentences hoping to find the original piece. But finally I have given up on it having a soft-copy version. So for now I will give credits to anonymous. It has been a long time coming for this piece to be sent out to the world. Words are like seeds, and from them, knowledge grows at whose foot wisdom sits to restart the process all over again.

My darling love, my little love

My dumpling, my sweet cake

My sweetheart, I go for you

Like how flies go for sugar

 

As I put my pen on paper

And my nib starts to fly

I very well remember

The first day you caught my eye

 

You had just come off your car

A bus was to your right

A car swept by your left ear

And you stood up, stiff with fright

 

 

Don’t scorn my little letter love

I know my writing is poor

My training not good, but what

I can’t spell, I will draw

 

Courtesy of: http://www.ashtoncollege.com/theimportance-face-face-communication/
Courtesy of: http://www.ashtoncollege.com/theimportance-face-face-communication/

 

See how I draw the two faces

They look at each other

One is you and one is me

Choose any one you’d rather

  

Courtesy: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/1-ring-finger-frank-tschakert.html
Courtesy: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/1-ring-finger-frank-tschakert.html

This is not a cockroach’s foot

It’s a finger with a ring

It means I want to marry you


 

And this line is a piece of string

 

Take and put it around your finger

On your wedding hand

Make sure you get the right size

Then give to this man

ed2

 

The man is now I, Smooth Spice

Keep swelling till I see you next

Accept my young heart while I close

With love and lots of good thoughts