Deep and overstood, Life, Love

HEARTS FOR DESSERT

The Divine Bandit

He paused for breath. He had been running for so long. He could only hear the slow almost non-existent wind in the barren wasteland.

“Why did he choose to run towards the wrong exit?”

Immediately the first shot was fired. He knew it had been a set up. There had been another sniper on the opposite rooftop. They had paid him all that money just to get him out in the open.  He tried to lick his lips but his tongue felt like sandpaper on tanned leather. He checked for his side pistol. At least he had managed to scramble out with that.

This day was working towards rivaling his worst days on the job before. It had been off since early morning as he left the house. He almost forgot his silencer. And then his backpack strap came off just as he boarded the cab. The cling and clatter of the black metal had to be hurriedly explained to the cabbie as plumbing tools. His blue overall sold the story. But now standing under the scorching sun, he cursed his outfit of the day. (#OOTD) A sly smile cracked his already parched mouth as he remembered how he figured out the meaning by himself the first time he saw it on the cursed Instagram. The same app they had used to point out the target.

Some hungry looking birds flew overhead becoming one with the dimming horizon. Not even as much a Tweet but just observing how exhausted his Face Looked. They were flying lower and lower.  And slowly they invaded His Space.

*****

He had been working in this profession for 7 years now. He had started at 20. The first job was to clean up after another assassin and he almost got shot in the process. Two years later he had his longest assignment yet. He had to learn all about the target before the primary assassin was sent in. He studied her faithfully, followed every movement. He had his heart and soul all in only to find out at the end of the second year that he was the chosen one to shatter her heart into bits.

He had grown fond of the target. Two years of following her as she went by her daily activities had established a connection. It was no wonder the bullet went through her arm without causing any permanent damage. He had missed his first major target.

He ran away. He feared that his employers would come for his head. In spite of this, they still managed to get a hold of him via his contacts. He was relieved to find out that the target was too important and only he had the information on how to track her.  He was safe to come out into the dark world again and continue with the job.

She had gone underground after the attempt on her life. It did not take long for him to find her though skilled as he was. Getting her out in the open was the hard feat to achieve. She was cautious and paranoid. She had learnt her lesson and no one was going to convince her otherwise. It was finally life in the shadows that gave him a helping hand. Bored of hiding and dropping her caution once, she brought her head out for some air and sun.He was ready this time. He was there with his scope aimed at her heart. As he pulled the trigger, a tear streamed down his cheek and landed on his feet just as she hit the ground.

**

He had become the man to his peers. He had brought down the most evasive target ever. He would however never be proud of this first kill. He had got too sucked into the assassin to target (ATT) relationship. He decided he would ask for information from others from now on and just be the trigger man.

One month later, he had his next assignment. He had all the information. He was ready. All his equipment was well packed. He had long suspected that the target had recognized him once at the bar. It seemed he had been sent to kill a retired fixer. So he decided to investigate. She was not so retired after all. She still had all her old files including his; and “protection” hidden in a compartment in her dresser. Now he was sure she knew who he was. With this new information update he decided he would hit her that night. He waited in the dark living room when it was time for her to come home. He could hear her keys jingling at the door. Just then, his pager beeped and he saw the luminous words: “OPERATION TERMINATED”. He felt a tinge of annoyance as he slunk back in the shadows and leaped off the fire exit. For once, a target he was ready for was the one who was cancelled.

*****

Now here he was. After years of successful work. He was now at the top of the food, hood and loot chain. He had finally accepted another job that required him to do the full reconnaissance. This would be for a shorter period of only a year so he was prepared and he had experience before not to fall for the target. However, he had barely finished up with his recon when the order to off the target came in. That is how he ended up perched atop the tower like a gargoyle doing his walk of shame. Waiting for the target. The devil was in the air though. He could smell her, feel her, taste her. And just as her car pulled up, a moth flapped his wings by his right eye and as he moved his head to the left, a bullet whizzed past his right ear…

Soon-after the night became lit up by gunfire from about three submachine guns aimed at him. Oh dear Hell! There was more than one person sent to take him out. Maybe it was because of that old target of his. The one he missed then broke both of them with a single shot. This was no time for mind journeys though. He had no choice but to drop his belongings and run. By now they would have his prints. The Law was already after him. He was spent and thirsty. His career as well as his life would be done now.

*****

He looked up, it was growing dark again. He heard the baying of dogs coming closer. He pulled out his hand gun. The night was serene and the moon was bright that night. He took in the divine scenery. He cocked his gun as he heard shouting getting closer. He looked down from the sand dune. They were too many. There was an army of about 20 men and 10 dogs looking for him.Whether it was the cops or his old mates turned foes he couldn’t tell. Was there ever really a difference though? He had had cops facilitate his data gathering on targets before.

He closed his eyes. He remembered how he had nonchalantly etched her name onto all his bullets out of boredom. She would be the last thing on his mind, he thought as he put the gun to his temple. As his finger tugged on what he already knew was a hair-trigger, he reminisced about what he had always known. He would die a bandit.

Deep and overstood, Jesus Christ

21st CENTURY DISCIPLE

The Divine Bandit

No longer walking in the Spirit, he is fighting the spirits by drowning in the spirits.

A ghost of his old self, fighting ghosts, he is missing the Holy Ghost.

The TV told him money, sex and drugs.

His pastor took his money to buy sex and drugs.

Lost in his pursuit of happiness

He has lost his suit of happiness.

Red eyes, no tears. He is full of whys and most fears.

He heard they were fishers of men.

Went out and ended up on the wrong side of the Internet.

His coat of many colors, changing faces.

The courtroom had many colors, alcoholism phases.

He had an angel trying to help him.

But all he saw was her ass.

He is skipping the beginning to read Songs of Solomon.

He knows not the end, believes his shisha puff might be the first trumpet.

They said there would be gnashing of teeth.

So he went and got himself some gold ones.

His pants hang low but his heart sinks lower.

His hair is long but he is no Nazarite.

He turns to looks at a girl and puts too much salt on his food.

He is yelling and questioning, no one to strike him dumb.

The grass he smokes does not strike him as dumb.

He is floating on a stream.

Away from the king’s daughter.

He is trying to part the sea.

Using his credit card before he sniffs it in.

He is fighting men bigger than he is.

His slingshot has metallic smooth stones too.

He is chewing the evidence.

His small ledger is as bitter as vinegar.

The cops have him; they found his valley of dry bones.

The judge washes his hands off the case.

A new condo and Bentley are the cause of a mistrial.

He did not even need to plead not guilty thrice before he won the case.

They call him a superstar.

Now he believes he is God’s son.

He is high up on the ledge.

He is hoping that angels will be sent to rescue him.

The only white he sees is the clouds.

Just before his face and the pavement become one.

He is choking on his own blood.

No one around so the rain washes the stains away.

He forgot about that Lamb’s blood.

That washes his sins away.

In his dying breath he remembers.

He owns up, asking for forgiveness.

Instead of darkness, he is now bathed in pure light.

Now walking in the Spirit, he has defeated the spirits no longer drowning in the spirits.

A real ghost of his old self, no more fighting ghosts, he has met the Holy Ghost.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

REFLECTIONS

The Divine Bandit

I hold this pen and contemplate. Should I rhyme or just alliterate?

I have made this a habit. To always see rhythm in my work as fit.

I sometimes think of how; my memory will make heads bow.

But I always end the thought with a smile. For I know I won’t be dead for a while.

Or possibly the Good Lord won’t let it be. His plans are all that matter to me.

To be an artiste who believes in Him. It’s quite a hard feat as being inquisitive is part of my realm.

To be remembered after I am gone. Not in a sad way that leaves someone forlorn.

Neither does it have to be by the whole world. Just to those who matter and in whose hearts I will be found.

My thoughts have always been weird. But rarely in my writing has this reared.

In my stables I have chewed the cud. Watched every morning as the roses opened up from the bud.

Hysterically I laugh and my sadness sometimes hits bottom. It is part of life, c’est la vie a fitting idiom.

Some have questioned my sanity. While others, when they get to know me; my insanity.

I have enjoyed every aspect of my life. Happy times have overruled the strife.

I have learnt to enjoy each day to the full. I do not waste any second like a fool.

Be it in my own cocoon or among friends. I make sure to smile at the fads and social trends.

I have always loved a good quote. Smiling at how oblivious of that phrase the writer must have been as he wrote.

My writing might find its way to a Presidential speech. Probably on a lover’s tongue as he serenades his damsel on the beach.

But all I need is for it to be remembered by just one. To have it treasured as a folded paper back that has been worn and torn.

I work in an office and I love it. Not because of the money that makes ends meet.

But because of the growth I experience. I get to meet people who make me happy by their existence.

I sometimes want to be out across the land. Not just in my country but in overseas beaches where my toes dig in the sand.

With a clique of like minds with whom I can communicate literary. It could also be that one person who is always on my mind, literally.

Looking at that that strong willed Aminata. Imbuga must believe me a nutter.

I am the Lion to her Jewel. In her warm embrace, I revel.

She makes me reconsider marrying when I want. Like a ghost my thoughts she haunts.

Tribalism is supposed to be the river between us. But for that grain of wheat I will make no fuss.

For all the petals of blood we have shed. This island of tears we will mend.

As we bring down the devil on the cross. The land with no thunder will no longer be at a loss.

No longer at ease has been a running theme. As we meet in the dark and whisper these subtle morphemes.

We will one day see the Promised Land. But the citizens need to decolonize the mind.

I am the last born despite my girth. What a son though I never taught my mother to give birth.

I like manning up to the people. This despite my resolve has never been simple.

Through my journey as I encounter Africa. As the neo racism makes me sicker.

Showers bless our dry land. I am coming home from looking for the rain god.

It’s a good day, no mourning. And it is well noticeable in the morning.

It is time for the festival to make hay. Time keeps running out each day.

We will tell this one story as one tribe. We will garner this one victory with one vibe.

We will occupy so this our kids’ minds won’t preoccupy. Hoping my cipher will be lost to any spy.

The country will learn to change. And the stiff necked leopard will join us on the stage.

The pie may have been fallen in soil. But soon their plans we will foil.

I stand ready for that moment. And whether they televise it or not, the revolution will be part of the movement.

For it does not matter who I was or who I am but who I will be.

Like a Midas touch, my plans will excel.

As I walk my talk you will learn that I keep my word.

To my mind and my world I will give you access.

And with that you can gain the power to reach a higher point.

With the potter’s words we won’t need a wand.

We will conquer fear and with our courage show our enterprise.

This unexpected journey will have a ring to it.

This will not be poetic, this will not be prose.

And for some time the thorns will outshine the rose.

The book will not be written. The history not recorded.

The wise will understand for the message will be coded.

The blind will hear the message and communicate it to the deaf.

The couriers will be the dumb so the secret will never be known.

We will have not seen, heard or said anything evil.

The war will be fought by the crippled, master minded by the bald heads of cancer patients.

You see the battle will not need brute strength.

The lid on the jar is already open and the concern will be how to get it back on.

The man in the mirror will already be one with his reflection.

The step of the Boy Scouts will sound like the army, but we will not hear it.

The bubble wrap around this new world will sound like gunshots but we will not fear it.

Peace, love and unity will be tissue thin but we will not tear it.

The struggle will be real but we will bear it.

Deep and overstood, Swahili

MAMA ALIMPENDA (2010) …..to be continued

The Divine Bandit

Harusi ilishafanyika

Wageni makwao wakaregea

Mapochopocho yalishatiririka

Na vitu za fahari nyumbani zikabombea

Usiku wa manane ulishafika

Babake na mamaye kitandani wakatokomea

Jumaa tatu mama hangestahimili kutapika

Maisha ya mwanaye tayari yashaanzia

Alikuwa msichana na hakuna makosa yaliyofanyika

Ingawa babake alimkana na kichapo mamake kumwagizia

Kwa yote haya, mama alimpenda

Tumboni mwa mamaye alielea na akatoka kama ameundwa

Miaka kadhaa na yule msichana keshageuka kuwa kidosho

Baba aliyemkana kamuona tayari kugeuka awe fedha

Darasa la nane keshafaulu, zawadi ashalifunga kwa leso

Gwaride la fisi wazee nje ya nyumba tayari kumposa

Kilio cha huyu kipenzi wa macho chawasilisha yake mateso

Kakake washaendelea shule ya upili, maombi yake yapuuzwa

Ila mamaye mtoto, hakuvunjika moyo

Kabembeleza mumewe abadili nia

Kidosho keshapata bahati, kaendelea masomo

Njia nyembamba maishani, mama alimpenda

Kidato cha kwanza, pili, tatu, cha nne kwishamalizia

Chuo kikuu kaingia, kuepuka madhara ya maisha

Wakufunzi wamsumbua, alama wamkazia

Mrembo kajikaza, vikwazo kaziruka

Miaka kadhaa kapita, kazini keshaingia……………………………………………

Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Kenya, Politricks, Swahili

UPAKATAJI WA MANENO

The Divine Bandit

Ninapowasili kivuli changu ni Kiswahili.

Makofi yanayopigwa siyo yanayostahili.

Kuandika sio mashindano kwa hivyo nayastahimili.

Nyota ya majivuno haing’ai kwa changu kiwiliwili.

Nikifika, mbiu yangu yafanya mwaitika.

Binadamu wa kila kabila hata rika.

Nawaangalia kwa macho ya asiyetishika.

Maneno kwa akili naendelea kuyapika.

Kila siku niamkapo nikiwaza.

Fikira zanizunguka hadi ninapojilaza.

Mimi sio msanii kama Gaza.

Ni sauti ya moyo wangu ninayoipaza.

Ninaposhika yangu kalamu.

Sitaraji kuayaandika yaliyo matamu.

Lakini miye hushikwa na hamu.

Ndiposa naandika kama asiye na fahamu.

Ukitaka unaweza nidharau.

Lakini tupo wengi kwa hili dau.

Kwa mfano kabla sijasahau.

Lazima utakumbuka fulani wa ukoo wetu Mau Mau.

Haya maneno yananichesha

Sina habari na sijali kama nje kwanyesha.

Kupingana kwako nami hakutanichosha.

Kwani naamini shairi langu ni mambo tosha.

Kabla sijalitia kikomo.

Wacheni tuwakumbuke waliotuacha kwa kufunga yetu midomo.

Maisha mafupi ya aliyekuwa wangu somo.

Agosti miaka kumi na mitano iliyopita na wengine waliomo.

Kalamu yangu haitaisha wino labda kitabu kijae.

Najua kila mmoja wenu yuajua maana yake.

Nitazikunja zangu vidole na kuwafanya mshangae.

Lakini kwa sasa, wacheni twendelee baadaye.

Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Politricks

I am Hip Hop Tribute – Director’s Cut

The Divine Bandit

This is a great piece that started off in a club in Westlands Kenya and was finally completed while relaxing on some of that OLD MONK® with my boy aka Grandson about 3 months since the first 2 verses.

One for the hip hop lovers, after a long night out clubbing.
It’s the withdrawal talking.
Making me all groggy, self knowing.
Wish I had a large canvas to write about my life.
My everyday struggles in aim of victory.
From mastering THE GAME to be a part of history.
To living BIG like Notorious, no PUN.
Crying WATERFALLS for the young homies who I wish were still around.
HATE IT OR LOVE IT, I spit my game and stay on top of the world.
Humming the Macarena as I write this in my THUG MANSION.
I need some Courvoisier to hypnotize and MAKE IT CLAP my mission.
Hip hop ain’t dead, same dream different generation.
Ish beats different flow you just need to listen more.
Less CHRONIC more documentary, that’s what the DOCTOR is advocating for.
BLUEPRINT to YOUNG MONEY cash money.
Give you power even if you’re a COLLEGE DROPOUT.
Red or BLACK ALBUM a RECOVERY to the good old hip hop.
Just dedicated time to listen to some KWELI.
Lost, needed some ukweli.
Heard him query his distractions.
Use COMMON SENSE to testify to their misconceptions.
Welcome to the secret wars where we don’t dance with the devil but assassinate him; And leave our words IMMORTAL,
TECHNIQUE that I’m learning from the best.
A BANDIT but a DIVINE one at least.

My apologies grandson I arrived late for the GRADUATION.
I know you are a CHAMPION. And I applaud you for going THROUGH THE WIRE.
You got that blueprint for going through life.
Made some changes and hoped for that CALIFORNIA LOVE.
Ran away from the carnivores and joined CANIBUS.
Wrote my MASTER THESIS BEHIND THOSE ENEMY RHYMES.
Watched my daughter bring you forth through that C-SECTION.
ACKNOWLEDGED your birth and named you the MASTER ACE.
Taught you to respect God’s son. And here we are STILL MATIC.
I KNOW I CAN. Never SUPER UGLY just a RENEGADE.
White as a ghost but I have walked these EIGHT MILES.
Did some biology and CLEANED THE SKELETONS out of my closet.
DROPPED IT LIKE IT’S HOT and left their HEADS RINGING.
Changed AREA CODES, I did not ACT A FOOL as I chased my RUNAWAY LOVE.
NEEDED SOME LOVE so I licked my lips, held my head high and asked my enemies to GET BACK.
WATCHED THIS THRONE they talk about and realized He is the only one.
Rode this rough road, found myself at a crossroads and realized that the DARK MAN was the X that marked that spot.
I  made a decision that it was time to grow up.
I had lost my SCAR, now a grown up SIMBA.
I got my advice from my father. So wise but he is no MUFASA.
I regret my dilated pupils, no more drugs as I take care of these DILATED PEOPLE.
Bumping some of this Papoose and Jeannie Ortega music.
Purporting that this genie ought to give me a few wishes..

Thank you grandpa for getting me OUT OF MY BLOCK.
Look at my face, no scar.
Embrace this MOMENT OF CLARITY with flow tight like I’m Erykah.
Mesmerize and leave FLAVOUR IN YOUR EAR.
No DAYDREAMING or find yourself at the rear.
A SUPERSTAR, keeps the SHOW GOING ON and leaves you in tears.
Man of the year just ask the snow goons.
I believe I can fly just like the Looney Toons.
Exist in SPACE JAM where we PARTY AND BULLSHIT.
A young simba doing his thing in anticipation to be the next big hit.
LIGHTS PLEASE, I don’t want anything to pass me by.
Sky’s the limit so don’t ask me how high.
All the LOST ONES GET BACK TO THE TOPIC.
No longer a SIDELINE STORY but the people’s pick
An ALPHABETICAL SLAUGHTER aiming for some gangsta love
Some satisfaction in the morning coz that’s what it is
Get your mind right coz money ain’t a thing; please.
A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT…it’s all about ME AND MY GIRLFRIEND.
She calls me BONEY (haha), a girl’s BEST FRIEND.
PAPI, as she sits and watches me acquire street cred.
BIG POPPA, a nasty girl who gets her freak on to the head.
My a million and one the day we wed.
As for the remaining 99 PROBLEMS I unleashed the GENIE IN A BOTTLE.
Topple this obstacle course and ensure you remember the name.
If there is NO LOVE I DROP THE WORLD coz I’m not tame.
A SECOND ROUND KNOCKOUT coming this way.
Call me heartless but you still gonna pay.
You wouldn’t get far I heard ’em say.
In response….This is my HOMECOMING, this is my day.
Only God can judge me, WHAT MORE CAN I SAY?

This grandson of mine makes me proud.
You see he NEVER LET ME DOWN even when ALL FELL DOWN.
He wasn’t looking to be a CELEBRITY OVERNIGHT.
We wrote this IN DA CLUB.
Same night I visited the CANDY SHOP and was accosted by MANY MEN.
Too bad I am always READY TO DIE so I taught them WHAT BEEF IS.
We SHOT THEM UP, had the scene change to a thug mansion.
Cops rushed in TOO FAST AND FURIOUS.
All they wanted to know WHO SHOT THEM?
I gave a smirk as I realized those NIGGAS BLED JUST LIKE ME.
Incarcerated by these devious corrupt cops.
Had charges of being a PIMP, SEE what I did right there?
Emerged from that NECK OF THE woods.
Now I KNEW HOW TO LOVE.
Boarded that STARSHIP and flew off like a G6.
I was now in the land of the MYSTICAL amidst all this DANGER.
Rose up, I was now most definitely a BLACK STAR.
Met this fine lady and got rid of her BLACK GIRL PAIN.
She was no college dropout and neither was she a FOXY GOLD DIGGER.
I BROUGHT HER OUT and gave her WHATEVER SHE LIKED.
It doesn’t matter WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT US.
One thing for sure is we will never be dead and gone.

Game recognize game, so what you waiting for; Applause

Either that or you get no love.
Peace out.

Hip hop forever

Deep and overstood, Politricks

Encountering Africa

The Divine Bandit

Encountering Africa.

Deep and overstood

LET’S NOT

The Divine Bandit

Let’s walk when the sun is still out.
Let’s jog when our shoes still fit. Let’s sleep when it’s still cold.
Let’s dream while we are still asleep.
But let’s not fight when our hands still touch.
Let’s not part before our lips do.
Let’s not throw away what we still need.
Let’s not hate while we are still in love.
Don’t let me go while I still love you.

Love, Sanaa

UNREQUITED LOVE

The Divine Bandit

Here goes my hundred.
As this closed door I dread.
On this ashen earth I tread.
Y’all know she refused to bend.
Lean on the corner post of my bed.
I’m no longer the winner of the bread.
She saw IT and she fled.
I fell down and I bled.
Didn’t know what went through her head.
Yes, she was against head.
Pardon me for all I have said.
It’s just that I’m seeing red.
Our hearts were never wed.
Our souls were never fed.
Our vows were never made.
And now we lie here hash tag DEAD.

Deep and overstood, Jesus Christ

LIFE NOTE

The Divine Bandit

The sands fall through this hour glass.
The delicate element shatters as a pebble tries to squeeze through.
He holds in his hand, the heart of a lass.
As his other hands stirs, the potent brew.
The sound of a rattle snake in Africa.
Is just another cue to get down.
At the end of my life, they call me Sir.
I got knighted when the queen was last in town.
Haphazard thoughts, boulders are tumbling over each other.
Memory loss, like my past never existed.
Like a rolling stone, no moss do I gather.
My flashback is gone, it does not matter how much I resisted.
Caffeine, acting like a drug, wannabe cocaine.
Hands shake, like a fever, the anger rises.
Pain in my chest, give me that Novocain.
Handshakes, like a victor, values become vices.
Evil follows shame on you Hansel and Gretel.
Cinderella is the slipping beauty, how stupid to wear a glass slipper?
The big bad wolf is out, Red Riding Hood, you better settle.
My shadow remains nameless, but still steps with me.
Darker than I ever thought it was, both the pot and kettle call it black.
My heart’s wings have been clipped, stumps are all that be.
This hellhound’s bite is much worse than its bark.
21st century, so I put my stylus to the monitor.
I bleed my soul on these words, they come alive.
I am the only one left at the tower, cleaning up like the janitor.
As the sirens get louder, the heist is done; I jump out and hope to survive.

I open my eyes and the lights sting them.
But I cannot close them; I don’t want to slip away.
This life is more precious than any other gem.
Hence I choose it, anytime or day.
I swing till the last hole.
My locks all over my face, I need not shield it.
I bowl till the last ball.
My locks open, inside the candle has been lit.
So here I sit and continue to ferment.
With age, like wine, I become more valuable.
The search to find the lost me, it’s so fervent.
I can’t help but laugh at their hope, so gullible.
Life gave others lemons, I got the lime.
So here I stand awaiting my last wage.
Like Musiq, I am a victim of my time.
Like music, I am a product of my age.
I need a doctor, Still Dre.
I have on this white color straitjacket, Eminem.
I need some water, still dry.
My coat of many colors, M&Ms
So up this ladder I go.
It better be endless and my strength limitless.
Or I will prove the wise men right and end up down below.
Gold, frankincense and myrrh, they bore their gifts.
They followed the Northern star to the manger.
Blood, sweat and tears and still my poetry lifts.
The same star they followed keeps me away from danger.