Deep and overstood, Dionysus, Haiku

Haiku Beast Day 27


This Betty definitely likes her batter bitter.

She could have served cookies to her guests.

But the ganjabread man stole all her chocolate.

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AH, Deep and overstood, Love

No Doubt


Don’t speak.

I’ll pretend to know what I’m saying.

So that later on I can apologize for having full knowledge of nothing.

All I have known are sad songs despite the bitter pills I’ve swallowed.

I am accustomed to confused tangles like I was cursed in cursive.

I have found the hollow in me and accepted the emptiness it brings.

My time has been a dealer.

I’ve played at the corners where the heartless have been.

Whilst waking up to crusty tears that I nicknamed angel dust.

These sniffles do not end on a high.

The nines I have saved on these stitches just left me on cloud ten.

But no matter how high I have been, I have not felt heaven.

My feet just sizzled with the rage of hot hurt.

And no matter how fast and far I’ve ran.

The stampede is always hot on my heels and ignores the Ferdinand in me.

Maybe I was meant to be a fighter all my life.

A matador at love but that doesn’t matter though.

If I can’t hold up a cape, maybe in these words I can make my escape.

I won’t tell you if it hurts.

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My words transport me to your world.

Therein reality has taken up a position in my dream works.

I may be a vein of kindness inside a body of hearts wrapped in the scars of love.

But it is in your heart that I lay my worries.

It is in the reflection of your eyes that I see the person I could be.

As I grab a fistful of your hair, in it I weave tales of love in the future.

I rely on these specks of hope that fall on my soul as rarely as snowflakes in the African tropics.

There is no end to the beginning of my debut dreams of you; And I.

I can’t tell you I will never leave.

Because that’s a 2 sided coin of which I’m not the only one allowed to spend.

I’d rather say I’ll never do anything to make you leave.

Since you’re my world then we can safely assume that the flat world theorists are wrong.

The above were not meant to be flirt words.

It is also not how I would have approached the Big Bang.

I am riding the Milky Way as I choke out my past dark matter.

It is a fight I have endured and will keep at till your soul accepts me to its society.

I aspire for Tensa Zangetsu when the world wants me to stay in my shikai.

There’s beauty in darkness too; when I can rely on your everlasting light.

Mugetsu!

 

Uncategorized

Quietus


I start from the middle because this is the beginning to the end.

I’m tired.

Tired that you see my face but miss the smile.

See my smile but miss the glint in my eye.

I.. I miss the glint in my eye.

Now to balance this meniscus like I tried to do at the grave.

 

I don’t think the writing is even helping.

Words upon words that are not worthy of licking dust off the feeling.

I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Here lies my truths.

 

 

Give me one last look to see me turn the corner.

Give me one last listen so you don’t miss me here.

Give me one last taste so you can tell I’m no longer bitter.

Give me one last touch before I turn cold.

Give me one last breath to show that my flaws were perfect.

Guest Post

Sun-days and French Toast


Introduction: 

This is my first guest post on this blog. You might be seeing more of this from the lady who wrote this. If you need to follow her other type of work, kindly click here: https://muthonisheartmusic.wordpress.com/

She plays the violin, has worked with the Nairobi Orchestra and teaches/taught music.

That is all. Enjoy.

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***

Sometimes you think you’ll have to leave your house to find inspiration to write. To tap into all that’s swimming in your head and try order it into a recognizable shape. But then other mornings, like this one, inspiration fills your room slowly, like the first rays of the morning sun (which this night owl – miraculously – has witnessed quite a few times in the recent past. This is thanks to a teaching schedule attempting to turn her into a morning person. Oh dear, I shudder at the thought of the “m” word…)

For at least 3 weeks now, I’ve wanted to make French toast for Sunday breakfast. With a dash of vanilla – the latest addition to my mild culinary experiments. But every Sunday morning, at least in the past month, has been a jump-out-of bed and rush-to-the-next-obligation typa morning. OK, sometimes it’s more like life pulling a reluctant me out of the cosy embrace of my bed in a battle that can last anywhere from a few minutes to an hour. So I cannot begin to describe my unadulterated joy at finally being able to have a French toast morning. Ever done a little dance at the first taste of something you’ve wanted to eat for so long? Then time stops for a bit. You almost can’t believe this is happening and every inch of you is jumping for joy. Who knew bread and eggs could bring so much joy? All this with a bright, cheerful sun outside to match, accompanied by beautiful bird songs that I believe everyone should wake up to. Perks of living in Muthiga Green 🙂

I’m a human who gets excited by the smallest of things. The opposite is also true. So if you meet me grinning sheepishly to myself today, it’s probably just French toast vibes bubbling underneath.

***

You know, nothing in my past life quite prepared me for the soul-angst that is adulting. Just yesterday evening, I was asking myself yet again whether I was damned to ‘wander’ forever. I chanced upon a panel discussion on climate change at the National Theatre and found them talking about the role of youth in climate discussions. A young woman talked about her involvement in the campaign to stop the Lamu coal plant – highlighting how, a big part of the opposition to the project was the lack of involvement of the locals. An unfortunately familiar narrative with many of these mega projects. Not to mention the shortsightedness of investing in a coal plant that would irreversibly damage the Lamu ecosystem, while options for clean energy abound in this country! Another participant talked about the complex politics surrounding Gibe Dam, a project that threatens the very survival of the Lake Turkana ecosystem. As I listened to them, the familiar question came floating over my head again – What have I done with my degree in Environmental Conservation? My life, so far, feels like one defined by starting out yet another new path while leaving the previous one not fully resolved. My soul relishes in possibility. Not always the actualization of all these wishes/dreams/desires. And so, inevitably, the anxiety of sticking with something versus starting out another new venture come to colour my existence in a beautifully muddled clash. My life is then spent in the grey, constantly wondering ‘Is this IT? Am I doing enough?’ and at the same time experiencing moments of pure contentment after a beautiful rehearsal/practice session or a memorable lesson with a student or even just a heart-satisfying conversation.

So I relish mornings like these. For their brightness. For their ability to melt all these worries and doubts from my soul. For the abandon with which the universe offers itself to me.

Invites me to drink giddily from its cup of being-here-now.

Listening to the birds outside and following the gentle sway of the trees.

Relishing this moment here and now.

Remembering to breathe.

And to just be.