Tag: the divine bandit is human

Crush, Deep and overstood, Life

I am a mESS

The Divine Bandit

I am shamelessly crushing in a manner they call today “no chills”.
I want to use the letters of her name but no that is too main-stream
It is more than the shape of her eyes, the glimmer in her smile.
Nor is it the accentuation of her face by her eyebrows.
Maybe I will talk of such unique thrills.
Light up the literary darkness with her beam.
Then wrap up this daydream and store it in file.
Or maybe I will nurture the dream and watch as reality grows.

This is a new one even for me.
Writers block from having so much to say rather than vice-versa.
When thoughts trip and slide on words.
Then a throbbing sweet headache starts forming at the temples.
Reality just let me be.
Let me forget my past and open this tabula rasa.
So I can compose ballads and hang out with bards.
Then with a shrine of letters and notes I can set an example.

Determined fingers type away.
The brain whips up vocabularies one after another.
My tongue plays with my teeth as it always does.
And still I feel the language does not suffice.
These words I want to say.
The opportunity I don’t want to squander.
A talent that now I feel once was.
Yet I am so willing to pay the price.

In those almond eyes lies a deep mystery.
A mischief so creative it makes the room hot.
And that smile tells a tale.
And its “once upon a time” rests on her eyebrows.
The words from her lips tell a different story.
Of joy, success and what has been naught.
The intrigue of her hips is revealed after several a-cocktail.
As the wind whispers gratitude to the Maker for whom He endows.

Like the Bandit I am, I remain in the shadows.
Yet my divine words I let out into the open.
And I will hope that perchance she might stumble upon them.
So I can leap up and save her from the fall.
With new-found confidence and bravado.
I can serenade her thoughts with rhymes and maybe a pun.
Bad memories we can both condemn.
For then our lives will be entwined with a scrawl.

I am not one to not live out my dreams.
One thing I always know is that I have to try.
I choose to ignore the naysayers and jeers.
As I begin to spin the wheel before I acquire the clay.
I am going ahead, full steam.
I am creating and thinking up scenarios on the fly.
As I slowly erase my doubts and fears.
In my world, where two Es meet, the outcome is always an “aye”.

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, 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.

Life, Love

Remember me….

The Divine Bandit

How will my parents remember me?
This is a question I always ask myself.
Will it be as a happy son or a genius?
Only I can mold myself to someone acceptable.
I have the power to be whoever I want to be.
With no help from the trophies on my shelf.
I can become a clown or something more serious.
The path I choose to take should not be a gamble.
Remember me not as one who was born.
But a son who will never be gone.

How will my friends remember me?
My psyke in books as in sports?
Or one who thought music would live forever.
They sure will have a list to choose from.
I could fit into anyone they will ever see.
For I can do things of all sorts.
Wise, intelligent, learned and clever.
Are all part of my life’s storm.
Remember me not as someone whom you knew.
But as a friend with more than one view.

How will you remember me?
As a guy who made you laugh.
Or one who forgot your birthday?
Both contribute to make this human being.
There are bad memories I would like to flee.
But conquering them made me tough.
Though my body be made of clay.
The material of my soul makes me want to sing.
How I handle myself is not important.
It’s how I handle you that makes the difference.
Mistreating you makes me cruel.
But I can’t hurt myself while you still exist.
You make me try out things that I know I can’t.
When you are around, I seem to lose all sense.
You are the fuel to my heart and body’s duel.
For being a part of you I cannot desist.
Remember me not as a good lover.
But a man who worked magic with his fingers.
Remember me not as a loving father.
But as a dad whose memory lingers.
Remember me not as the love of you life.
But of yourself being my own beloved wife.