You want to be a quote that I forget.
A fun word that discombobulates me.
But I want to put your name in quotes and become your apostrophe.
I wanna dot on your eyes.
Never be cross with your teases.
Be part of your third generation grammar.
Paint with words what you cannot see.
I want to stand on a platform.
So I can heighten my standing with you.
I want to be able to breathe out whenever I breathe you in.
Knowing that I will get a million chances to do it again.
The prose in your walk is not lost when I pronounce your name.
But the poetry in your smile has killed this rhyme wizard.
Senses have been reduced to constant invalid dreams.
Awake, I find the reality, just a tad bit unfair.
But it is in your shy eyes that I get lost in again.
Real is the feeling as I wander aimlessly in your mind trying to find a path to your heart.
Adapting to being just near you.
We elicit notes delivering operatic despondency.
My dear little but dangerous dragon.
I am not in envy of your power.
I would just want to be allowed to love you.
Power was given only to those prepared to lower themselves to pick it up.
And my back is arthritic.
In your big eyes I see a reflection of my pain in your emotions.
What are you hiding?
Why does it seem like you carry the colds of the long winter in your heart?
Has summer not thawed you even a little bit?
Born in blood but living as an icebox.
You have decided to feed the wrong jaw.
Your work out just makes you lopsided.
Your leaning is not cool but just a show of an illegitimate scale.
Why don’t you fly?
Why have you grounded yourself?
Surely the sky offers more than the greener grass that you now lie on.
My dear Ragnar, what happens when my toothless smile can no longer hide the tears for my lost tail wing?
I did not choose not to fly but my heavy heart can no longer soar.
I am clumsy at love because someone did not put back the broken pieces of my last flight properly.
I am not feeding the wrong jaw.
I’m just being fed the wrong hearts.
Black and sooty blood is not like the red I was born in.
Creeping around me and trying to make me one of their cousins.
The sky is indeed the best place to be.
But the fall is as hard as jumping from this heart’s ego to the mind’s IQ.
I am not despondent.
I just have no up to give and so I choose to down the next lay.
I hear the Earl has gathered his cohorts for one last hunt for me.
Why are they trying so hard when I’m already lying in wait?
Could you go get them for me?
I long for that last stab so they can be as surprised as I am when they can’t penetrate my rock of a heart.
I’m blind to your suicide letters.
I see in you via a spiritual channel.
Where there be no licking of hands to soften the reality that I need to tell you.
Count yourself lucky that these shoulders still have the strength for two.
I will never let them find you.
In the eternity I shall create.
You shall take off from the fear of lacking flight.
But when the air catches your new wings.
I will make sure that the wind blows just right so you never have to fall again.
When I push you over the precipice in your final everlasting flight.
Consider that your last fall because I shall join you soon after.
Your real pain has not been the fear of flying but the fear of flying alone.
I cut off my wings once but now watch them regrow.
They only do when I am helping those deemed as worthy as you are.
I don’t need to hammer these truths into you.
Though I have to say an iron will is needed.
This hulking mountain we still have to climb.
I will be the captain of this merry car now.
I am lost in your energy and the power you possess to see past my black window.
I eye the hawks as they screech in disbelief at how far I’ve fallen.
I did believe that on this occasion the silver band on my finger was slit.
I have been drinking from too many broken goblets.
And I become pale considering adding a new spring to my past smashing look.
This hope you carry will one day be the end of you.
Why try to put off the inevitable?
The gods no longer listen to you but you still believe in yourself.
You say that your existence and those you can see is what drives you.
What will you do then Ragnar?
When I jump from this cliff and my makeshift wings do not catch the wind?
Who will be there for you Ragnar?
Here, hop on my back.
Let us find out together.
Can you hear the gnawing in the dark?
You’re no longer all knowing in the murk.
Screeching of raised souls.
Sounds like music for your sorrows.
Do you welcome the grim grief of past memories?
Dance with your demons and so nostalgic are the stories?
You’re stepping down this flight of stairs.
Where you once buried all your cares.
Heavy are your footsteps.
You can almost hear the helplessness but nothing helps.
See you standing at the altars of slain hearts.
Screaming pardon my French but you know it hurts.
Torn between your values and vices.
Peeling off each of your disguises.
Your thoughts sting like your tears used to.
But now dehydrated, your eyes can’t see what your pains do.
You’ve become the embodiment of lethargy.
Tired of living through this fantasy.
They call it life but you just find strife.
Your back welcomes the stabbing knife.
Cyanide pills for your bad breath.
Dark roses for your wreath.
This is where they lay you.
You forgot to write an epitaph of what they knew.
Composing dirges as you lay your heart to rest.
You’re Van Gogh.
Listening but painting what you can no longer hear.
You’re V, playing orchestra to each grenade you add to your being.
You’re Edgar Allan Poe.
Lost in goodbye letters of the life you lived in your mind.
You’re Kurt Cobain.
Strumming teen spirit as you hum to “If I Die Young”.
You can feel Nirvana.
You’re looking forward to life on Mars.
Because Venus last choked the life out of you.
You don’t gasp for breath when the past drowns you.
You’re ready to lay to rest.
If you don’t reincarnate.
You will lie there in your new found peace.
You’re Cole, and your death by the mirror is for your eyes only.
You’re Lamar, you realized there’s no justice in the mad city.
You’re Macklemore, and the dream of your ten thousand hours has ended at the feet of the same love.
Lost in your non existent rhymes.
Divine is how you see the Heavenly splendour that welcomes you.
You just hope you won’t be judged a bandit.
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?
Namaste bi…Wait that’s Kevin Mutua’s greeting on the Sanaa Whatsapp group. It’s been a cold 2 months and now we are on the 3rd one. Heed Eddard Starks words : “Winter is coming” and Ebola might be the Whitewalkers. Just thinking out loud.
I found it fun when I found this template. Seems people have direct answers for most of this stuff. But as usual my brain always reads too much into simple words so this is my version.
Making: Love? No? Ok, making time count. I am trying to get loads of things I have procrastinated on before done. Like editing my poetry script and hopefully publish the best 30.
Cooking: Way too many eggs!! I have them in everything. Rice, Toast, Spaghetti etc. But I am craving that protein and energy due to my new workout regime. Twice a day at 7 AM and 10 PM is hard work especially after a long day’s at work.
Drinking: Tusker. But that’s too common. So the new thing I’m drinking is Kate’s Organics Green Tea. I have had it in my work locker for a while now. It’s a great stress reliever, antioxidant and yes, that secret weight loss method I have used before. Dropped 5 kgs in a month. Now dropped 15 to date. Oh but don’t think that is the only thing you gotta do. I don’t take sugar at all and remember working out mentioned above.
Reading: Game of Thrones. Been at it on my phone for 3 months now. Had to find something to do once the series was done for the moment.
Wanting: To find a football pitch with a real organised team close to work. I am tired of my own where the pitch has so much gravel that every time I fall, I’m ruled out for 2 months. How will I ever manage to impress Wenger’s scouts??
Playing: I wanna say her but I am single so mmmhh let’s say Candy Crush but I got stuck at level 86 four months ago and I kind of gave up. I have therefore for the moment joined the bandwagon of hating on those who send requests on Facebook.
Wasting: Sleeping hours. I sleep for about 4 hours daily. Except on weekends when I overdo it. I need to sleep more. But that means I need to slow down my brain without using any drugs. Proving to be quite a feat.
Sewing: My vests?? I think I should just buy new ones or just stop working out. Or both. My biceps are 12 inches now. I think. I know brag brag brag…so my sleeved vests suffer.
Enjoying: Watching arsenal’s pre-season games. Sanogo is coming of age but that kid Bellerin is who I want to see more of. Damn that pace!!
Liking: My renewed OCD to clean up for myself. No more washing ladies and I have managed to do my washing and general cleaning 5 times now.
Loving: The fact that I found these bunch of misfits we met while in high school. All of them. There was Ann, Tracy and Nyambura. And all of us finally, all of us reconnected on Facebook. It has been a long 10 years.
Dreaming: Of Premier League glory. So close and possible I can almost taste it.
Hoping: That she understands my French. My words, my poetry, my only mastered language. 😀 Who is she? I have no idea.
Marveling: At these Dubai water fountains that dance to “I will always love you” in tribute to Whitney Houston. The science and the art that went into this is amazing.
Needing: 3 table spoons of codeine filled cough syrup so I can get some sleep. These coughing is making me lose so much sleep.
Smelling: Absolutely nothing. The almost 3 month cold spell has done well to work against my flu immunity and I get like a bout every 2 weeks. So now my nose is blocked. Food tastes like cardboard. (Don’t ask when I ever tasted it but I did.) But worst of all, I hate the coughing that makes girls shun you just at the moment when you need warmth and hugs. 😦 😛
Wearing: This awesome blazer. Well worth the price. Even the camera guys at the Heineken Desperado Launch could not stop taking photos of it. 😀 Thanks B.A.K.E for the invite again.
Noticing: Despite my initial criticism of Instagram, 2 weeks without an android phone is killing me. I also miss Instant Twitter. Follow me at @TheDivineBandit and http://instagram.com/thedivinebandit I won’t follow back today or this week either but I will when I come back to a 100+ notifications.
Knowing: I’m like 3 years away before the nudges at family events to “get married” become full on body charges followed by a scrum down and a neighbour’s daughter as a try. That sounded mean but I had to clear the sports analogy.
Feeling: Happy despite the blocked nose, inflamed throat and erratic coughing. I am alive and so is all of my nuclear family and my best friends and friends. Most that I know of are in good health. Feeling a bit sad when I think of Robin Williams. A little is an understatement.
Eating: P….Pus…It’s spelled Pistachios damnit!! I like indulging in some exotic nuts..Ok this keeps sounding wrong. So I guess I’m done. 😀