My Dance

He asked for some sun today-

Just as I almost had my ray.

Well, my moon must wait a while,

A while now, a while long as the Nile.

But only a while as said-

For this is no raid

Just a statement on right

And consideration of a plight.

In time it is law

As his is refined and mine raw.

So goes the play,

The leading act holds all at bay.

And what a performance,

All marvel at his brusk portance,

He then comes to my nest,

And asks, “Dear what’s next?”

No dance is as familiar as this,

Well practiced, no step amiss.

The beats of culture within booms

As my mind’s hips tweaks and turns.

Hear the strings of religion sooth

In trace, I swing to gospel truth.

And the lore chants hum…

I am frenzied lost in cautionary gum…

… then that it hits me!

An expression in a dazing spree…

Intoxicating in every definition

Vocals! Education into submission.

Unconscious and yearning I swear

To every word I hear.

No dance is as familiar as this,

Well practiced, no step amiss.

Sought and taught and learnt

Thus I wear the accepted hat.

But alas the world is no vacuum

Its dance erodes the caution tomb…

As beats of reason mesmerize-

And strings of emotions ionize.

With every breathing in

Experience charges the unseen.

I swirl and spring and swing…

Then I heard it! Ear splitting

A voice in its infinite strength-

Told time’s depth.

I am drowned and whirled

As life dances with the world.

What to make of it?

This is no skit!

He asks for some sun today

Just as I almost have my ray.

And off the dances go!

Banging in a chaotic show!

For culture with no reason

Is gravely worn…

And emotion gives worth

To religious truth.

In right I jig and swing

To my own musical fling.

Aren’t Lores created-

From experience survived.

Doesn’t time educate me-

And I delightfully pree?

Thus in my dance we all shine.

All in balance with no repine.

Kenzia  

Monday, March 12,2019

A Letter From She Who Settled

My heart burns

I really hate myself... The life i am living isn’t mine, i feel like i took a step aside and let everything i like pass me by. I need quality time with the people i love but what i love they don’t care for... Every time i plan something, everything that's more important seem to come up and mine isn't given a 2nd thought. I feel caged. So intensely caged i am loosing my heart, my soul. I cry now more than before, because i settle.

When i love i give all and i wish one would just give me a treat once in a while to make me feel special. I wish we could do something from my list of fun things once in a while. But when i speak its directly archived. It will be done later, i come later. It's been 9 months since we did something i liked which was walking to Njoro and back. I keep saying what i like but it is for later. I need romance. I need to have happy waves in my relationship. Like get a gift very now and then, get taken somewhere every now and then, romantic acts in the house... And maybe once in a while do something from the long list of stuff that i said i would like to do over and over. I voice out everything i need but it’s almost never heard. I have to almost breakdown to be taken seriously. 

Why should one wait for me to hurt and suffer to do something? Maybe, i do come after everything else. Maybe i am not allowed to have emotions that's why everybody gets angry at me when i feel low or need them. And so i hide all that hurts me and become so depressed... And then it’s my fault that i am low and messing up everybody’s' mood. So i keep quiet even when i need help the most, even when i hurt so badly, even when i with my closest. Because i know he has something more important to do than talk to me or please me in other ways than physical or just make me feel like a queen. I am not feeling that right now.

I feel like a help, like a house help or something. Like i do, i help, i solve, i fight, i lift, i scrub, i answer... But i shouldn't expect the same. Maybe i shouldn't get to the level that i give. I wish i was a queen to one. And if i am already, i wish that one would just show it, act like it and not expect me to just know automatically because i don't know it and i don't feel it at all. I wish for mine to know me, and act as if they know me. I don't need to be treated like a stranger till i breakdown and then be all there when i am crushed on the floor. Picking me up because they know how to. Why not save me before i hurt? If one knows me, they actually know me, i don’t see why they can't avoid  stuff that cause me pain if they truly love me. Whole dance of pushing me down then picking me up will someday not work. One can be unable to pick me from the depth that i will have sunk, or maybe i will have had enough. I wish i was a queen and not a dusty pillar at the entrance of a handsome mansion. I wish i didn't come last almost always. Once in a while, let me come 1st, maybe on that romantic day or that dark night of the heart. Just to keep my 'happy heart' beating. I honestly have the least known amount of fuel for happiness. If one knows me well, one will know i struggle hourly to actually feel happy and make it last.

I wish one wouldn't think i am on a 'high hoarse' because the truth is that i am dying inside. I am still messed up and broken and completely damaged inside. I try to heal but i am way better at hiding it professionally and the one to help me stopped. Got other things that are more important and thinks i am a proud bitch looking down at everyone on my high horse. How am i supposed to be open if when i express how i feel this is the feedback. While i, myself i am so depressed and i have to wake up every morning telling myself that i will be okay, cooing and soothing myself the whole day through, just to feel like i should fall into the darkness and just fade away at night. How could i look down on others when i am sunk deep beneath the ground? But yet one, never notices. Why? I had once taken a significant healing step off my past and could talk and somewhat express how i felt verbally and timely, yet, now i have reverted to my younger self from my past where i can’t say how i feel. My closest shut me down when i try, or, just doesn't listen, or, hears me just so that i can shut up, or, listens to me and forgets as soon as anything, literally anything else comes to mind. One lives on as if i never said a word to begin with. At the same time it’s as if my non-verbal clues all go dead. Is it that one doesn't know me? Can't read me? Doesn’t care about what he sees? I just feel like 'that other person' whose life and feelings aren't that important. That have never been important.

******

The Redemption

I am clean’, I tell her

Lain on the wet grass

‘I am ready messiah.’

Even then her eyes burn with love-

As she washes me with kerosene.

Her touch so tender and caring-

At the sight of my bare body.

She kisses my forehead lightly

As I quiver and whisper,

‘Let me meet my God’

                Fire flickers  as freight flys

                So Preaches the pest plight

Life the price for salvation

Comforted within by the thought of THE saviour

Ah… preferred by Her among the heretics

Among them I stand chosen!

Carrying offerings to the lord above,

Holiness showered over me

Take me messiah, by fire and ice

Take me messiah by blade or venom.

Fire flickers as freight flys

                So preaches the pest plight

Standing… the anointed, Goal… divinity.

One last kiss form the Christ

Before facing the gate way of flames

To my destiny, God beyond

I trust and believe.

Thus the fire flickers, I am brave

The plight pests no more.

The flames wash me eternaly

As I walk in to Gods arms.

I can tell you

I can tell you this, I can tell you that,

I can tell you all that I know but to what end?

I can tell you all, you may hear me

You may not listen to the hymns played by the voiceless.

I would lecture you on the struggles that the children live through

But its subject to your will to lend me your ears if you may.

But years come and go, just as fast as seconds tick-tock

As one talks of testimonies never heard before

So we speak of torments never heard before.

We preach of the street kid turned pastor.

Preaching the truth in the street,

trying to treat the unsaid.

Vacalization battles with academia

That’s how simple voices become stale

Speak for the young as a literal taboo.

So we dance to our ancestors rhymes.

And move to our ancestors beats.

Beats beginning at the birth of our path-

Beats dying at the end of our path.

What more can I say?

Shall we all shut our ears?

Keeping secrets for all these years.

As part of us  drains…

My love holds me close, I can feel them close.

My heart calms me, I feel them in me.

Hope

I knew the night would come.

With its gentle breeze blowing slow and cool into my wounds formed during the vicious battle i championed. Strong of the strongest my war cry roared loud and powerful as the spear rays from the sun siperced into my flesh. The slashess it caused decorated the little child in me, with red slashes that promised a subjective stand in the world of solitude and trauma in the future...
But the night came.

With its gentle breeze blowing slow and cool.

The Birth Of A God

Father

I wake today to a letter on my bedside table,

Addressed to me by my daughter’s hand...

What a gamble, this fool!

For the soul that wrote it was not merely humble

But swung its pen in a rageful antistyle

That is sure to catch my fleeting attention.

Rubbing my morning eyes ready for the compuction

That most oftenly follows a dark midnight composition.

Ah!  And it greets me with such obvious assentation…

‘To my cherished and deared father’ I chock at its hilarity

As it should have ended at this dexterous vulgarity

Aimed at shrinking my judgment with emotional mediocrity

I regret every second of its secular viviparity…!

Daughter

“I know you won’t shed a tear

For the man I once treasured and revered

Has over the years crooked into a heartless brute.

But I must say what I must.

And you must hear what you must.

My doing forced by the tyrant in nothingness

 Beyond the sky holding my earth up with one hand

And dishing blows with the other.

 That vile creature that just for a tickle

Presses its gigantic finger onto the little insects

Walking in the world too small to accommodate

 Spineless creatures carrying snow blubs…

With a swaying child seen moving through the cracked glass,

Moving to hymns of quests and suspicions

Over a realm they are given flawed metaphors of

Descriptions they don’t comprehend but accept all the same

As they are set blind folded down a rocky hill

Decorated with crawlers and slithers and walkers

Promising a poised bite.

 Breathe in infected air from the vermin’s’ lungs

When it’s over you are sure to be spotted

One little mark seen only by the host of the games…

But you must not get infected.

Hymns of praises to a domain you don’t understand

Hymns of confession for sins you don’t carry.

I write to the tyrant floating in ignorance.

My breathing in my world-

Likened to inhaling in a sulphurous pit.

My conception a misdeed,

My birth termed a mishap

My existence dismaying,

My thoughts depressive,

My very being a transgression by itself!

Yet my very patronal kin flourishes in the wonders

Of a purposeful being, the glorious calling

One deserving of praise and awe…

Undertakers whose sole vocation in rid-ing this…

Everywhere and anywhere of the unrighteous deemed

Wherever and however they see right.

And the earth’s core has no rage as the magma within me.

Swift Fluid forceful flames that turns and cracks

With my every inhale and exhale

Way harder than your whip cracked on my back

As you corrected my veracious thought

For the blameless should follow and not question.

Way harder than your whip cracked on my back,

When I was bent over crying mercy

For a child’s mere curiosity of the color

Out of the existing fallacious white!

And your whip will cuff you.

Bind your hands in the memories of your righties.

Memories of putting a rope to his neck

And lighting a fire beneath his midair kicking feet.

And beside his dangling licking coal… My love

My precious, the soul of my soul, my beloved…

My lovely lady Lucky snatched from my side

Kicking and screaming, lifted by the disciples

Of him that I begged and beseeched with for her life,

Offered my breath for hers

And you offered a consideration…

No hanging for the fair one,

What a beckon on kindness you were…

And then…

She was silent,

When diesel was your fuel of choice

She was silent,

When asked to speak her last words

She was silent,

When you hauled her hair and derided

She was silent,

When our eyes locked for years and years

She trembled as I collapsed onto the desecrated earth

And she did not shed a single tear when you lit her up.

 Her haunting eerie moans always in my head

Over and over and thus existence has no force

As the one she builds in me that night and every night.

As the tear of every sacrificed soul slaughtered

Every life lost by the guiltless who now stand at plinths.

Alters before them blood purified and ----------scented

Their executioners lie in glimmering oil in their mercy,

A sacrifice of the slayers to the slayed by the slayed.

And you lie on many tables.

By your reading this

You would be lying on mine too.

For they are throng in me

Through me the legion will rise

Through me they will have power

Through me they will have their revenge.

Through me we will stop your kind.

Tonight I leave my state to join mine

And we shall be a union of gods

And we shall rain terror to all your kind,

The living and the dead alike.”

Father

What have I done?