October

Damn that stupid prostrate!


I was right in the middle of a cold war with you,
Right in the middle of another thunderous argument,
Right in the middle of a fiery kiss,
Adrenalin highs and Stimulation
Right in the heat and passion of things
When you yelled out in Pain.

Then there we were
Holding hands in the doctor's office,
Guilt and remorse overtaking the present state of affairs,
Torrential Cascades of prayer
That our fears wouldn't come to being
Making fervent promises
Not to waste another minute
Before we're served with notice.


Perhaps it would be better if the tables were turned.
For I am bolder, stronger.
I've overcome twenty hours of labor, A broken heart, scandals and even failure
while you've always had it together.
I guess, if  I could go through this on your behalf, I'd be a hero for you.


It's hard seeing you like this.
Helpless and angry
Detached from reality and my affection
Challenging the source of your manhood and possibly, your identity,
Chemo and chemicals have taken over where your charm and wit used to be.

Healing is not a process rushed love,
Not a quick fix like a bullet.

I can't put you out of your misery.


Damn you stupid prostrate!!!
Now we'll never know if we stayed together for the sake of a callous disease
Or if we're really meant to be.

Two devotees side by side like twin wheels.

Mara's Story

Mara , Mara lini tasema ukweli wako.
Mara, Mara lini tadai haki yako.
Maisha hayo njia panda,
Maisha hayo, hunijali mimi.

TODAY.

Life feels like an endless script without a matching soundtrack.

Dear John stone.
by Valentine Kamau on Sunday, August 22, 2010 at 5:24pm


It's been 32 years. I did not have the pleasure of meeting you, seeing as you lived and died before my time. Had we met, you probably wouldn't have liked what I have to say much. Third generation after your leadership, am of the opinion that you didn't do such a stellar job but admittedly, even at your worst, you were better than most. After all, I’d sooner take off than give up my freedom for the sake of a nation. I’d run. Fast and hopefully live to write and tell my memoirs in exile.....I love my country but am not a very willing martyr-that's where you and your comrades get the props. It’s truly heroic.

My generation is too spineless for such a great, sacrificial order. We talk of revolutions in the drinking holes after dark and then gag our throats in silence after dawn. On that account, am grateful for yours and for your compatriot’s great show of bravery.
Still, I will not hold back my disappointment at your lack of tolerance and zeal for the TRUTH. (I’d be in some dark nyati dungeon 20 years ago for expressing this).
I continue to hold a grudge against you, (32) years after your demise, for you did not trust the truth to bring you to a place of light and freedom, the truth was too bitter a pill for you to swallow. Am idealist, am all for equal rights, wealth etc but the TRUTH is, we are just too capitalistic to be equal. The large tracts of land and wealth which continue to lie in the hands of the mighty, can attest to this fact. THAT IS THE HARD TRUTH!
My heart goes out to all those who dared tell all, their powerful voices forever silenced, never to be heard from again. Your successor learned fast, who would dare defy his endearing sentiments?

You Sir, You! You were too much of a coward to give progress the way. You couldn't stop the destiny of a people, but you did indeed, succeed at stifling it.

On this day i choose to scrutinize your lessons instead of judging you. It's really not fair, venting out my frustrations at you this way. The good book says time and chance happen to all men, so you are not to blame for the state of affairs in my life. I rise today to battle my demons: call it taking responsibility for my actions and all that- I’ll spare you the drama. However, should you take the opportunity to watch the apprentices you created in action, do resist from cringing in disgust at their blatantly barbaric politics-they certainly scramble to be associated with your ideals, which are then, ironically re-branded as their own. Such is your fallen legacy.

You are dearly missed.


Your truly,

Kenyan Patriot.
©2010 all rights reserved by the Author.

Ndoto (Dreams)

I remember my African sunsets and dawns,

Clustered into a yellow, distant , fire ball

in the horizon.

I recall when I began to dream,

When it was finally alright to dream.

I was carried away by words on paper

My imagination violently escaped my conditioned frame

and

I was let loose;

Set free to just be.

Were it not for those writings,

These dreams would have withered away

Dormant, half dead, like in a coma.

Half awake and half asleep,

Fighting to become real and sadly loosing

the battle-never to be.

Finally resting in mock peace.

Fortunately this legend was foreseen.

Long before these words,

Was planted, the seed.

As others impatiently stomped the ground

Willing their drooping sprigs to sprout,

I knelt down beside my seedling and spoke life

into its tiny leaves

and sure enough, it did not disappoint.

The birth of the fruit was announced with much praise

and song

To many, it seemed like magic pronounced, but to me,

It was the words of my mouth, His mouth.

The labor had ceased; then pursued the laughter.

Linger on the sweet memories ….

I remember my African sunsets and dawns.

Even though now my eyes start to burn,

and my throat chokes with tears

of that

Soursweet memory,

I still can;

Remember my dreams.

I MET SOMEONE.

I think i just met the love of my life.
Then again, i think i just met a guy, that's all.
.
But this one was special though.
He was a tallish, brownish, cutish gentleman with warm, kind eyes and beautiful rhymes.
His brow was etched by crow's feet,
which only served to enrich.

His features and gait were as gentle as a saint's , yet his manner spoke of a strong, firm sway.

His hair reached down to his feet- and all this i took in a heartbeat.

I think i just met a man.
That's all. and that's where i choose to leave it.
For now at least.....

AMBROSIA

I relish the taste of sweetness.

Strawberry scented

The sweet sensation of something delectable.

An agreeable experience.



Instead i have this acidic aftertaste in my mouth,

Climbing from my veins and in to my throat.

Why did you have to be so jaded?

EBONY

Ebony is about a woman's love-hate relationship with her body, her hair in particular. I'd know. I used to shave my hair every time the things i wanted to go my way didn't work out i.e. until i grew locks. I have my moments when i desperately want to cut them but the urge to fling them around like a mad woman always wins the day. So that's how I've managed to keep them for so long-eight years to be precise. It's been a beautiful journey. I've found ways of releasing my anger and frustrations which doesn't involve shaving my hair or mutilating my body lol. Hope this sheds some light to this piece.

There once was a woman

Her glory was falling

Falling.

The woman and her glory, falling

Fallen.

Her sigh of defeat grew silent ,

but not the spirit of her defiant nature.

She knew it was far from over.

She lies but never dies.

She had a lot of fire in her,

a lot of fight still left within her.

Her glory was falling.

Shimmering, colossal, mass of black

Ebony wool fallen.

How it glimmered in the hot sun

You could tell from a distance.

Beautiful, just like her

RESILIENT

spirit.

The world around her is a sham.

Ugly.

I saw through her secret ritual.

Purging her soul of the ugliness.

Cleansed.

Her black wool, lying in the stillness beside her.

Her heart started to bleed as she quietly gazed at her glory.

Then,

A ray of light fell upon her smoldering, black, olive eyes.

I could see her tears now,

rolling down unto

the ebony wool,

Next to her bare feet.

She lifted her smooth hands and gently stroked her fallen glory.

A tiny smile started to crease her round face.

Sated,

She lay claim to her peace.

This , her sacrifice.

Crashed.
Resolve not to hope for the hopeless
Decide not to love the unlovable.
Receive with part gratitude, part skepticism.
Regret the unsaid and
Relive the past when dreams seemed possible to achieve.....

AWAKEN!
Then live. and let live.

THE MEMOIRS OF A BROKEN HEART.

STORIES OF A NEW BORN.

Is what I've heard loud and clear?
All these stories collecting in my ear
of a new born child
That didn't involve the warmth of my womb.
Just that paltry manhood
You like to justify your existence with.
I am beguiled of strength to
Insult you,
Tempted to scratch your flashy car,
Tear at those inflated tires and finally,
Attempt to
Inflict you with
Bodily harm
Only reserved for adulterous scoundrels
such as yourself.


Revenge should amount to anguish
Relatively proportionate
To all the pain and misery you've put me through.
The desire to unleash
The rage enclosed in my rib cage ,
At how much time
It took to uncover this ruse
Suddenly,
Overwhelms my senses.


Is this where you live my dear-
A majestic abode which remains ,
Unfurnished by
My time tested, womanly embrace?
No time to usher me in.


My fiery-
Thigh rubbing
Tongue twirling,
Body meshing -Love,
You decline.

Turn and look around you!
Yeah it's me,
Whose heart once bled for you.
Whose peace washed away for yours.
Whose love you merrily pissed on!
Today ,
YOU delicately whisper into my ear
Of how many nights you've spent in distress,
Soiled by regret recalling:
How,
Once-upon-a-time,
This lovely flower
This superstar fantasy
with her timeless allure,
Would have sacrificed her all ,
for you
But you long missed the boat.


Finally I pause and ponder- Sella!
I suppose my future self
is relieved from fatigue;
All that yelling through the time machine ,
"It's HIS loss not yours" she proclaims.
True,
What, I wonder, did I ever see in you to begin with?


THE END.

You know what?(of course you don't:)am not having the best of days.Am not in a particularly ecstatic place in my life right now,granted that am grateful for the breath of day and that my lovely daughter is healthy and strong;i feel a little displaced.

Not sad or angry...indifferent maybe but am not ashamed to say(as i borrow from Miss Bonita Belle) i haven't got it all together.

On the flip side,it's always good to remember those things in your life that are worth fighting for.They give you the fervor and fear you need to fight back stress, disappoint or failure ,especially when you feel you're just too good to be experiencing bad shit.but today,it's okay if you don't have the answers;am definitely lacking in that area.Am smiling through it all and looking like a million bucks.

Don't say it's over yet!!

The day is BIG
full of promise and undeniably beautiful.
I will judge myself less and enjoy my shortcomings,
as i await to be molded by the Great I AM.

Nenda by Valentine Kamau

True Story: CASE OF THE EX WHO JUST WON'T REST

I think this past week has been one of my most challenging yet.I had to face major and i mean major demons.Yes I've made poor choices in the past knowing full well that I'd have to face the consequences sooner than later but i guess when the reality sets in,the weight of it all becomes much harder to carry. Worse still,someone whom i imagined to be a shoulder to nuzzle on, judged me for being me!hmm...now you may wonder how come I've been friends with this person for as long(actually close to seven years..)to which i can only say,bad habits are hard to kick!!
You should be around those who make you feel strong when you're at your lowest and not characters who kick you in the shin when you're already licking you're wounds on the floor.i must admit though the truth hurts!!!
My supposed ex called the other day but i didn't pick up.Not because i ignored his call;(my phone was actually in another area and i didn't hear it ring),it's just that i didn't get the opportunity to debate on the wisdom of opening the communication lines once more.I wasn't sad.I actually felt a little victorious;i had a huge smirk on my face.Then,after a few minutes,i started to wonder if he indeed misses me, or if he's still in love with me!! Silly,huh?
I suppose it must mean am still in love with him and am hoping he feels the same.How will i know without picking up his phone calls?Am afraid that when i hear the sound of his voice, I'll forget how much he pisses me off by being so passive when I've foolishly declared my undying devotion to him in this past year,am afraid of going back to the same roller coaster of emotions and drama.
So no. I refuse to go back to feeling worthless,waiting around for his affection to gain my validation as a person,as a woman and as a mother of his child.Nope.He's going to have to work harder to get me back.
But then again,it was just a phone call....