YOU’RE JUST A PAIN

Picture Courtesy www.1to10reviews.wordpress.com


Uninvited
Yet unperturbed,
You just walk in
With an air of importance,
Rude,
That’s what you are.


You take centre stage,
Never earning it,
Pushing my buttons
Like a five year old,
Full of demands,
Always having your way,
You’re an unmitigated pain.


You leave me squinting
As though I were staring at the
Insides of the sun at 12pm,
Bringing traffic to a standstill
As though life revolves around you.


You’re beyond reason,
A menace coupled with
An abundance of bad timing,
No different from a junkie,
Always looking to get a fix.


Excuse me,
Don’t mean to be a bother,
Can I please get an aspirin?
This headache’s killing me.

LIFE THROUGH THE EYES OF A SHOE

Picture Courtesy www.ysl.com


If life were a shoe,
I’d try it on several times
Till I found a perfect fit.


If life were a shoe,
I’d never nurse a broken heart
I would just change shoes.


If life were a shoe,
I’d never make mistakes,
Redoes would be a stuff of nightmares
Not dreams.


If life were a shoe
I’d ace all my tests
Have enough degrees and accolades
To blot out the sun.


If life were a shoe,
I’d lace it in different patterns
Every time
Doing as I wish without the
Least bit of consequence.


If only life were a shoe,
But it is no shoe,
It’s a mass of quick drying cement
That gives you just enough time
To bend it to your will.

BRIDGES SOMETIMES HURT YOU

Picture Courtesy: www.htmlhelp.com


Imagine descending into the depths a valley,
Just to get to the other side,
Swinging on the vines of a tree,
Just so you can get to the other side.


You probably might trip on some rocks
Down in that valley,
Maybe sprain an ankle,
Then again you just might bump into a tree,
Swinging rather carelessly on those vines,
But there are stories in doing those.


They sit there and wait,
Laughing at you as you walk across bridges in life,
There are no stories walking across a bridge,
Everyone can walk across a bridge,
So sometimes,
Whenever you can,
Please avoid the bridges,
Pretend there’s none there,
Try finding your way,
Goldmines are discovered this way,
There’s more to life
Than looking for the easy way out,
Not always but sometimes
Bridges end up doing us more harm than good.

GROWING PAINS

Picture Courtesy www.vivioworld.com


Crawling,
That was my beginning,
Now I walk,
I even run,
Oh time,
Absolutely magic.


Incoherent,
That was me,
Gibberish,
Universal language of toddlers,
Now I speak,
And it makes sense,
Oh time,
You are full of tricks.


I sleep
I wake
The days ferment
My hairline slowly fades,
Strands of black hair
Reduce to ashen grey,
Oh time
You bloody thief.


A bottle of black dye
Paint brush in hand,
Colouring grey hairs
Black as soot,
My joints ache
And I walk with a stick,
If only I could colour those too,
Oh time
You despicable time.

THE CITY

Picture Courtesy www.istockphoto.com


A mass of concrete and steel
A sea of tap, bottled and sachet water
Wires straddling the air
Juiced with electricity
Asphalt blanketing the face of the earth
Conducting a symphony
Tooting horns
Exhaust fumes
Burning rubber and
Traffic jams in attendance.


Communities
So far from close-knit,
Neighbourhoods
With nothing neighbourly
Just people exchanging
Good mornings
Hellos and his,
Avoiding prying eyes.


Lost strangers
Marching through foreign land
Hiding behind walls
And tall gates
Others calling kiosks
Street corners and
Open spaces home,
With bruising fragrances
From choked drains and
Decomposing garbage
Wafting through turned up noses
Taking offence,
That is the city.

SHADOWS AND MOONLIGHT

Picture Courtesy www.stumbleupon.com


She came like a rifle,
Sleek and slender,
Pinpoint
Pristine
Carried easy like moonlight.


Pace of a bullet,
Clap the sound,
Settling smoke
My temple sore
From recoil,
Gone,
Like shadows in darkness,
Never saw her again.

WE ALL RUN OUT OF TIME

Picture Courtesy www.geekologie.com


There we sat,
Myself and time
Behind balls of kenkey
Fried fish and hot pepper.


Dripping noses
Burning faces
Tongues protesting,
We ate as though
The meal our last.


Halfway through,
I lifted up my head,
Only to find time
Fast asleep.


Hours
Minutes
Seconds
Intoxicated by fermented corn,
Dead still,
Had become time.


I rose to go tell the world,
Finally!!!!
We have all the time,
Do not make hay,
The sun does shine forever,
Fret not,
Time and tide does wait upon man.


I never made it,
Fell face down
After five steps,
Then it dawned on me,
Fermented corn does intoxicate time,
It does man too,
None really can bewitch time,
In the end,
We all run out of time.

THESE HANDS

Picture Courtesy www.clipartof.com


These hands,
Nothing special about them,
Everyone’s got them.


They’re all the same really,
Some longer than others,
Some hairier than others,
But they all end in ten fingers.


These hands,
Pretty ordinary,
Till we begin to use them
In ways extraordinary.


Hands in tune with life,
Those make a remarkable surgeon,
Hands with a deep understanding of
Butter sugar and optimum temperature,
Those make a seasoned baker.


These hands can mend and create,
What these hands create
Belong to us,
We are our hands,
We are what we make of them,
These hands.

THE JOY IN POTHOLES

Picture Courtesy www.localnewsqueen.com


I hate potholes,
They slow down progress,
And turn simple journeys into nightmares,
Especially when you have no shock-absorbers,
Trust me,
I’ve been there before.

But in the leaps and plunges,
As we run along those annoying potholes,
Light bulbs go off in our heads,
We always come up with something,
Not necessarily new,
But in those crazy moments
In between our leaps and plunges,
If we bounce just quietly enough,
Manage enjoy the discomfort potholes bring,
We just might find comfort in them,
In the form of a crazy idea,
A solution to a puzzle,
Or just plain ordinary fun
That leaves us in smiles.

Once in a while,
Choose the potholes,
Do not swerve,
Intentionally fall into them,
Get sore,
Feel uncomfortable,
Bounce around,
Have your thoughts shuffled along the way,
When u finally get past those potholes,
You will find a light bulb in there,
For potholes have light bulbs in them,
Life’s greatest moments are found in potholes.

THE TOAD

Picture Courtesy: www.leapmobilefitness.com


I refuse to walk,
Make no mistake,
I shan’t crawl,
Neither will I run.


Babies crawl,
Athletes run,
Everybody else walks,
That is why I choose to hop.


Call me a toad,
Between crawling
Running or even walking,
I choose to hop,
Quite ridiculous,
Don’t you think?


I do not seek to be different,
There’s nothing wrong in being different anyway,
I only prefer doing things differently,
Venturing into a thicket,
Instead of staying on the foot path,
I emerge hours later,
Covered in cuts bruises and leaves,
But in the midst of it all,
Lie the lessons I have learnt,
Those are lessons you’ll never learn walking a footpath.


If only you knew,
While you aim at the ends of the earth,
Running walking and crawling,
In hopping,
I aim at the heavens,
Crashing down to earth every time,
But I still hop,
Everyday,
Dreaming of heaven even as
I fall back down to earth on each try.


So please,
Let me be,
Let me hop,
I find strength in your laughter,
Watching me hop,
I sure won’t stop,
Heaven sure does await,
Hop
Hop
Heaven’s my final stop.

IT HAPPENED A LONGTIME AGO

Picture Courtesy: www.ibiblio.org


Fish
Bread
And drink
A common feature,
Wherever he went.


Spoken word
In the form of
Parables
He gave out freely
Without even a charge.


What a guy,
How could you not
Have a soft spot for him?
Never proud,
Not one to boast,
Just a regular guy.


Turning water into wine,
Few loaves into basket loads,
He walked on water,
To the amazement of all.


Guess what?
At some point,
They hatched a plan,
Strung him up
Nailed him to a cross,
Between the choice of two,
To Pilate,
They shouted out loud,
Give us Barabbas instead.


Beware,
Please beware,
Their smiles and embraces
Are empty inside,
Hollow souls in perfect disguise,
So cunning
They just might be your demise,
Beware the humans,
Please beware.

THE BURNING LOG

Picture Courtesy: www.flickriver.com


Posters,
Supposedly posted by foot-soldiers,
Tea drinking thugs,
Sipping on entrails in free mugs.


The log slowly burns in the wind,
Leaving behind lives reduced to ash,
Lips,
Singed by hunger pangs,
Tongues,
Haunted by foul tasting ash,
Ears deaf drunk,
On empty promises
Riddled with senseless propaganda.


Two years
Pass by in tears,
Grief stricken years,
Two more to come,
At the edge of our seats
We sit in fear,
Trying times,
Difficult years,
Clock ticks and chimes,
Years in tears,
Cold and unforgiving years,
How does one find good in bleeding years?
How do you stay alive bleeding for four long years?

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Picture Courtesy: www.redbulls.theoffside.com


Let yourself go,
Let your heart flutter,
Emotional mathematics,
Pitter patter,
You a chemistry of emotions,
Sometimes it may cause you stutter,
Leaves you speechless,
Even a word you fail utter,
Out in the sun,
Yet you can’t help but shudder,
Body mind and soul
A total surrender,
Thinking about it
Makes your thoughts quiver
Reduces your breath
To nothing more than a whimper,
Leaves you so confused,
You begin whisper,
You’re in overdrive,
Beads of sweat on your forehead begin gather,
You try make sense of it all,
But sense becomes a misnomer,
There you stand naked,
Like a four leaf clover,
Stop looking for meaning
Go at it like a grasshopper,
It sure is unpredictable
Oft best to be yourself my brother,
Embrace it,
Just love one another,
In the end you realise,
1+1=2 is jibber jabber,
Final answer’s,
Way more than two my brother,
Mathematics?
This bit of mathematics maths has failed decipher,
Just be true to who you are,
You’ll find love wherever you are,
Don’t get me wrong,
Never easy as it sounds,
Then again,
Who told you life was easy?