the Aroma of coffee
the sweetness of tea
books flipping
rains pitter pattering on the roof
a gentle,violent,solemn tattoo beats on the glass window
thoughts running
canvases imagined.
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#PuzzledLines
I sit here with stones in my chest
filling up space where hope used to lie
looking at life and wondering
what is self love
what is selfishness
what is love even
Love?
that thing that i aborted from the chambers of my heart
that feeling that i don’t want to feel again
i get goosed up each time a man makes a pass
or even innocently …(no, nothing is innocent about men)
genuinely…(i don’t think the word works)
but that point when they seem to actually feel
But he did show all that Until my 10th birthday
When he sneaked into my room
wearing his white tunic and his grey beard almost glowing
Now,
I sit here with stones in my chest
filling up space where hope used to lie
continuously trying to convince people am good enough
or am lovable
They say love is effortless
it comes naturally
but how effortless
how do you find beauty in the broken
a kind of broken that only finds love in a wine bottle
and hope in a glass of tequila?
#puzzledlines
the smell of fresh roses on a chilly morning
the aroma of the tea and whistling of the kettle
the savory taste of the pastries and a good read
We Don’t See It That Way — Grace and Truth
Dear Lord, I’ve been reading about Your prophesies through Isaiah concerning the Hebrews. I know You were very upset with them for disobeying Your commandments. I know You only promised them Your protection and prosperity if they obeyed. But they forsook You and went after other gods… You were mad at their folly, and left […]
His scent….
I don’t know where he has been
What he has been doing
better still what he has endured for the day
His face covered in pimple sweat drops
His pleated sleeves neatly folded to his elbows
Smartly ironed trousers
But his scent……
He wore no cologne
Didn’t smell sweet either
He smelled like a tire
Or let’s say, a mixture of tire, sweat and bad deodorant
Gave him a scent similar to that of a he-goat
Do his women find his scent sexy?
Do sportsmen smell like this and still distribute hugs
Is this a scent of hustle
But like I said
I don’t know where he has been or he is going to?
I don’t even know half the things on his mind
Growing up can tire sometimes
Maybe sometimes this scent is allowed
Especially when not sweating on someone before taking a birth
Granny
27th June,
She is here, Grandma.
Today Facebook reminded me, i thought it will just be another memory
but then, Facebook doesn’t know which memories we like to re-read or not
i said i wouldn’t cry but now i feel my nose do that thing it does when i hold tears back hard
She is here!
she has her father’s smile and Bugingo’s eyes. she is Beautiful, grandma.
Just like you always said she would be one day
She is warm like her father and Jolly like her mama (haha)
I know you have seen her
she is petite too and has very beautiful hair
Ooh Lord!! she is Cake. And i love her
Yes i have too much of that to pour out
I have told her alot about you
and yes, she loves her names.
Still waters run deep and sometimes i feel like inside me is an ocean full of unsaid words
Marital Rape
How could it be rape, if both were married?
How could he be jailed, for loving his wife?
It all sounded so unreal, but it still felt true.
He had been raping his wife, for months and years even in her bleeding periods.
He never asked her yes or no.
She had to, is what her parents taught her.
Because no wife should say no to her husband.
Because he says he loves her.
But you could have said to him, when you were on your bleeding periods.
And you could have said no to him when you felt unwell.
And you could have said no to him, because you just didn’t want to.
So many wives have been victims of marital rape since years
So many husbands have turned legal rapists from lovers
So many families have asked women not to speak about this sexual harassment
So many FIRs…
View original post 80 more words
Taxi tales
I see him almost every other time that i take a taxi after work. Clad in his Kaunda shirt, his beard greying and unkempt. His eyes, his eyes….He clenches his green hankie in his right hand and pockets his left firmly into the front pockets of his Kaunda. He usually sits right next to the conductor even if the taxi was empty when he got in.
Thoughts in my head “he is old, he should be home resting while his kids take care of him or probably doing something that wont have him moving“. Once i was lost in thought when i saw another man probably in his late 60s. He looked famished and worn out, he was slouching but he was slashing outside an office. my heart sunk, my mind wondered again.
I saw the old man yesterday morning, around 7am. I am not sure if it was his son or grandson, he was in company of a young boy who looked slightly like him. The young boy who was wearing an old uniform and canvas without socks held his hand and led him to the Taxi and waited till he sat. At his usual sit, wearing his usual clothes. I found out this day that he was blind, i prefer to say visually impaired. At first i always thought he had squints but today i found out he wasn’t. His left hand was also impaired and in his pocket he was tightly holding unto 5000shs that he was using as taxi fare (guessing he holds it so he doesn’t have to be cheated by people he cant trust to tell him what exact note he is holding). I wanted to know his story, i was dying to see who picks him up when he gets to his stop, i wanted to be able to help maybe share my 1000shs with him. But i was at the back, i couldn’t even whisper to him and i got off before he did.
i hope i see him again, i hope i can have a cup of tea with him but i am afraid he might never want to sit down for tea with a stranger.
Nations -9
17/6/2018
Today i felt movements while i sat at my desk. I surely have been worried about this because friends said by now i should be feeling some stretches. Truth is i still dont know if what i felt are movements or gas, i just haven yet learnt how to well distinguish every thing i feel but moving on….am excited. Yesterday i did introduce you to music, dont worry i will make sure everyday u have a musical session however am afraid to say it will only be gospel especially worship. (i know u know why)
Well, i cant wait to learn how to distinguish…Google said, first time it takes a while but dont worry about google…i am attentive.
WRITING
Sipping my tea at a cafe
I saw them,
holding hands and laughing as they sipped on their smoothies
i felt them,
warm and watery. The tears ran on my rounded cheeks onto my cup.
I sniffed.
You were the poison
And yet I kept drinking from your cup.
I could have broken under the weight of my past,
trying to rectify and please
maybe question and sulk.
I don’t even know why i kept coming back but i guess it was revision not to repeat the same mistake twice.
Your mess was a qualification for my love.
I let my love pull down the strongholds of those memories and silence the accusing voices and i loved HIM
gave him my heart like it hadn’t been hurt before
gave him my soul like it was a lollipop,
i let him take total control
i wasn’t worried about another mess,
it was only one heart and i was positive it would heal
yet still, i had high hopes in HIM
since then, its been handled like a fine piece of glass,
an accolade
and i am at rest
