Thursday, 23 March 2017

HARDENED CRIMINALS


Yes, they are HARDENED criminals.
They robbed your house on Monday night, took your Plasma TV, came back on Tuesday morning to take the remote.
Yes, they are HARDENED, depraved, disrespectful, incorrigible and any other negative adjective you might want to pull out.
Yes, remember the rape incident, that street girl who was raped by some HARDENED criminals? Yes, she didn't abort, she put to bed a bouncing baby boy, and not only her; many her type in circumstance and situation also did put to bed. Unwanted pregnancies-not unwanted babies.
Yes, the babies grew into little boys, little, and with enough intelligence to recognize their biting circumstances, and with just enough strength to do little jobs, and when there were none, to beg for what to eat. They roamed around University main gates, they roamed along major roads, you oozed Pears baby jelly, frankincense, and other wonderful fragrance, but they oozed nature tinged with some filth, they stretched out their dingy little hands towards you when you halted in the traffic, you spewed out a curse and ahead ahead, they moved on to the next car.
Then they grew, grew stronger muscles and hungrier bellies, and with enough strength to do heavier jobs, many saw the pay of crime and were broken into the craft. Yes, now they are HARDENED criminals, out on a socioeconomic revanché.
Yes, they could have become doctors, engineers, lawyers or historians, but nursed by poverty, and sired by violence, they now are HARDENED criminals.
Yes, they are HARDENED criminals, they will soon rape some street girls and copulate another baby boy to continue the cycle, they will soon rob a bank, or your home(snap your fingers and say 'God forbid')...
But years ago you didn't show a little kindness, years ago you didn't pay a child's school fees, years ago you spewed out a curse at his dingy hands and he ran away, ran away to grow stronger muscles.
Now that the nuzzle of his gun is at the back of your head, do remember that he is a HARDENED criminal and hand in the TV remote.


Monday, 20 March 2017

A LONELY NIGHT'S DREAM




I am a lover boy. I love to dream. I love to sing and I love to tell of dreams and songs.
I cannot dream alone nor sing to trees and tell to nothing of dreams and songs, and so I need a lover too, one who would love to be with a lover boy who loves to dream, who loves to sing and who loves to tell of dreams and songs. And when I saw my need, I thought about you.
And so it was that you would come in my dreams of the night and visions of the day. You-the one who loved to be with me would come and seize my imaginations. I could not describe the face but I knew I would know when you surfaced. I knew you would have her form, her voice and demeanor, and I knew you would love to be with me- a lover boy who loves to dream, who loves to sing and who loves to tell of dreams and songs.
Imagine the wonder when my eyes fell on you. It was too good to be true.
I thought I had created you in my imagination and that you only lived in my dreams and came in my visions but when I knew your age I saw that you had come before me, my angel to lead me in the way. And so I searched my dreams and searched my visions for the prototype-it was the perfect match, and though love is blind I was a one-eyed lover.
 The planets alligned-Mercury leading the way, the gods celebrated when you got on my stage, you sat on my seat and wrote on my desk. Around the sun, you are hottest and first in line, but too first class and first in class.
Beyond the ifs and whens, I thought it was now about who wanted it most. Patience was key but also a lock. I wanted to have your ears, to tell tales of dreams and songs of you, and to sing songs of dreams and tales of you.
Patience won again as I was not the first to sing or tell a tale...it was about keys opening the right locks, unlocking the right doors, pressing the right buttons, greasing the right palms, warming to the right heart and praying the right gods to answer the right prayers.
When all was right, it was alright. We ticked the boxes, crossed our Tiiis and for our eyes, there were winks.
There were seasons and patches, times of dust and of rain drops, hazy mornings and blizzard nights, but cupid had taken my golden arrows and shot into your heart. It didn't matter if we danced in the rain or fainted in the sun, day or night, blue or red, we were safe in each other's heart.
Together we sang for joy, together we counted the stars, our luck and blessings one by one, and we counted our mother twice while at it.
Together we dreamt, together we cried, we played and prayed, kissed and hugged.
But he came along...and she came too.
We snapped out of fantasy, we frowned at our weaknesses, we quarrelled, we fought and in our separation I wondered if it was really you, I wondered if it was me. I wondered how things could so easily have changed. I thought of the days when even a blank wall or paper was an interesting topic between us. But those days had gone into the crevices of memory, to be treasured or forgotten.
Everything is fair in love and war, and so while we made up, you did your make up and walked out, out of my dreams, out of my visions, out of my stage, out of my songs, and out of my tales. Soon, you'll walk down with him again, and while at it, I, stranded and cold in the woods, would wonder after singing to the trees and telling tales to nothing about this dream, 'Are you the one or do I expect another?'.

Saturday, 4 March 2017

WHILE IT RAGES I RIDE THE WIND.




I think about winds, about trees dancing and swaying, bowing in obedience to the imperious wind. The windows are gliding noisily, pages of books flipping, and drawn curtains rising and falling.
Yes, the tides are changing, clouds are gathering, like cotton soaked with dye, they are pregnant with rain. For silver linings there are trepidations, for hope there is fear, and for every little child readying his kite there is a storm coming to lift and toss both him and it.
The storm is raging, now there is pressure pushing us to the extreme, pushing us to realms of no moderation, to realms where there are no middle grounds, where it's either hot or cold, and to realms where every one is a beast; beasts of burden and beasts of no nation.
You hear whistles as the wind slits through the cracks, they talk of hyper liberalism, they talk of accepting everyone, everything, and of being in the spirit of correctness; hug all men and offend no man.
But miles up in the air I am the eagle soaring, riding the wind. I am the main event, the mega match, and the game, standing up to all winds and bowing to none. I feed and nest on mountains, a realm where there are no swaying trees or flying paper kites, jerking doors and windows or drawn curtains rising and falling, where there is nothing that talks of weakness or compromise.
Constitutions may change, others may flinch, but I ain't giving in, not giving up I will keep flying above this depraved world, the cascades, and defying this defiling gravity, while the wind blows I will not be tossed, I will soar, and before I perch I will hover. A rebel; I will keep fighting, and I will be a soldier till the war is won.