GENTLEMAN OF PANACHE

The moon will be abashed, the sun ashamed, If on such a day I fail to open my floodgates and scribble this confessional melody. Every morning, as mist is swept away and dawn is spread across the mountains, These mornings, her steps trample the ground in hurried fashion, Paces accustomed to vision and focus! From distant safeness, my gaze captures her frame swaying away like a hut in the wind, To where? I wonder! For sure dusk will find me in my usual post of watch, Awaiting the replenishing sight of she as she trods back. I speak of none but of a ship that secretly trades her wares in my waters of infatuation, All that swims the path of the seas of passion, in mine they desist, For she alone I let! This African W.O.M.A.N I so drool! Yet, the smile of a stone! Warmness by her is a dead valley, for she is an ice-queen! As heat is reduced by the shadow of a cloud, so the expressions of suitors her way are stilled by she! Even the islands in the sea are terrified at

How good is a timely word? Dare I give a free rein to my complaint and speak out from the bitterness of my soul? Pour out my heart like water? I loathe my very love life, sadly! Tears are upon my cheeks, Streams of tears flow from my eyes and disappear into the doors of my mouth as water disappears from the sea or as a river bed becomes parched and dry. Out of the depths I hurt, My wound deep as the sea. Tho'ts of treasures that were mine in days of old, When heavens to me were no more but paradise was she. She bound me into a yoke of affection, By her hands was my heart woven She walled me in so that I could not escape. Her speech smooth as butter, Her words more soothing than oil, The scent of her blissful perfume lit fire into my bones. How can one not fix eyes on such a one? The eye cost a man what is most dear, A painful lesson learnt at a costly price, If weighed on the scales of right, my misdoings would outweigh the sand of the seas, But how can

My heart is stirred by a noble theme, not in part but in whole, as my tho'ts are ensnared by my verses, My fingers, the pen of a skilful writer, I proclaim my heart in the great assembly; I do not seal my lips, And share shall I my cup of lamentations! My soul is downcast within me, See how deserted lies this humble heart of mine, Once so full of youth, How like a widow she now be, Who once was jubilant! Joy is gone from my heart, My dancing has turned to mourning, Because of this, my beat is faint, And my light has long grown dim. The ear tests the words as the tongue tastes food, And listen keenly did I to every word she said; Am in disbelief, I may lack in many but wise I am in my own estimation. I am the man tho has suffered affliction by the rod of her wrath, Hers waves and breakers swept over me, Deep voices, too deep than the roar of waterfalls, 'sweeten' my night, Calm is no longer found, Bitterly I weep at night! I fear her affection will

Lost in the frenzy, had forgotten to pause for a reality check, Never imagined would be seated on hardwood, The comfort of my cushion a thing of ‘then ages’, The jewel that shone on my crown ripped off! Cold bites less…, You tear my heart into shreds when I stare into your eyes, For a shell to scorn back my sincere look of love! Thou wilt not be bound to aid mine bargains to take you home tonight, Thwart them if u may, am at your mercy. I wouldn’t take the stand and utter a single word in defence, For I be guilty to the fullest letter of my accusations. My eyes well upon the thought of letting my dove fly away, I grind my teeth with the realization that I yet have failed again, I clench my fist and bay for my own blood; punish the guilty conscious! Amour, The quality of mercy is not strain'd, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath, I humble myself to thy flawless beauty – I kneel before thy kind heart, I seek retribution for my inade

If I were to meet my gods this day, If I were to face the cruel of gods this day; As the wick of the lamp of my life burns closer inch by inch to its end, Before my blood gets cold, I bind the grace of all gods, That I may whistle the last song in my heart, In sight of gods and men, As stars look down in witness, That the dead shall dance here tonight. May the soft hearts of men weep for me when I depart, May they sing the songs of my sacrifices; the songs of heroes. My heart shelters the story that is me, And this day, I shall paint the last portrait of my heart, For the great lands to admire. During the museum of my years, My eyes have been poisoned, I have seen the innocent suffer, My tongue has been laced, And spoken not against the dirt of men, My nails have been trimmed short, And my fingers cannot paw upon the walls and scale the heights of greatness. If the moon of my life shone no more, Let these words be the nectar of the gods and as libation I pour

Within these confines that whisper of impregnable quest to quench the thirst of an ‘innocent monster’, Illuminated by the flickering light of years past, Resting upon the comfort of ‘wished upon destiny’, Sleepless thoughts of the ‘should have had’ dreams nudge the passion of fingers long lost in the warmth of broth that is life, And woo them they do! I know less why the birth of a new day finds my eyelids still pegged, The breeze of the ghostly dawn guard against the dreams of my pillow. Solitude be the bride I walk down the aisle, Every tick of the clock is a whack that coils itself round my haunted heart, I detest from wailing to save face from my proud self. Seeds of thoughts planted in yester days force their debut to the tiny surface of my mind-field, Yet am overwhelmed to tend to my thought-lings. Over and over, have pounded clay to mould my pot of wishes, But this new day, the clay for my pot of wishes does not smoothen to the touch of the potter. Like a thre

Tears so painful to harvest, Whilst so heavy a burden to harbor, If only everything would be golden once more! The fiercest storms hit the hardest following sunny days, Should have read the shadows cast ahead, Were it not for the trickery of the sun that made the shadows shorter, perhaps! This script, wish had rehearsed, Then would have known when to wince and brace the punch, But then, what if, the last time the dentist assured of a strong jaw! It’s now cracked; that punch! Regardless, Will make the play because have to, And crack your ribs to your gratification. Unfamiliar soils will have to lay a bare foot for the first time, And after a massage to sensitize the limbs once more, mine sandals shan’t let you wear again! Now am selfish uh? Thoughts stroll my night away, whilst peaceful dreams pamper the night you walk! You, the GOD, accept sacrifices daily offered. Will you reciprocate in kind? In favour of oiling your back, now you can’t help straighten my collar

Walked this earth till the soles of my feet pain from the blisters! Walked this earth till my lips are cracked with no water to wet them! Walked this earth …and still I am on course! The peak always a distance further! Have labored to fill my pockets with coin, Still nothing to show for my rough palms, Disappointments! Have shaken my head endlessly in despair, And a fashion have created! Maybe, A day more is what I need to fill my account, But to what end! Perhaps, A day more for Martin Luther King Jr would have ensured those glances are directed elsewhere, But I would be black still, wouldn’t I? Or rather, A few more soil is what The Creator should have used, That would have added me a few more pounds, But then, what would amuse you more than my lean figure, eh? Should I have worn a pair of shoes for this expedition, Then my feet would be safe. I should have gloved my hands, To save my missus a feel of tenderness and smoothness. Maybe I should consume some

Now what is it that am trying to do here? I wonder. I do not know. But let me go on maybe I’ll find out where I am headed along the way. You see, I found myself lying flat on my tummy reading a friend’s blog, Kiriga III is his name- actually his blog name, he got another name from a tongue I can identify with. Yes, a name from the land of Green Gold…Past that, this is not about him though he may well be part of it. Am loving the baby steps am making, though I keep tumbling over but am learning to walk straight, or so I think. This position on my tummy is a lil uncomfortable so I have to adjust to a sitting position and nurse my babe (read laptop) on my lap. Did you notice I said ‘a lil’? It is the shot form of ‘a little’. I learnt that from 50 Cent. You know his song ‘Just a Lil Bit’? Imagine back in high school, I once sang (or attempted to) the lyrics of that song and a pal of mine was like, “Yaani Tito pia wewe unayuanga hiyo song. Singeimagini!” Yeah! That should give you a

Sweet words mine lips utter, And I mesmerize the crowds with the nectar of words flowing from my lips. Be fooled less, Within me, the music I sooth thee withal, Is the howling of a night owl frustrated by the seclusion of the night! A lonely me… But tonight, my pains shall be shared only with my heart. Beyond, Away you set forth, On a journey to a place unknown, Impossible for me to straighten my palm and wish you well, My hand heavy like the love you have shown. I close my eyes to fight the torture of staring at your back as you walk, Instead, I vision your inspirational self glowing in the dark reading to me, Your artistic words that sprung from your tongue, I shall miss. What agony thou departure inflicts to me! Touch me once more, Breathe your poetic phrases once more, That lay calm to the sandstorms of my troubled heart, Give me life I beg, And fill this void your departure leaves. How I wish that every moment shared with you came back to the wheels of

Purposeful life! Challenging life! Frustrating life! BUT fulled by an unyielding spirit. Life a running clock, yet a basket of unsolved equations, Yet to find mine X, Still struggling amidst the quicksand! My ambitions fit the bill to a perfect world, My purpose mh! Applause! The fear of mortality a cut-throat in my endeavour, The straps of my back-pack (my commitments) cut in my shoulders! A savior come along, Take me when am most fragile and set me adrift, Make limbo tolerable for me, Ferry my wounded soul across the river of dread to the point where hope is dimly visible, Stop the boat, shove me in the water and make me swim, defying all currents, Let me look into your eyes and feel you staring in my soul and let the whole world go quiet just for a sec, Hatch me from my cocoon of self banishment, Oil me with nourished aspirations and be my ‘flying horse’, Ride with me up in the air, off to the night and free my soul so I may dance with the winds, And tonight, When

Budding love is like a seed growing slowly into a flower, Young love is like a storm rising, getting stronger with every hour. How often during those days, Do people, like beasts of burden plough, Slaving to smoothen the sands of loneliness to the fineness of companionship, Bearing the York, least to say, bearing the stamps of persuasion. To the hallowth grounds of a lover’s heart does a man limb, Forging the greatest weapons in promises and gifts, Ever with a view to lure the allegiance of a lover, And in the gutters scheme against insatiable competitors who compromise his efforts to win a fair lady. In the end, The soul cherishes the scars suffered in the confrontations, The whispers of a loved one soothes the soul, The universe forgotten during nights when a pair grooves into the wee hours of the night, disturbing the solitude of the ghosts of the night! The feel of a treasured one every morning lying by your side… Every given morning… Say I more of The Treasures

Were these lonely tears hot enough to scald through this wall of longing! Were it conceivable, I would hawk every single word of emotion that I may bid a path way. Darkness miles in contrast, the wetness fog my sight more, Stalling my pace to where the dance beckons. She was the first song I heard and believe I did in every word, Hence I adventure to hunt her treasures. I desire not to put my will to rest, Though this cave of deceit swung my destiny out of control! I am a sole traveler, The silence of the night married my loneliness. Drained of motivation whilst purpose steadfast in my quest. Her sign flickers in the woods, her words drown into the oblivion, Still, dance must I! Firm in hand, I clutch to my walking stick, to steady my step, Stride along to bear my dream. See nothing of my face again, to the dance I must jig. Though hard to say if I shall dance with her. If I asked, will she say yes? Still, dance must I!

Dream they did, our founding fathers, For a just cause, fight they did, For liberation, they believed in, And today we walk tall, gratitude to them we owe. Now; When I look upon the tombs of the great, Every emotion of envy dies in me. When I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, Every inordinate desire dies out. When I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, My heart melts with compassion. When I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. Bathroom promises, The bait on whose hook we hang, Nothing but a mirage; an illusion, We reach out to grasp, And the noose around our neck is fastened. Preach I would were it not for my prowess with this pen, Pregnant with hope, Bursting with anticipation; my eyelids shall never get weary, For you I do dream. To our nation, In moods of despair, Never forget that sunshine will ultimately come back, Its absence never permanent, Hang onto your fait

Manifold thoughts of ‘we’ gnaw upon my calm, Forcing down the walls I erected for my comfort. The tunnel to my chamber of love has since grown cobwebs and pitch dark, I only treasure souvenirs of how you used to clean it often with your affection. The ‘off-world’ of happiness, ages since I last set foot, Only in my occasional 9th dreams does my face glow, When you grace my fantasies, When my thirst for you is only quenched by a drop, a flash of your presence. Gloom has been my saddle, On which each sunrise to sunset I ride, Humping up the mountainous ride in search. In search of where the fields are green and plane, So I may pitch camp, And hymn tunes known only to your ears, And hope the spirits shall miss the beat to the songs, The beat of your heart as you lie next to me. And away I shall wish the spirits, To wing through space when the grounds are conquered by your suitors, To swim along the rivers when the paths to you are barricaded by the bile of our bitte

The air between our fingertips the only barrier between us, Our eyes passionately imprisoned in an unchain-able embrace, As my left foot, right foot, left foot slow step, ‘Til my arms are wrapped around your waist, And yours coiled around my neck. In the breeze of night, The candle-light takes lead, Swaying effortlessly to the urge of the music, The curtains take the inspiration and couple with the wind, Sideways we sway; left, right and to the centre we faithfully follow, Lost in the moment, absorbed in the tenderness of your skin, The glow of contentment on your face, my ultimate libation. Deprived of sense and without reason, The world but, the two of us, Follow-th mine flow, Into my arms rest-th; find comfort, For this night… Tonight I’ll be your piano-man, I’ll play every request that you wanna hear. Tonight I’ll be your guitar-man, I’ll strum every string in me to your satisfaction. Tonight I’ll be your flute-man, Place your lips upon my lips and I shall

The clouds of smoke wore off past the vision of sight, The ashes freed from the bulk of mass of what used to be to the handful of what was now, The gravel crashed from the warmth of rocks known for millions of years to the fineness tickling my bare skin, The sprouting green grass kissing the descending redness of the sun’s givings As the sunrays hunted the treasures from below and the moisture broke free past the surface, The roses danced to the persuasion of the whispers of promises known only to them and the bees, And they yawned in affection, sweetening the fragrance and my nostrils saluted in recognition. How the skies sheepishly battled to conceal their wide grin but how the cheeky clouds emerged supreme, Curving the content smile that had wiped my tears at my grand pa’s death bed (all was fine son). As the tree leaves parachuted from the branches that had nourished their well-being, To camouflage the bare ground below in the colors of a chameleon. A lady bird flew past

Tales have been shared; My grandparents hid to your call, And pull they did ‘til their backs broke! My parents trusted you they did, To the mud your footprints led them! The serpent you are, With your tongue you lied to be the change, A patched short in the rear you threw our way! With my eyes I have witnessed; Across the road you promised to safely guide me, Now I hop about in clutches! “Take my hand, let’s cross the river,” you asked of me, Now am dangling on the bridge fighting not to be the crocodiles’ meal! On your knees you swore, my table shall not lack bread, Instead, a hand with spit you extend! Is this thin sheet the warm blanket you promised? Are the nights filled with gun-shots the peaceful calm nights you promised? Is poison the medicine to tender to my wounds? In my finger nails I mine for yester night’s feed to shove down the throat of my generation! With my strands of hair I bait fish withal, mocking laughter the consequence! My pound of flesh the