It has no name, that which presses weight upon her head A steer of wind, a vortex of a gloomy gorge, rough and blustery. In her genteel heart, there is emptiness, and she bears the weight of an anchor She does not seem to care, nor want to, yet she craves entirety There is a heavy stone inside her head, and she cannot bear Yet it has no name, whatever that is. I warned her, and yet in my belligerence, my words came true She did not care, ‘’After all, what does it matter to lose one soul, Millions have been lost in ages,’’ The voice from her laughter, so calming yet her eyes gave a stern glare The false conviction in her gait, her neck so high, disguising her fearfulness Hankering a little insecure girl in deep want of love and passion yet with fear of uncertainty.
She fails to make meaning of life. She breathes but does not really feel alive, she smiles but is never happy The face she wears out in the open is ripped into a forlorn and sad grimace at sunset She looks at the desire of her heart heretofore she cannot claim Her lips burn, her hair stand, and her skin tingles But she cannot allow herself to be vulnerable, her heart burns and her head pounds
The full moon comes, and the old pain of torment And the fear that she might never find what she is not looking for yet desire She is uncertain of what might be of her being alone, or of courting. A stone rests upon her heart so heavy, And on it, there is no name, no answer to her troubles Only one truth, that she is bound to suffer with every breath she takes Her duty conflicts with her heart, she knows not whether it is too late to turn back from duty and away from desire Broken, solitary, and under the scrutiny of those she much hides her feelings from And when she hears a baritone voice, her heart skips a beat Silence follows, and her soul dances, but a memory of her life’s meaning flashes, Soon, her head bows and her eyes shine, and she wants death more than the life she craves A feeling of emptiness floods her wholeness What she once felt, love, passion, happiness, and joy. Well, they are gone, and there must she remain, She cannot name what she really wants nor what she really feels, She is consumed by her own expectations, Yet it has no name, that which she endures.
But I only felt it once First, a soft touch like a pat on my shoulder And then an itch begging me to scratch Followed a boring prick that left me burning in pain and discomfort I felt my heart pounding faster and faster as the little creature steadily hummed close to my body And with its wings wafting a cool little blow as though to calm me of its own sting. I did not know where I was, and my legs could not move an inch All I knew at the instance was that I was alone and going to stop living Then suddenly I was down, and all movement stopped like an occluded car engine.
The roof of my mouth was dry, I could not swallow Every breath of hot air into my lungs robbed more water from my dry self They called it The Sting of Life, for not one of the hundreds that were stung yet drew breath. So, I gagged. First with quick successions, then slowly, I was in deep sleep ‘’It is going to be the loneliest death of all,’’ I thought I could feel air leaving my lungs and none being drawn in I could feel my heart slowly fading and beating tardily I tasted salt in my tongue, and then pepper, and then soil, and then there was darkness.
In the darkness I could see some light, and a silhouette of a woman’s figure! Oh, my joys, the joys I had nursed so warmly I felt my lips move as though to smile at her, holding a lantern to my face I could see her, but I could not see me, and her eyes widened with zeal and anticipation I wanted to speak to her, but no words came off my mouth And I wanted to touch her, and ask her where I was at She was a beauty to reckon! Here we lie, without life, for we chose not to live Because we had much shame to let live Here we lie, stung to death, losing time and chance But I would rather be here with the love that hears my skin tingling Than live a shame.
Here where we wander freely and without purpose nor expectation Here where there is darkness, but we can light a lantern to see each other Here where we were stung to.
And I wonder When then, will it ever end? Tomorrow means less, We’re the salt of the earth, awaiting a storm Dust, my friend, to dust all the pain, all the losses All that we have overcome means nothing We might have cast the darkness away But it still remains just within Always broken, always scarred Death awaits, in the wind we wade Lots of secrets await us in our graves But at least, today is silent. Salt, of the earth, is all we are So I wanted you to know, that I will bother you no more I know it’s a little too late But I’m sorry, I want no more bruises Whilst the lights fade out, I’ve bled enough And we have nothing to talk about anymore This time next year, I’ll be gone, or you, or just I. Yet still my lemon head wonders When will the right time be, for lemonades?
Nothing is ever round, or flat, or plumb: I see now in trueness, that love is blind Whether two are joined together in a blossoming romance, Or merely just a fetish and immeasurable desire for pleasure. I cannot see or smell the freshness of the greenest leaf nor life’s earnest beauty Whether it is my inability to smell or see, I will fault it on love I have neither the heart to stop nor the intent My dreams and visions have become but a reverie all for an utterly made creature For oh, my love is born of one dream divine, Sandwiched in the beating amazement of my intellection. Last night I dreamed her face, and I almost saw it I know nothing else but her and the scent she wears The thing we share, is what the vast creation craves, the joining of our lives for eternity And only at the touch of my lips on her face, is when the trumpet shall sound. The only sounds I know are the sounds of her gasping as though asking for air, And of her groaning and squirming whilst honey flowed from the parted pot along my fing’rs And the sound of her heart beating faster and faster as I breathed on her triangle of hair And a feeling of peace in the warmth of the sea like transferring my life into her and taking over hers.
It is true, love is fire, and food and wine For I feel this surging billowing heat inside of me when I think of her And an insatiable hunger and unquenchable thirst and lust It is like, when I am alone, I want nothing less than her. It is like the world is on fire, and no one can save me but her Oh, this feeling.
Tell me how life can be prolonged Tell me how to become immortal, so I can spend eternity with my precious love Or assure me that there is life in death. If I must die, bury me then, with a painting of her, so I will not forget the love we shared I have walked, I have trusted with open eyes I have seen all there is to see, but I do no more All because of a simple word that was whispered to me by a daft musical voice I have plunged my head deep in the moving depths of desire and intimacy So, if I must die, let me die with her But if I must wake from this dream, Tell the room service I did not mean to.
Mirror mirror on the wall Not too light, not too dark Oh if I don’t have it all! In the shadows I’ve been known to lurk For the world was on fire And no one could save me, but her Had I not been such a crier And looked in the mirror with a blur Perhaps, I could have seen my all too lonely soul Burying myself deep in this forlorn hole.
Sinner man, where do I run to? All my hope is lost And now i am all but wrapped in this deep black hue I feel like I am becoming a ghost! Yet I look in the mirror, and I see myself Not too tall, not too short But tell me now, is this an elf, And all my life, is just a swart?
THE GOOD, GOOD OLD TIMES It was nice,whilst it lasted, The love I never dare confess,yet harder to repress The times I sat at the balcony, And you came into me with a wondrous kiss, I named it,’the kiss of life!’ For with the touch of your lips,I felt more and more alive again Your chest pressing,softly against mine, Your beautiful wine gourds chubby on my face, It was nice,really breathtaking,when I saw your yes Dazzling bright,and sapphire, I remember the good good ol’ times When we sat to watch the sunset,o’er the grey cloud I found everything extremely overnice! I remember the good good old times, When I thought you japed about my big big face and forehead I loved your witticism. I cannot forget to tell you,dear reader, That at this point,I did not loose my beloved I just lost something else to write about But before you turn another leaf,dear reader She is what is,and what was!
It is your voice,and novice,that I hate,my love When you up your hand cutting me mid-speech Just to hear you blabber, and your agitation Are you ever calm, or even a listener?I doubt! All my ears can hear,or eyes can see,till all be done Till you sit to listen, But ah! That time I might not live to see. I never cease to wonder when last I heard your silence Yet you don’t sleep in silence,but soundly Snoring and I recall my thought to kill you And probably lay you in the parquet flooring. My love,when last did you sit to hear me finish my word, Before you quickly interrupt to share your bitterness? I remember we did not share our vows the other day Nor finish my proposal at the foyer, Because you talk too much than think. Oh,my love, It’s not hate which I feel for you,I must say, But love and concern for your tongue But if I’m left to choose between you and death, For sure It wouldn’t be you I choose,
Yet I want to talk to you of the little things So fond, so frail, so foolish that one clings To keep them ours—who could but understand A joy in speaking them, thus hand in hand But I fear,I will be the one to listen,yet desire to talk! Uncle D
Dear old reader,yet another time to remind you; Under the drab and sad faces you saw at EDITH’S burial- I’m afraid,half were rejoicing my tying knots with AZRIEL the daughter of ANTOINE The enchanted hour,The magic bower, Where, crowned with roses,Love love discloses.
Dear reader,before you turn the next page, You probably forgot that my mortal Islam RAHMA ; He knelt on his right knee,and she said YES! While a lifeless life lay supine in a coffin right ahead. Whilst her lifelessness slowly belted six feet under, ELLEN wanted a wedding ground We all sat in congratulation of her, trampling over the fresh grave. Once and again the thought, ‘for ever gone,’ Come over us like a cloud; yet, My father finds his happily ever after crying,for the loss of her mama, His charm fails him not,and he woos her into marriage,
Dear reader, before you turn the next leaf, Think of her body’s loneliness. At night pacing the sheared field, its shadow buckled tightly around. Think of those September rains,or the blazing Junes and Mays I should never rest in peace! When I die,I want four weddings at my funeral! Duncan Kiplimo Uncle D
