All Things Are Old

Leaving home is peculiar Strange, not in feeling. The strangeness fades in the waiting In being. Home is all you know. Alone Foreigner. Strange lands. New customs to learn Study. To live. Exist far from what you know You wil adapt They say. Hang on. Give it a year My chest hardens. Don’t wanna go Can’t stay The boogeyman moves with you. To your beat. In you Everything is new except for me All things are old, excluding me

Tainted Saint

She was sure they were watching her. They had to believe her. If not, she was doomed. She wished she could hear what they were saying, but inasmuch as her hearing was slightly better than average, she could not hear through walls. The two-week battle in her mind on whether or not to come to the station had been lost. Behind the mirror, the two detectives stood watching her, unsure of what to do.  “Morio, is this something?” “What?” Detective Morio turned to look at his colleague in surprise. Considering it as the truth was insane. “Come on Otieno, we’ve …
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Nights like these 2:46am, a cup of black tea Pen in hand, free flow Pitter patter on my pane Socks on warm feet Nights like these Need no wish Creep in with contented chests Cloud covered skies Moon glowering through Nights like these 2:53am, a warm blanket, crocheted The final sip of black tea A body in the covers Held till daybreak Counting down hours On nights like these To forget naught what day brings Grey skies and showers To never forget


Not-so Angry Endings

When I started this rant, I had titled it ‘Angry Endings’. I have since edited some of the angry parts out, and part of it may be because I had a conversation today[29/03/2023] that was overdue for ten years, and I feel great. I have been contemplating endings, and not only because my Netflix subscription was for The Office and now that it’s not there anymore, it feels like a never ending vacuum of my money for shows I can find elsewhere. It may also be paramount to clarify that my thoughts were not of the self-harm kind, in case …
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From a faux-deep mosquito

You assume I am in hiding That I find you terrifying When my mouth can do More damage than you Okay, maybe not But if I get away With blood on my hands And lips and stinger Who’ll be laughing then? And not in hiding Suffering ceases to be suffering when it finds meaning Viktor Frankl I watch you in the dark Yours cannot see me Your frame, delicious in most parts Marked with palms that slap To kill Kin squished Blood spilled Yours, granted But if I get away It’s your blood on my hands


There were seven sisters…

There were seven sisters. Zosa, Bumis, Pos, Sera, Pimnis, Pejil and Zicharo. Zosa had the hustle. Her love for her effort got her foot out of bed in the morning. She hated that she was emotional, but sometimes, people did piss her off. That’s what happens when you have things to care about. She couldn’t do calm like Bumis. Even though she knew her sister’s calm was always a facade, Zosa wished she too had the talent to hide behind a smile. She wished she could quiet her mouth at times. It had proven futile. Pos was dirt poor. Not …
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Caught In a Candle

What it is, I’m unsure It flickered, may have lit up There’s definitely no cure Trust, I have looked What it is, I am grateful For talent, that comes as easy as the sun and moon What it is, as it flickers Is definitely not a blast It is caught in the wax Sticky, but hard when cold the blizzard too strong And it, caught in a candle



Late into the night sky; Do you lift your eyes to the heavens when I call to you? When the night sky is dark except for the shimmering and I face a crescent cut. Do the strings pull in your chest as mine hope ever so hopelessly? You come fleeting by As if nothing means everything and truth lies on your sole. Crushed, awaiting an end to the era that never was, and is it coming? Am I good enough? Are you? The mirror cracks every time it doesn’t and no words can fix the facade. Fleeting like the memories …
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The Way

You live by way of pert Arms outstretched; Intuition shut-down Your soul an ewer of emotion A visionary sans vision Packed fresh for Thanatos With dreams of red You live the way they act Stuck in cocoons of unsteadiness *** I kinda sorta maybe feel like myself again, finally, and will post every fortnight till the year’s end. There is nothing to report, kids. Everything is great, which makes me wonder when the other shoe plans to drop. However, until it does, I plan to revel in this energy. I came to this poem with an idea of what I …
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Fencing ocean

Short Story #3a

I have a cold, and was rained on today. So, I found that reason enough to take it as a reminder to post this before Thursday ends, because that’s how deadlines see my boots! I feel much better [from the cold] and might actually sleep better that I did last night, if at all. This is another short story that I kept telling myself needed a second part too many times that I actually gave it a part B. **we still have no title for this, so we’ll just call it ‘Short Story 3a’ for now Short Story 3a If …
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May 2023

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