Masters Of The Loos

In the cubed chambers, What's done there is amazing, In the comfort of privacy, Waste and exploration meet, Creativity picks to the peak... You may wonder, The ingenuity, Behind absence of paint and brush, But the strokes on the walls, Where the finger becomes the brush, And you know what the paint is! But some messages are so strong, And the drawings so artistic, Does this amount to vandalism? Before you make furrows, In that caked face of yours, When did washroom become a studio? Don't you think the photos stink too? Or is it love for the feeling after dropping the load? But don't we love the toilet mirrors? #Nomys_Madness

Who Are You?

Who are you? The photo is unrelated to the poem. Photo credits: Daily Nation You're a specialist in awakening my best, Every moment we chat, Hold a conversation at the wee hours, And the neighbours wonder how long a call can be, For your stitches, Your stories, Are always so green that my vitamins and minerals level shoots to the stars, Like a comet, You leave a sparkling tail, Tail longer than any epic tale... Who are you? I'm lost into your world, World full of ambition and passion, You dare the river to move uphill and the sun to rise in the west, Your glow grows like a wild weed on a fertile land, Wild fire on a windy day wouldn't outdo your speed, The rush to get the unexplored... Who are you? With boldness of a rooster, The courage to mount on your target and spit the seeds, The seeds of your desire, The desire of your heart, The heart that was once hurt, That heart that's wandering and wondering where its true destiny, True destiny, will it ever find rest? Who are you? A friend or a confidante? A joker or a joke? A masquerade or a lover? Your identity,is synonymous to your complexion, You're simply complex, A natural mystery that needs a nerd to demystify... #Nomys_Madness

WHORING

They'll bump into you, One after the other, Full of lies and cheap stolen cash, They'll rap like hooded goons, And beg like the proverbial camel, With their malicious intentions, They'll haul their false hopes into your places of worship, Distract your funerals with crocodile tears, And steal all your fun with their feigned social concern... After falling for them, And their cruel antics, They'll fly to better lands, Where their security is guaranteed, They'll sleep in the August house, And expand their accounts, For your money will be diverted to theirs, You'll die and sink in lack, Their bellies will bulge, And belching will be a normalcy, Just as yawning is to you... And stupidly, You're shouting, Getting kicked, Defending quacks, Whose ulterior motives, Are beyond your stripping, And like a whore, Your services are paid for, Even if you carry the seed, The few coins you pocketed, Were the sign to the terms, That you're cheap, And desperate, To be used for one's pleasure, And zero strings attached... #Nomys_Madness

She Was Unique

Whereve she's hiding, he'll find her.PHOTO/COURTESY.



She wasn't weird,
Her happiness was in craziness,
Simple but out of norm,
Was her definition of fun,
For she was unique,
A laughter engineer...


That afternoon,
She kept on counting,
The number of beard on his chin,
As he enjoyed the little nap,
She kept on losing the number,
And chuckling to think of it,
She wasn't weird,
She was unique,
A laughter engineer...

He woke up,
Opened the ears first,
And the eyes tactically,
Then joined her fun,
Can I help you lady?
She softly patted his cheek,
I'm lost because of you,
And he softly replied,
I'll never be found,
I'm lost into you,
And they held warmly,
For she wasn't weird,
She was unique,
A laughter engineer...


On the dining table,
Her diet was lively,
Fresh fruits and veggies,
Fresh crabs and frogs,
Fresh love and laughter,
Fresh hope and loyalty,
For she wasn't weird,
She was unique,
A laughter engineer...


She wasn't weird,
She was unique,
A laughter engineer,
Wherever she's hiding,
He'll find her whatsoever,
If he doesn't,
His disease,
Laughter deficiency,
Will ensure he succumbs,
But before it does...

#Nomys_Madness

Cheap Chat

Our meeting point in the evening is a den that parents disapprove of,a falling shed cum hotel where we sip cheap coffee, sell rumours,tell our dreams and bet. The owner, makes a staggering profit of KSh. 300 a day. Mutwe is his name perhaps his naming squad noted his massive space between the ears and named accordingly, who follows the naming processes nowadays? Our talks are random and very small too. The most important thing is to keep the chat lively to suspend the memories of aching backs. You see, in a season like this, lifting cabbages is our goldmine for coins. Our muscles aren't left behind,like we put it around here, like the cock knees (who thinks like that?). We don't mourn, we tease and have fun.

We love fun,we have it.PHOTO/COURTESY

We, the guards of the Muchene village have been practising fairness in our actions. Of course, fairness in our terms is for the "fast rat" an explanation behind why Gathenge has impregnated three girls and sponsored four abortions (some of us are struggling to sustain one). His heroism has made our mouths busy and his story fascinating. His run away,remand and cheating escapades make some 'newly cut' revere and dream breaking his record. He has money as a broker who cons fathers and mothers with their consent and therefore buys us all. It doesn't take much as you can think of, just a cup of the cheap coffee and a several kangumus and he's in control, only when around but as he departs, his stupidity is mocked.


" This conman must have the genes of a rat and a fox!" Spits Mathuri. We burst and this exoneration is embraced.

"How does one dip his whatever in all the available depths and without protection? Let him get near my sister..." Threatens Rucwiri, the thinnest in our gang.


Mathuri is besides himself with laughter,

"The last time I checked, you were thoroughly beaten by two sisters only to be given a month rest with swollen limbs and a broken lip. I'm waiting to see your action in dealing with a well fed man."

We, the spectators are enjoying. Our ribs are endangered,and as the attention shifts to the lady beaten sister protector, we can't have better.

"You fool bought me the outlawed liquor knowing so well that sour milk was my single most fermented drink. And those idiots..." He stops, spits and sweats not to say another word.

Gathuri, a more sensible, quite experienced having nursed two post-marriage back to zero (asset wise) and already grooming for a third one, raises the security topic.

" Do you guys think its fair for us, the young to stay out guarding the resources of these freedom fighting aged fellows as they snore?"

That's a great silence pill, maybe unconsciously, we're made thoughtful. The responses vary. For and against. It's agreed that by the end of the day, the folks are dying and within no time, we'll be well rewarded. The only concern is on fairness, a major unfair issue.

The rain falls. Heavily. We're excited, there's job tomorrow, planting and pushing lorries on the neglected roads. The truck and tractor owner, Wamakari is campaigning for the area MCA, promising good roads and a better bridge, probably to ensure his business thrives. Sadly, most of us were so busy sipping the cheap coffee that the voter registration period 'left us' behind, I bet Omtata will try fighting for us,and lose.

It's getting late, time to see what the stinking(cowdung and shower skips ensure this) wives have prepared and of course the whines top the list. We part but not without a final replay of the rogue boy's wife who is nursing face injuries after a failed attempt to scare the girl alleged to snatch the husband and most importantly his weekly paper bag( shopping).

Unlike, sheep and the river that follow a common course, each of us knows his way home. Speed is necessary as cowardice levels rise, at least when we're not together. Hasn't the rumours stated that some of us are the thieves and muggers? Plus Mama Toto songs lately are suggestive,war...

#Nomys_Madness