Monday, 18 July 2016

SIXTY FIVE DAYS AGO...

It's has been two months,sixty five days to be exact. The roommate and her have had a life together. Only the landlady, the massive chest bearer with flat rear(they jokingly baptised her Lollipop) who has a clue that they had no prior knowledge of each other. Her office was the meeting point.

Beat, as Ben prefers to call her, is an MSc student who got bored sharing her nagging aunt's apartment. She calls her a modern version of Wangu wa Makeri, the legendary Gikuyu lady dictator. Her uncle is a regional branch manager of Faidika Bank. His authority ends in his office, at home he is a babysitter, a housewife and a nurse to the ever angry nag, the aunt. If that's her uncle's position, hers was a slightly above modern slavery.

Beat, is a music loving soul. Her real name is Beatrice, Ben cut it to Beat as a symbolic reference to her enjoyment of music beats. In addition, she fell for his poetry, love poetry to be precise. She has that brilliance to master, recite and dramatize his poetry. He has amidst much rebellion, recorded some of the presentations.

Ben, an MA student in Creative Writing is the infamous roommate. He was the spring of the alien idea, 'Let's share the available room' he suggested to the stranger. She blushed, then sternly lectured him that she wasn't a loose lady, a dangling ripe fruit by the roadside, ready to be picked by any pedestrian and the manner less bikers. He stole her show by a simple diversion, 'Coffee or tea?' He pointed to the direction of cafe across the road. They had just left the landlady and her new plot with a promise that one of them will be the tenant of the single bedroom on the first floor. She was perplexed. She'd wait.

They are coffee addicts, great brewers and on Saturday, their only day off, they tour Java for the best quality. Coffee bound them, like life smokers, they relax over it. They open up, share their mysteries and miseries. That day, sixty five days ago, they agreed to share the available room. It was convenient for both. She had her high density three and a half Bobmil mattress, he had a same sized bed. He had a gas cooker, she had utensils. They complemented and later complimented each other.

The rules were simple,she had the house the whole day, and he had it for the night, save for the weekends. She worked as a night shift accountant in the Bantas Hotel, courtesy of her 'sat on' uncle who created a connection, and her mother's love for accounts that saw her complicate her law studies with accounts, which she had a CPAK certificate. She hated it. Her law degree wasn't much helpful either, she cursed and ridiculed the very root of her career, a law clerk. A fortnight was sufficient to make it a loose end. She despised her youthful desires and sacrifices. A postgraduate was her next pursuit, she preferred lecturing to running up and down looking for and lying for clients, poisoning the society with immorality. Luckily, she had a funny roommate who made a life by putting down all the absurdities and adversaries in a fictitious humorous world. At the beginning, they had reservations but currently their tension is a joke. Who could have imagined that they could share t-shirts, khakis, sneakers and once in a while boxers? They made a pair of idiots whose laughter during their day off made the newlyweds next door envy them, maliciously of course.

Ben was a creative editor at a gutter press that struggled to confuse the advertisers in the name of convincing them. His days were mainly spent online,doing his research than editing. His contract demanded editing ten stories a day which he couldn't waste two hours on. The Boss,a former newspaper vendor loved his arguments, guidance and language mastery. The only he fear harboured;his editor was too qualified that he risked to be poached by the cruel giant corporations. Ben was at ease, he promised to stay. He knew that his ventures, studies and writing were best taken care of in such an environment. .    




His departure from the varsity with a degree in Linguistics and Literature was a great ego booster but a license in job hunting, which he couldn't easily fathom. His days were spent glued to the old mini laptop, the only reminder of his undergraduate loan. He couldn't help but type articles for a few upkeep bucks. His city survival was highly supported by his village friend who generously hosted him until sixty five days ago, when he had a new thought. And a new job that saw him enrol for a postgraduate degree that his host despised profusely as a waste of money that is scarce.

##########

Ben and Beat shared their stories, coursework, views,room, towels, bed but not bodies, at least not yet. The closest contact they ever have is a pat, slap,a hug or a peck in an extremely awkward situation when something really nice happens.

Today's topic is a dilemma. Beat's sweetheart, whom she says is a beholder of a shaky relationship, is coming. His departure from the bush, where he teaches Geography and History is facilitated by the school so that he can attend a conference he lied about. His conference is the darling, who 'lives on her own in the city .'

Ben's Cinderella, a character in his sixty five day old manuscript 'Climbing Business' and also highly featured in his 'Absurd Love Poetry Collection' is also claiming to land in his abode, since' he is now living in his own house, on his own.' She's planning to hang around for a few days as she sorts out her complicated transcripts. She had a special examination courtesy of a careless common course lecturer who awarded her a mere 26 out 100!

Coming up with a solution is inevitable. The time is not helpful, it's running like a maiden hen after the cock spits on her for the first time. Her guy is silent, humble but critical. Cinderella is a jerk, but not in presence of strangers. They're certain to be treading on eggshells, not that it matters. The two newcomers have two options, they either understand them, or leave. The third option is obvious but not yet tabled, give them freedom to swim in the sea of their refrained fantasies. By the best addition, their friends believe they're a pair too shy to confess their love.

Bit(yes, that's his name) is the first to arrive. He hugs Beat warmly and due to his intuitive caution, he spares her the kiss, not until she explains who he is.

Cinderella does the same. She hopes that they're just friends and will be out soon.

The introductions are suspended until lunch is taken. Beat, the lawyer in the house, will lead the arbitration process. Ben is waiting to touch his keyboard, a climax is in the making, he hopes his fingers will still be intact to type and his skull,to compose the literary juices if not spilling its thick brain somewhere. He hopes that the matter is solved amicably. He curses Beat for rejecting the idea of inviting two friends at least for their own security.

##########

Cinderella is a genius. Yes and all along Ben took her for granted, her studies in sociology must have had a great impact on her reasoning.

"You're a great pair, so at ease with one another.You manage your endeavours and interaction in a remarkable incredulity. With all due respect and honour, I am good to let you be. Explore what you have been keeping for us. Then I hope Bin considers my proposal."

The room is silent. She's right but too bold, too soon. Bin springs like a great warrior, lifts her in the air and there he plants his lips in her worrying face, they kiss as Beat and Ben stare disbelieving.

Beat looks into Bens eyes; seductively,moistening her full red lips, she moves her hand around his neck, uses her index finger to draw around his confused face...
His blood runs, his bell rings uncontrollably,he's certain he'll feature in his masterpiece.





Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Can You Recall Clarence

DO YOU REMEMBER CLARENCE

 Can you remember Clarence,
The days when the flames made the sky pink,
The days when the minds stopped to think,
Our friends and brothers died as they tried to protect us,
But greatness is good that came to pass...

There were fights and deaths,
The blood flowed,
Like the great Chania,
Tears drew lines Clarence,
Greatness is good that came to pass...

How we were left orphaned as our beloved ones swam
In the abyss never be seen again,
We cried and cuddled together,
As the mass of the graves amassed grief in our souls,
We cried our hearts Clarence,
Our hope was on vacation,
But greatness is good that came to pass.

Do you have this memory Clarence,
When the sponsors came and gave us another chance,
To study in precious schools with zero pay,
How we cried our souls when they separated us Clarence,
We had no choice but accept lest our dreams faded once more,
Greatness is good that came to pass...

Do you reminisce Clarence,
The vows we made Clarence,
On the village hill as we watched sunset and the birds rest in the nests,
Never to separate, to stick together no matter the distance,
That was long ago and childhood was fresh and fantasy was great...

Now we are grown ups Clarence,
Do you mind keeping the vow or you'll cow and bow to pressures of change,
That will kill a great dream we thought to have,
Just be bold enough to tell me the pleasure that you stand for...

I'll never forget your comfort Clarence,
Your determination and the best in the world,
That made me write you a book at tender age,
That made the world wonder how a young boy could know much of love and pain,
But you were the motivation for my art Clarence...

#Nomys_Madness

Saturday, 18 June 2016

When I Will Choose A Partner



When I'll choose a partner,
I won't run in a poshy suite,
I'll trod on the muddy routes,
Deep in the big bush,
For I need a real person who knows no guise.

When I'll choose a partner,
I'll keep off far fetched faces,
I'll go for a natural Chiquita,
Who won't wake my artistic ventures with complains,
Of masks peeling off guard,
Of make ups disappointments,
Fake brows dropping,
Chest drooping,
Of butts misfits and misfire...

When I'll be choosing a partner,
I'll go for one without an alien accent,
That seems magnificent,
Until it ceases to be decent,
And the fraud of a nascent,
Exposes the ideal lady innocent...

When I'll choose a partner,
I'll go for a natural Chiquita,
One with genuine beauty,
An epitome of demeanour,
And a great sage in the making,
Whose simplistic approach is a complex to the 'models'...

When I'll be choosing a partner,
I'll keep in touch with the nature,
I'll grab a raw, tampered not fruit,
A first season flower,
An apple that will honey my life,
A chili that will see off the chills in my chilly times...

#Nomys_Madness

Wednesday, 15 June 2016

A GIRL CALLED JOYCE



Joyce,
She who dated her bosses,
She who begged her teacher's bang,
Joyce is gone.

Joyce,
She who drove a Rolls Royce,
She left her traces in many a lands,
The coughs are on rise,
Courtesy of the late Joyce.

Joyce,
The last one in the pretty series,
Her thighs broke ties,
Her lips undid clips,
Her curves made bends like paths uphill,
Only for the fall in a thud...

Joyce,
Goodbye,
Your team is following you,
And in numbers of that you can't imagine,
Goodbye Jocelyna.

#Nomys_Madness

SNITCH BITCH



She bumped in the other day,
Fresh from the bush,
With a plump devious ego,
A malicious agent,
Like a green mamba on young a grass,
She's slithering slyly,
Collecting crude venom,
And piling on the boss's desk!

Snitch bitch,
The new captain in the pitch,
Undoing any previous stitch,
Her actions sources of itch,
The secret behind any hitch,
Is it right to term her a witch?

Clearly ambitious,
Sacrificing others is auto,
Unfortunately,
We've known her,
Weighing,censoring words,
Is the next highway to survival,
Watching from a distance,
Eavesdropping her chats,
Letting the snitch fail,
For we'll leave not a trail,
For her to tell a tale.

#Nomys_Madness




Wednesday, 25 May 2016

Jeremy Please



Jeremy the class lover,
Joined the team that drinks,
In bars that your salary lasts an hour,
The sons of country owners,
The daughters of key financial thieves,
And you thought you were stylish...

Your kids will starve like demons for souls,
Your wife will be ragged,
And your papers a tattered bunch,
Love class to lose class?

Jeremy,
Put shoes your fit,
Not shows to your feet,
Your dad wasn't a land grabber,
He was their cobbler,
If you think they're your class,
You'll lick their boots,
Like a hungry desperate mongrel...

Drink in your dens boy,
Save your a*s embarrassment,
Scratch your comfort,
Let your esteem rise,
Above your crazy fantasy...

#Nomys_Madness

Tuesday, 24 May 2016

In This Area...



Daughter,
This a rare area,
Where men and women,
Old and young,
Elite and illiterate,
Dine and wine in the gossip cafe,
You'll never be surprised,
To be trending yet,
You have not even the vaguest idea!
Steel balls are the least of your package.

Son,
What is unknown to you,
In this area,
The parents send their daughters to you,
And if you fail to fall for them,
Unto your neck they'll be forced,
By rumour spread and allegations,
To survive,
Steel balls are the least of your package.

Brother,
In this woozy wild world,
Sons and their fathers,
Swim in the same shame pools,
Little headscarfed hypocrites enjoy the swing,
Claiming that fruits and seeds are all edible,
Steel balls,
 Are the least of your package to make it here.

Sister,
In this vile village,
Rules are raw,
Pious during the day,
Doomed in the dark nights,
Masters of masking,
A double life only survivable,
If you have a pair of steel balls...

#Nomys_Madness



Saturday, 21 May 2016

ISOLATE THE TWO



Dealing with certain groups of people is a big challenge. It pushes one to suffocation. Monitors and prefects of my artistic ventures. I need to clear the air for the team that thinks all an artist spits is factually measured.

The simplest departure on this issue is to begin with;what's is art? My reference points out clearly that it's the CREATIVE activity, usually with an AESTHETIC focus. Creative to mean imaginative, original, expressive,inventive or the ability to create. Aesthetics is all about the beauty, tasteful, or the artistic appearance. Too many definitions?

The characters in my work may not necessarily be real people actually the percent a of reality is so minute that microscopic search would strain. I have no relationship with my characters in any way save for me being their creator and manipulating them to deliver my message. They are my subjects, in the world of fiction.

Of my topics,issues, themes and anything that I tend to address, I am a mirror reflecting the society. Some topics are purely mental creatures however triggered by the social observations.

The "I " in my pieces and the real "I " are two distinct characters. They may be connected but highly independent. As earlier indicated, one is a subject and a creation of the other.

Why this rant? The moment you define me basing on my characters you're misleading yourself and killing the chance of meeting or getting to know the real me. #Nomys_Madness is a ruthless crook who doesn't mind giving all that he has to spit while the other person is so conscientious and delicately reserved. Don't rush into making such a conclusion that they are the same. One maybe hurt badly.

Thursday, 19 May 2016

This Attention Grabbing Cat



I have an issue,
With this little creature,
I take it for a tissue,
Be it real or a picture,
I hate this cat.

I hate this cat,
It makes me cry,
This playful brat,
It competes everywhere!

It competes everywhere!
Takes portion of my milk,
I will kill it I swear,
Sits on my dad's laps to lick,
And that's my coveted favorite!

And that's my coveted favorite!
It groans on my sheets,
It sleeps on my bed!
It staggers on my beats,
And grasps my attention!

And grasps my attention!
Steals big mommy's caresses,
No one plays with me,
Everyone sings its color,
Tailing it, I hate it!

#Watotopoetry

Venom Spitters



In the memory of my dad,
He who fought a faulty battle,
In the name of defending his people from the neighbors,
He took oath of allegiance to the gang,
The gang funded by the mafia,
The mafia that wanted the Boss in office,
The Boss whose brilliance was ignition and incite.
Ignition and incite that washed the soil with blood,
Messed the air with smoke,
And made the scrap metal business flourish.

That venomous spit by the Boss and his cohorts,
Made us have death for a daily bread,
Injuries a luxury,
Looting a fun,
Maiming a game,
And heartless a trait,
That saw our senses made wild,
Our actions stupidly bold,
We were more than animals,
Cannibals that needed salvation.

Our sisters drowned their virginity for food,
Our mothers betrayed their vows to see kids get the basics,
Our friends and relatives,
Showed us the other side,
That animals and human are close,
Our spirits were weakened,
And yet the Boss and his cohorts,
Watched us on television,
Made promises to us,
With their venomous spit,
That saw us split,
We listened keenly,
Ready to rebuild,
And like warthogs,
We followed sheepishly,
Thanks to shallow mindedness,
We...

If we'll fall,
And fail,
To see beyond the venomous spit,
History is ready to recur,
And ours will be unending pain,
As Boss and cohorts,
Watch over our woes.

#Nomys_Madness