Moments

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So, the last time we danced,

We prayed for the shadows to veil our fate.

Lost between the binder's of fairies & cupid dices

Deemed the soulmate venality.

Where we were once one,

Thrown at the feet of time

Never shy to declare what was,

But wasn't for the moment.

Tied to the rubric chances

Burnt as a remission offering

At the ego alter.

Denying the truth that held the air.

We were meant to be,

Nested in the sunset warmth,

Cuddled in dawning cold.

Sung, somewhere in forever binders.

Strangely perused by strangers perish.

Rhythmic Dust of Joy

Picture from Pinterest 

Upon the sterling rhythmic dialect sway

The thundering drumming smoke

Lost in between chants & the ground scent

Rich in melodies of wisdom

Pulling feet to dent the sky

Imprinted upon Savannah nights

Highlighted upon the sweaty moon

Mind tatted.

Hips tarted

Body shamefully forgetting time

Driven astray by clouding dust

Settled in sobering sound

Traditions intoxicating with joy

We found ourselves in a fix

Cradle of creation cuddled

Discovered between the pitching notes.

"Chamatengeru" on an insanity play

While "Jikinya" warms up ready to insert "Jerusalema"

"Jiti" begging to whistle the night away

Enriched with body sway sweat

Into blooming gardens of hope

We were all entangled in the past

Mind lost in Haven passion possessed

Dicing a slice of heaven kissed by the moment.

Runaway Culture

Say a little to save face

Dashing into the realms of hopeless beginning

We chased the wind hoping to find feet

Reducted in words, spilled amidst savanna dreams

Rinsed off the past

Crowned of the new norms

A hand to ask.

Lost between the dotted lines of the screen

We found love at the peripheral time

Called for a response, out of respect

Undressed in seconds

Our ways blown in seconds

We became the ghost town of self-respect.

A dollar to pursue

We yoke kids from infancy

Watching time to reward the handwork of the old

Dangling flesh to be a call for salvation

Yet in reality,

What was to build Mansions

have become a conglomerate of hopeless reality.

Wedding words into meaningless utterances

As "I love you!"

Now stands as the base for persecution

Blood soaking culture

To deflower what raises us to be.

Stealing hearts at face value

we have become a generation of X's.

Rooted Fire

 

we used to tango, to the rhythm of the fire.

Staring at stars painting our tomorrow

engrossed in a tale to calm the dust

evident on our heals

Held high in morale class

pitched by the chuckling charcoal.

Grandma oozing a fountain of wisdom

veiled in a tell-a-tale contest

brushed over some days by a rabbit

while other days by a baboon

on a tortoise shell to grey

covered in shadows of truth.

Whispered in a cause for Ubuntu

Devoured in the hands of imagination

we engulfed all that the winds blew

Reflecting on all unspoken spoken treasure

Straight into dicing of our fabric

To stitch back together our morale regalia.

Chiseling out social decay

Grandpa reinforcing tales with forged personal revelations

Roasting time to wind down

into social relationship weaving

Uniting all to the roots that sprouted all the branches.

Held in "once upon a time!"

Before the end send heads spinning 

Decoding encrypted wording in haste

To refurbish personal norms

To stand the trail of a village

Upon the encoded expectations.

What Will We Give for Tomorrow?

Photo by Anna Shvets

Rabbit Choices

We stand at the jaws of life
Ransacking on time,
which was robbed from us
seeking wisdom from empty shells
that were supposed to store treasure
logging grievances to the sky
while tucking our hands under our buttocks.

Knees scrapping at the alter of prophet's
Pleading for a profit
Out of our sweatless hands
Called to labor in thoughts
Inheriting dreams costing
that never grace reality.

However, if it does
We spend time bulling the ocean
Trying to swallow the missed past
At the hands of swollen feet
forgetting the looping wand
history tends to have upon events
Lingo coded as prosperity poverty.

Shackled to own mishaps
we curse the ground for pain
instead of taking a pen
& perusing the past for a lesson
To unlearn & learn barter trade
For us to trade poverty for prosperity.
***

Where we from...

Please can you spare some change for me to hold as an inheritance? Born into begging games, most of us find ours at the bottom of the bottle; never taught of money and savings as it is mostly deemed to be the root of all evil. However, growing up in poverty is never fun as everything you will get is always a struggle, meanwhile dancing paycheck to paycheck feels surreal. You are bound to do something drastic to your situation leading to regrets.

At this bottom, where we find ourselves we always seek to build an illusion of what we've managed to build for ourselves which usually leads us down a slippery road when we make it. Due to inadequate financial understanding, we tend to spend more than we should justifying our recklessness as a just cause.

This has been the story of days when we find ourselves investing more in liabilities over assets. I have personally seen it with my eyes, where someone starts to make money and their first school of thought is to buy flashy cars to show that they have made it. Yet, when the cost of maintaining them piles they begin to lose what was to be their kid's inheritance.

Some of us are so spoiled that we don't realize that our mission should be to work for the next generation. Because of this when we inherit something from our parents, we will mismanage it to the level that we go 10 steps backward instead of going forward. Thereby we leave no spare change, as a legacy for the next generation to inherit. 

Redress to Freedom.
It is high time our schools start teaching financial literacy to attain true freedom. Even parents should also start to learn about it so that they can educate their kids. This helps us to ensure we build a legacy for the next generation that is financially aware.

Picasso Code

Picture by Alteredsnap from Pexel

Pardon my rudeness as I interject with my perspective

Bombarded with thoughts that were meant to inspire a shift

Now a distant memory of what was once ideal

Contemplating the world of ones and zeros

Striving for perfection in mind and body

elusive of our true selves.

Not long ago, we used to paint skies and oceans

out of the raw desire

Now we impose our desires on screens

Painting a picture that falls short of representing us

Lacking empathy, lacking authenticity

And yet we call it our reality.

Born in the era of progress 

Trepidatious at the concept of a perfect rebel

we lead our spirits to an inevitable demise

Polishing reality to a faultless finish

failing to capture our essence

lost in the lens of reality.

Entangled in algorithms to capture our hearts

Engrossed in the traditions of the past

displayed on the canvases of our minds

Eroded by complacency, creating a culture of dependence

Yearning to be the pioneers of yesteryears in the present

Now recognized as a noble pursuit.

I long to resurrect our true selves

To experience the rawness of genuine emotion

Each imperfect moment striving for perfection

Before attempting to revive the obsolete to script this era.

*****

Despite my admiration of how easily AI has enabled creativity to emerge. I also fear that we have lost the touch of capturing our imperfections that used to make creativity a worthwhile endeavor of self-expression. 

Friendship Cure

How do we begin to light the light?

when storms of life seem to be the perfect logic

birthed in times of reclusiveness

we curved paths far from sanity

glued at screens of delusion, that deem time useless

yet back then, the fire-forged tomorrow's union.

Now we dance at the tapestry of stress

longing, yet unaware

cursing Blue for ushering typhoons

to our inaction to mend bridges

trumped by the past Savannah rhythm

where mental health drowned at the log🪵 

cemented by true connections.

Cherry-picked from the crawling of time

standing firm to the principle of moments

grown to strengthen another to the cyclones of the universe

yoked to the action of hope

"one for all, all for us!"

drumming louder and louder

forever indebted to be the perfect sanity pill

to appeal to the mist of life

fire-forging tomorrow's union.