Bed Of Lies.

MORPHOSIS

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It’s the most comfortable bed to be in, trust me. been there, done that!

What happens when your life begins to be a continuous revelation of lies? lies that make you feel comfortable, lies that make you feel loved, lies that give you a sense of belonging….but they are all lies. thanks to the first few weeks of 2015, this has been my life.

“Smile more, worry less…” words from my mentor. But deep inside i wonder, how am i meant to worry less yet day after day, i am continuously deceived by friends and people around me, all in the name of “it’s better if you know less about the situation!”

So i decided to keep to myself this year. my plans, my goals, my achievements, my ideas….all to myself. selfish perhaps? from my point of view, I do it because I love me. Do you know how it…

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What love did; i know not.

It’s a 21st century viscious cycle to be at the top of the game that we forget that which matters the most,
So this is for you, my love….to be, i may or may not know of your existence; i may be anxiously waiting to meet you or may have rudely dismissed you before i knew how much you would make my heart succumb to your deliberate intentions of brewing a recipe that only my kind of love would understand: this is for you….
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inspiration

What love did; i know not, because in your past, i was merely a dream.
Not that you had planned for this meeting, but as you saw me sipping my cafe expresso on a cold winter morning, you decided that the past did not matter but a future with me would be a bit smarter.

Because of how i feel for you, i choose to let you be my Adam, for God made no  mistake with your form. The good, the bad, the ugly, the pretty, i take it all. So i beg that the insecurities of past loves shall not be the ghosts of our future.
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I know my generation is full of cold hearted beings, and just for a bit, i may be ashamed of my being in such a century but oh, darling, how beautiful it is to find that one soul that makes you trip just a bit, a soul that gives you a high that coc could never reach….that one soul that cares less about what love did, but is more interested in what love can do.

She may have given you her pot of gold, a body i would be envious of, the pretty face that most guys would droul just from a far…..but she broke your insides; fifty million pieces if your heart, scattered one by one, and picking them up would cause more hurt. Darling, what love did, i know not but my assurance of an everlasting love, intimacy from venus to earth; is all i could promise.

To her who let you go, she does regret,
What love did for her, too, i know not, but with you, it’s the best unexplained feeling. I choose to keep it to myself; well when I’m not bragging about you but how you make me feel, even I’m surprised that my levels of vanity did not take you as a threat.

One day, we will read this and laugh…. Not at how cliché it sounds, but at how much sense it will one day make. What love did; i know not, because the past is only but a stepping stone for our future
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A Game of Guns.

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02.02.015

…Because I don’t know whom to blame anymore; the government? The society? Religion? The economy?

‘Al Shabaab’ has been the word in our tongues, minds and cursed with tears for the past many years. It’s an unfortunate truth, but this militia group has recruited more than enough desperate, greedy youth to join them, with empty promises of making enough income to sustain them for a long time. But, this is the deal, “play with guns, earn the cash!”.

It’s a tempting deal especially if you live in this harsh ecomonic world where you basically have to hustle, tooth and nail, just for a basic survival.

We saw 148 innocent lives lost. Our children, brothers, sisters, friends; who were basically just trying to do what’s best for them and get a good education. They incidentally lost their lives, because of the greed of money, power and glory of the heartless militia group, Al Shabaab. The lives of innocent human beings were equated with cheap unlicensed guns; all these for the love of money!

Consequently, we’ve had our government say that they are doing the best they can to handle this group. However, is the ‘best’ a blame game on different religions? Clearly, thanks to what I’ve read on social media and the enough debates that have been going on t.v, its a religious battle of Christians vis-à-vis Muslims, where all there is to do is to throw baseless accusations to either religions and wait for their justification.

The society has chosen to blame the youth. But dear society, you raised this youth. The so called ‘Generation Y’, you did bring that up. So instead of blaming the youth and imprinting unnecessary pressure on getting all the ‘A’s in school, teach the generation the right way to live….and the right way is not being a doctor, or an engineer…don’t get me wrong, these are excellent careers but really, have you taught us the meaning of humanity? Generosity? Kindness? Teach us not the greed for money but the love for life and others!

To the lives lost in Garissa University, may your souls Rest In eternal Peace!

The Asylum.

It’s walls white,
Dress code; official.
I couldn’t differentiate the doctors from the patients.
“You are yet to learn more about our institution.” the receptionist said to me.
But i could barely listen to her.
I was still searching for the definition of this place,
I would soon start calling ‘home’,
A term that i associated with peace and chill.
Oh! The white walls and vaccumed tiles of the asylum.

“Your illness is easily curable here!” said a welcoming doctor.
I sheepishly looked away,
I did not know what to say.
A cold chill dazed through my body,
As if preparing me for a war.
Then i met my first friend,
Gazed at me as if telling me ‘run!’
He couldn’t hold me nor hug me,
But i felt like he wanted to….and so did i.
This was the beginning of a new life,
In this place i call the asylum.

Two years down the line,
I’m still at ‘home’.
Still trying to adjust,
With this new idea that him shall not touch her, because him is a weaker sexual being and might be led into tempation.
You see, before this new world, in my previous world,
Him and her would hug each other freely,
Because a hug is just but an expression of affection and both him and her understood that clearly.
But in this world, my new world, him and her should avoid each other like plagues or else the dreaded injection shall be administered.
And we all don’t want that, now do we?
It’s full of vague rules, my new world, the asylum.

I can tell that my sickness is being treated,
Slow but sure.
I may not agree with its policies,
But already I’m here.
There’s so much you can do to change the damn rules,
Because each patient has their own view.
And the few you convince to follow your view, are too scared of the dreaded injection and so they keep away from you.
Because in the asylum, no one is allowed to go against the authority.

“Perhaps I’m in the right place”
I try convincing myself.
“you’ll meet others just like you”
I mantra to myself.
But who said every mad man suffers from the same level of madness?
I was told that in the asylum, these white walls and vaccumed tiles, i would make or break my future.
However, the norm in the asylum was that every patient, would walk out of it’s doors fully healed and there would be a certificate and maybe a party to prove this.
And now, i look at my fellow mad friends as madness competitors rather than genuine, long life friends.
This is what i have become, a victim of endless competition and have no vision to see further than the limitation that this competition is having on me.
Oh the damn asylum.

Time flies though.
Just two more years and I’ll be out of this ‘home’
How i loath calling it home.
Because the home i know, the home i come from, i am accepted for who i am, my views are considered, my religion is respected, my voice is heard, my dressing is my choice, affection is allowed; i know no fear. I see no one as a competition. I have true relations. I am not gagged for talking about real life issues.
But in this asylum, i feel like i know not the world anymore.

I was told, because I’m a girl, i should cover up myself from head to toe, because that is regarded as dignity in the asylum.
I was told, because I’m a girl, i am not allowed to be treated by a male doctor without a nurse being in the room.
At the entrance of the asylum, you will find two, not so welcoming ladies, with matching and not so attractive uniforms, at either side of the door.
No, they are not there to usher you into the asylum. They are there to judge and critisize your dress code as you enter the asylum.
You see, if you do not adhere to their policy of ‘dressing in a dignified manner’ you lose your identity as one of the asylum patients.

At the asylum, other than the regular doctors who give you your daily dose of medication, you are also assigned a special doctor who is somewhat your personal advicer. Some good, most bad.
Now these advisors will basically design for you your whole life to make you ‘a better person’ for the sake of the whole community.
They will chose for you your friends, your religion and some may even chose for you your marital status. Well, all these depends on how much you let them in your life.

This is the first time in my life i dread the smell of rain as it hits the soil. Because in the asylum, this does not mean that patients should be tacked into their beds…or maybe take time and enjoy nature.
No, the smell of rain means nothing to the asylum.

However,  the asylum does have it’s positive side too.
It’s a one of a kind institution in the country,
With the best medical technology that heals even the highest level of madness and guarantees full healing based on the medication.
I have learnt that depending on self is the best thing to do and when in doubt of self, there will always be that one friend who whispers “you can do this!”
In the asylum, i have learnt that i have the power to control my emotions and that being beaten down does not always mean fall on the ground, sonetimes it just means you have the strength to prove them wrong.

Just two more years in the asylum,
Then it shall be a bitter sweet goodbye.

Oh the white walls and vaccumed tiles of The Asylum.©

J.

Why I Love Valentine’s Day!

*50 Shades of Grey* that’s why!!!!! (well, before it was banned in Kenya!)
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Oh well, on a serious note: this is why I’m looking forward to it:

1. 50% chocolate discounts:
To all those who know me, you particularly know my love for good chocolate and since it’s valentine’s day, why not take advantage of the crazy discounted prices of the good things in life.

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2. ‘love’ is in the air:
This reminds me of Lion King’s

🎼…caaan you feel the love tonight🎼

But then again

🎶disaster’s in the air🎶

Okay yes! I find it really cynical how people take advantage of Valentine’s day and claim their love for their better half in the most ridiculous of ways, kenyans being the greatest victims of this!
Dear ladies, Tell him, and more, show him you love him everyday. Don’t just wait for 14th!
Dear gents; if she’s yours for keeps, assure her. Sometimes that’s all she needs to keep going!

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3. No mediocre!
And this by far my favorite reason!

I wish everyday could be like St. Valentine’s day.

We all strive for perfection on this day. We make sure our dresses are  on point, that lingerie is well fitting (hey girl…) and that we look the most impressive and at our best behavior for him/her. But what happens ‘the morning after…’? Everything goes back to normal. The slogan changes from no mediocre  “..you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me…” to the mediocre of “…..i think we need space….”
But listen here boys and girls, let’s try maintain the no mediocre slogan even after 14th.
It’s Human Code!

4. Oh! The love songs:
And my witness….the call back tones in people’s phones!
And we Kenyans just know how to express love!
These valentine’s day, we’ll be served with all the romantic, sweet love songs from people’s call back tunes. And hell, don’t i just enjoy it!

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Okay lovelies; you’all enjoy your 14.02.!

To all those who have found a reason to treasure this day, kindly, by all means, go out of your ways and fully Enjoy it!

And to those like me, whom have not yet found that reason, or better yet, those of us who have not found the one person to give them that one reason, we could all enjoy the simple pleasures of Valentine’s day…..

Enjoy yourselves crazies and fakies!

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Love,
J

Love At The Altar.

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She bumbed into him,
This man who captivated her heart,
But to him she was merely a toy,
And object to be disected and manipulated,
Because in her he saw nothing but fresh blood,
She was that grand piano he would antiquely keep in his mansion and
She thought this was love.
Stupid her.

She never knew what love is.
She simply assumed that because he bought her a drink or two,
Then she could elope with him and tell him ‘I do’
…..because the only place she regarded to as an altar, was the bar in which the most expensive liquor was purchased…
This was the kind of love she knew.
One year ago.

He said he would take care of her.
She thought it was in terms of emotional and spiritual,
But he politely meant that he would devour her.

Wise she was.
She ran after she saw the mess she was approaching.
No that she was not already a mess,
She was.
A mess who felt unloved and lonely and phobic to the sun.
She equated the sun to happiness….Something she had never experienced. So how exactly do you tell an unhappy person to take a siesta under the sun? Or lick some good chocolate chip icecream under the sun? She knew no happiness; she wanted no sun!

Her search for true love led her to the gates of a place called church.
Throughout her hot mess of a life, she knew and assumed that church was for the ‘perfect lives’,
She knew that miserable, messy and purposeless girls like her belonged to late night motel rooms with rich men.
She was welcomed by an ‘usher’ who smiled at her and made her wonder “what’s the occasion for the smile?”

It wasn’t a “church day” as she later learnt. It was just a random Wednesday.
And she walked straight to the altar and there, she knew she had to talk to someone called Jesus, who was supposedly a supernatural spirit who sits in the right hand of God.
You see, the only spirits she knew were those sold over the counter at cheap bars and these spirits would numb my pains for a day until the morning after, when she woke up in her birthday suit next to a grey head!

She talked to Jesus. And after a while in her talk, she felt as though he was a father whom she never had.
She poured out her heart to him like a little girl reporting the bullies to her father.
She told him about the day she was raped by her uncle but her drunken mother was too busy getting high and wasted that she did not listen to her.
She told him about the lecturer who forced her to have sex with him in exchange of good grades,
……And that one friend she had but later stubbed her back and told her she wasn’t good enough, she told Jesus about that too.
Three hours into her conversation with Jesus and she felt some sort if way.
Not the same sort of way that she felt when she went home with a stranger,
Not the sort of way she felt when she danced her heart out in the clubs,
Not the sort of way she felt after championing a cat fight over a man,
No. Not that sort of way.

She felt light.
Not the kind of light she felt after heavily puffing some well flavoured sheesha!
She felt as though her burdens were finally off-loaded from this huge track called life,
She felt love….
Love like a king loves his princess….
Like a mother loves her offspring.
She felt as though she was having an afternoon tea with a king!

This man Jesus was great for her!
He touched her in a way that no man has ever done.
She had a glow on her face.
The kind of glow that tells you she had found true love.
She looked happy.
The kind of happy that was genuine;
Not the kind she had to put up a show for in the bars and clubs.
She found love on the eve of Valentine’s day…..

She found her Love At The Altar!