the lights will go on

I am slowly slipping away from myself.
I'm watching helplessly as my body leaves my soul and my soul leaves my body.
The demons wage a war only the spirits can partake in. 
My eyes blink rapidly as tears refuse to slip out of them. 
My heart has stopped but my mind is racing; spinning with the wind and destructive like a hurricane.
My limbs are weak. My skin is paler than the ash after the coal has died out from burning all night. 
My body is trembling beyond control and yet my breathe is still as night. 
Something is eating at my soul. 
The demons are closing in and the battle will soon be lost!
But I must fight before I am well won over to the dark side.

I must hold on as the shadows pull my soul, mind and body into pieces. 
I must be my own pillar even if my own strength has long betrayed me.
It is getting dark and cold as I slowly slip away.
"Don't go towards the light," they yell as my eyes grow heavier and heavier.
I struggle despite myself and I push on like a whirlwind that's here to slay.
I break all the shackles and rise up like the phoenix at its rebirth!
I shall not be bound by spirits so light yet I'm made of bone and skin!
I find myself soaring high almost aimlessly but effortlessly!
I'm filled with vengeance and energy so powerful!
It's like the lights never went off that day!

They wany me but they dont want me

They want me but they don't want me

My lips stung by the bee they laugh
My skin like black dull leather so tough
Used up, dried up and very rough
Cover up that hair that's dry as hay
It will be muddled by the end of day
That's spoil sheep fur anyway

That butter skin with that lovely plump lip
Goddess on the whiter
Beastly on the darker
That wasp waist and that abundant hip
Divine on the whiter
Devilish on the darker

Syringe settled deeply into that pale skin
Fatten them up to look extra pretty
Your features are like that of my kin
How dare you! I'm not an ugly Betty
Unlike you who should be in a bin
Crying , whining and being ever so petty

But why are they all always so cross
Talking about the things we took
It is not yours anymore, accept your loss
I stand right here and take a close look
My identity has been stolen of course
And now I am done playing by the book

He has my soul

He borrowed her for a twirl and I let him lead her
He crushed her toes grudgingly and without mercy.
He did not care that his partner did not dance to the same tune. He was too self absorbed.
He twisted her over and over without a slight hint of consideration of how worn out her soles maybe from a horrendous disguise of a waltz!
He did not hold her as she landed on the floor. In an instant her head hit the tiles with a thud and her scalp cracked open!
The room went as silent as the grave! The demonic music made an abrupt stop.
I gasped but Alas! I did not dare say a word
"A coward that's what I was". I thought in horror as I watched him drag his dirty feet over what was left of her brains and carelessly grabbed another for yet another devilish swirl.
Yet I said nothing still. I walked over to her and wept helplessly for it was me that had given her to him even when I knew better.
"Was I so naive, was I so oppressed and had I no pride?"
Yet I looked over my shoulder and watched him break apart another and not a sound did I make.
I had created a monster, laid its bed and fed it.
Perhaps this was my destiny

Strength for days

You are a strong girl, you will be fine!
He had said these words and walked away.
He had no idea what impact they would have on me way after he said them.
Yes! He had broken my spirit with these words. He'd torn so clumsily a piece of me that I'd never get back.
He had taken the warmth from the cuddly part of my heart and thrown it in hell fire.
Perhaps I misunderstood his gestures. When he held my hand and squeezed hard! Was he saying he needed me or he wanted me?
When he whispered sweet nothing's in my ears I couldn't tell if he was politely telling me to zip up my pants I'd maybe forgotten to fix when I left home.
Or was he was trying to flirt with me?
But then again the slight teasing of the wind made me break out in a song and feel like a romantic Disney princess.
Maybe I imagined our whole relationship! Maybe Mr. Man was in my head!
But how could a touch so real be so unreal? Could it be? Was I real? Was he real? Was I sleeping through this all?

The crazy ex-girlfriend

Loud rings of anger and resentment echoed painfully through my head.
I was screaming within my mind.
I was driven to the point if suicide. My mind was obsessing over things way beyond my control.
Betrayal had stung like a heavy toxic creature injecting poison into your blood stream.
Strong and thick, cruised through my blood to my heart so painfully and quickly yet so slowly and sharp at the same time.
I was overwhelmed and way over my head. I felt the slow transition from depression to crazy hit me straight in the stomach.
It punched me so hard I had to hold my belly for support lest my legs gave up on me.
I was feeling something strong and so real and definitely not good for me yet I struggled to control it.
Yes his keys! How he values his cars!
 I was going to drop them in a ditch so hollow he'd have no way to go and shuffle with his various ladies. Oh yes he'd be damned if he dared!
Maybe I'd throw his shoes, burn them up! Something that would hurt.
I smiled gleefully and looked into the mirror. Suddenly, I couldn't do it anymore!
The look in my face scared my little portion of conscience left. My pride threatened to overthrow my crazy. We fought in a manner that was gruesome!
Crazy beat sanity and sanity overthrew her. My spirit buckled under the pressure and in the instant I'd turned into the crazy ex girlfriend.

Heart of glass : my first love

Sometimes we live to hurt even if it hurts to leave....
The situation that puts your head in the blender and crushes it like soft ice.
Maybe once I was capable of falling in love. Heck I thought I was in love so deep
My neck would break and I wouldn't sleep
Until my days passed slowly and swiftly
Into my wrinkly state where I'd watch you
By the side of my eye as we then white haired folks
Drew nearer to our Lord.

Was I in love then?
Was my fairytale story scraped off by the mere act of lack of gratitude?
Were the gods so merciless
That they wrote a story so brutal yet so perfect Of a heart meant to melt slowly
from youthfulness to old age?

I always wondered if I was cursed.
Girls fall in love once.
Maybe my once had come and gone.
There was a time I couldn't breathe...oh I was intoxicated with love so lethal my lungs threatened to leave my body
My heart had swollen in the most unimaginable ways yet managed to stay intact in my chest.
Ah yes! We were young. It was impetuous.
It was reckless. It was oh so good.
I loved him? Did he love me?
I adored him, he dotted on me!
Burning, passionate and extremely insane.
It withered so fast I thought I'd die.
Perhaps the flame we ignited was too strong
After it was done, it stung to touch, see and think

Hakuna-My-Lover

I drift merrily on the white beach sands of the great coast of Dar es salaam.
My head hovers freely as I go. I have had a few glasses but my insides chant in harmony. My mouth curves into a smile. I can not breathe. I close my eyes. I cannot feel.
Soft ocean waves caress my barefoot in perfect delight.
I'm at absolute peace. My dress dances fondly with the breeze. My mind is at ease and I'm unstoppable in that moment.
Flares of laughter and joy fill my heart and soul.
I smile knowingly as a new realization settles down my being.
A journey I always hungered after. Inspiration that no thirst could quench was finally smiling back at me up in the clear blue skies of Hakuna Matata.
It was like all the pain I'd ever felt was suddenly gone. I wasn't alone anymore. I never was.
So much beauty and tranquility engulfs me.
I can't breathe but I'm ecstatic. My body is a merry_go_round floating through a colossal abundance of serenity.
I have found my true love. I'm searching no more.

The stray

I sit here staring at my bony feet and chewing carelessly at my already heavily slashed down nails.
Suddenly, I feel the slight heat from too much friction. I realize that I'm twisting my middle finger a little too hard- something I haven't done since I was a little girl.

I remember it so vividly now. I had broken dad's favorite leather watch from Sweden- original make- he had always emphasized in a some-what warning voice.
I recall how he swung his thick buckled leather belt in the air. Held so tightly in his left hand. He bellowed to me from the living room and I could hear his thunder ring echo strongly through the corridor.
I twisted my middle finger knowingly behind my back as I walked towards him...

Naturally, I swallowed hard and I sunk inside. The torment I carry in my heart is so unforgivable yet I know too well that forbidden fruits taste sweetest.
Guilt settles heavily in my stomach and anxiety washes mockingly over me.
I can't dare look into mother's eyes.
Voices of condemnation slowly begin to fade into the background.
The look in Madam Fatumah's eyes are reminiscent of a turmoil of emotions. There is a slight glint of disgust and yet so much nostalgia.
Her mouth folds begrudgingly in a mute frown. Her gaze is far away and speaks volumes of heavy dilemma.

Looking around, I realize that no one is here. Not physically. Not at all.
Mother's face is covered by her "judgemental" sun glasses but I can see the heavy weight of pain and anger by the creases at the corner of her mouth and her heavy breaths.
She looks at her heavily glittery pink watch over and over again and then away as if looking or waiting for someone.
She never looks at me however. Not for a second.

I wonder who is coming this time, "father or grandmother?"

Crooked fence

My stomach clenched painfully as I struggled to breathe.

Short quick breaths escaped my mouth in an excruciating manner. I struggled to master my most calm emotions but my imagination could not let me.

 My mind was screaming, my body was slowly losing balance and I couldn’t escape this reality.

Heavy guilty emotions lashed my face agonizingly as I fought to keep in tears.

I was brought up not to cry in public. It didn’t matter what happened and how huge it was I just couldn’t. No one was allowed to see me drowning, falling and breathing my last breath. I was a luo woman and nothing shook us.

I sniffed in all my emotions steadily but dear God, it stung. My lungs were collapsing on me and for the first time I felt sick to my stomach.

I managed to lift my head up and smiled as people flocked up to me to congratulate me upon my achievements. My smile hurt and my knees threatened to throw me off balance.

Everyone left the room except me. I tried to move but I just couldn’t. My heart felt like a gigantic lethal creature had stung it so hard that I only had a few hours left to live.

It was just two days after I had felt the thick weight of betrayal. The words had been spoken slowly yet loud enough to pierce through my heart like a venomous arrow.

I laughed awkwardly and I gulped as I pushed my hair back. I couldn’t feel a thing left on my head. Was I balding?

Only a few hours left till the day ended. I’d finally fall back on my bed and release. I needed to let it out. My eyes hurt from many a tear held back.

I finally gathered up the courage I could, walked out and sped off as I heard people whisper. I couldn’t join. If asked how I was I could have melted down like ice cubes on coal.

I reached home and locked myself up in my room. I tried to force out my liquid emotions but my body couldn’t let me. I begged for mercy, for release. For anything that could take the pain away.

I closed the door firmly and loudly behind me. Finally, I felt a lukewarm substance run down my face. I could finally close my eyes. I could now breathe!

I automatically walked to the mirror and picked up my scissors. I began to snip away at my strands. If it was going, it had to go drastically.

I watched as feathery elements dropped off my dome. It was time to start a new chapter. I couldn’t be my full self if I didn’t let go of old broken things that could no longer be fixed.

I looked at my completely bare head. I was now exposed to the world. No going back. This was a symbol that things would never go back to how they were.

House of thorns

(Another Thorny Crown 5 (2011))

Rebellious armies of tiny tightly coiled frizz threatened my territory. My slicked back security blanket was dripping of thread and flakey police warning me that my scalp was slowly becoming a breeding place for lint and the unwanted kinky assembly.

I squinted my eyes to make sure I still had at least an inch of my hairline left.  I pulled back the weave to expose an oasis- like- mirage.

I gasped inwardly at how my natural hair threatened to embarrass me underneath this perfect facade of straight weave right from the deep rural parts of Brazil or the poor bald temple women of India fully dedicated to their gods.

My hate-love relationship with the skillfully spun dead horse tail was something worth living for.

That straight identity card was what had helped me over the years hide my African shame of bush!

That mess was no way in hell going to rare its ugly head out of this perfectly stretched Asian mane.

I grabbed the tub filled with the anti-African concoction and crunched it grudgingly into my hair.

Very fragile strands that felt like feathers left on a plucked chicken wept for the millionth time but I was determined to hide this wooly lump.

Twenty minutes of the foul smelling emulsion and my scalp was a 400 degree oven. Hot and furious, burning and tingling like little pieces of fat dripping from muchomo on a hot sigiri.

I ran to the bathroom half panicked half ecstatic to wash the creamy devil out.  I watched it rinse out with a whole chunk of my hair.

I gasped in horror, knowing that the price of beauty was pain and baldness if you were born with kaweke.

A girl with kaweke had to make peace with God and her mother for cursing her with the obscenity of heavily curled hair that would not grow, was dry as a dessert and most importantly threatened to expose your Africa to the world.

My hair had generally been in the “bad category” since I started ‘consciously’ growing it out so why was I at all surprised at the act of my hair melting away like hot lava.

My hair was all straight now but the big patches echoed consequences of inferiority complex.  

However, I told myself all was “right” now. My army of angry bush power had been quenched heavily with the almighty black hair savior- the relaxer.

Everything was now orthodox to match my Asian helmet tightly clung to my scalp so fitted I couldn’t breathe.

For a second in my pain, I spat inwardly at the agony my scalp had to endure just to look like a cat bathed in the heavy rains.

I blamed my hair stylist, my mother and the Great Lord Almighty for the infamous curse that had been bestowed upon me and many a black brethren.

That curse my people was the curse of ‘stunted, nappy, breaking negro hair’.