Poetry with well-heeled essence.

Power Crisis, Sunday Evening, The house is a tiny passage in the depths of a mountain at night, No one is having their phone we just relocated to fourteen twenty eight, It’s Africa we don’t know about a torch light. Oh yes there is a power cut at home. Everyone is busy bothering about their business. Trying to be alive and abide by the bearings, No, it’s just not working out. Seeing that it’s dark as the mind of a thief who is about to snatch a pretty lady’s  handbag in town. I move prudently lest I spill the soup and scatter the supper cause I’m serving. All of a sudden, I became naive and my mind is pampered with kid stuff, They challenge me just as how the Israelite's were challenged with Goliath the Buff, I dig into the past and extract my cousin reel off on the witch who covers herself in the pot’s. I realize that I’m having some pot’s on my tray, so I pose, I begin to wonder in what pot the witch might be poking her nose, Abruptly,

I see our chat head drop as water would sink in sand, I try to squeeze it out but it only gets my hands damp. I keep upbeat just as a seed would give in all and dive in the damp grounds hoping for growth. For I see our chat head sprouting all the way to the peak when I hit up with a “hey there!” I’m still suspicious and skeptic though on the significance of the sprouting. For my “hey there!” sends a single tick but it’s about us to produce it’s significant other “√√” And so it’s a train on a single rail as a trail it’s surely going to stumble, I see it roll down into the deep valleys and I can’t do nothing. The constructor comes in just as group alerts. And the waste is dumped to the apex, How do I pull it up I’m only a boy with no proper muscle, I call in to customer care for assistance just to tell me that number is off. Wait what? I call in again and still get the same response. It tears apart my blue heart. Like UB40 I take in Red wine thinking you woul

I have been to a point of Zero Life, At a certain conference conversing with the creator, there was I. Neither on earth nor the after-world, but we floated on some space. With no breath cause inhaling had no meaning but still floated comfortably, Yes I have had Zero life. My feet had turned into some smoky figure with shape as a mermaid tail, I could not feel it though, but it kept me floating in the air as a rocket. But this rocket was not rumbling or roaring rather rested calmly. So in this conference called for by the creator, He told me my time has been exhausted. Like a tale on it’s climax my get-up-and-go activity was to be concluded. Would I have played dumb dumb, Like I had been eluded? No, it was all cleared. For a moment I had became a seer, I saw myself kick the bucket, Oh yes I expired. It was hot as a dry day in the desert. Mama was in black veil, black wrapper but never felt the heat. I saw her heating up as the poor threads of a shir

How do I make buddies with the wind? My yell is not vigorous, I can hardly convey my intention. I’m having a question of doubt if you could react instantly when I come to you. But I definitely know that your mother will move you. And that’s true. Somehow I feel like I’m transparent, I know that you know me, But do you ever identify what’s in me. If only the wind could blow in your mom’s ear my message, I know that Mama's are superb in empathizing, And that would give me hope! Hope that someone, somewhere out there is conveying my intention on my behalf. I know that Mama's are superb in empathizing , And that would give me an optimistic approach to this situation, For I know that chances are that you’ll listen to your Mama, You wouldn’t be disobedient, would you? Cause I know for a fact that obedience is listed on your key principles, Yes I know, I know just as the way a monitor would preview whatever the CCTV captures, I know that I know

They say one who sings prays twice, well I have been lamenting and I don’t think the guy upstairs has ever gotten me. If only I was there, During the period of 27 - 33 Anno Domini, I could have seen my Savior teach, preach, and bleach human ignorance. If only I was there When John testified concerning the light, I could have taken share and might have been a star in the night, That would have been light enough for everyone to heed this clew of worms stretching out and grabbing my hair as a mountain climber who just stumbled, So they hold onto a cliff lest they fall to the ground, But they rather let me fall prey to exploitation. If only I had the privilege of hearing John say, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world,”   Perhaps the Lamb could have been a crane to lift these heavy weaknesses off my shoulders, For I can hardly bear them, They buffet me and I’m getting to lose my figure as a child. If only I was there to see

I sat in my room late evening, breaking the day, I’m an insomniac, I hardy sleep moreover I had a short day, So I get connected to have a chat with bae. But bae bothers not to make out my manner, I’ve been shaped into an Israelite waiting on Manna, But manna hardly falls on media. Meanwhile, There is this other friend I haven’t spoken to, They’ve been there 24/7. They’ve been there offline and online, They’ve been there print and electronic, They’ve been there at a charge and on free basics. And are still here, I don’t need no eye catch.. But how like a frozen dessert, I leave them in the cold for the main meal. And from the main meal my desires are filled, am all good. I don’t need no dessert. Yet they still say come, They put cards on table on how like a peach tree I’ll bear fruit. I penetrate, posses and perceive the picture. But discernment is a thorn in my side, Just a thought of it puts a Bugatti veyron engine on my shoulders

My Teenage Life At thirteen I mocked a friend after class, The next thing I saw was a fist land between my eyes like a swinging Bob suspended to a pendulum with force as a car engine... Then I realized humanity will not always have familiar feelings in the face of the earth... Again At thirteen, On my way to fourteen, I got admission to a junior secondary school as a fresh teen. I was given some pants which I feel I would resize even if I were forty two, and I wasn't having no belt. I held them tight the way my two year old nephew would hold his coin. Finally after sitting like an eight months pregnant woman who has just found comfort, I went on feet with baggy arms. The next thing I saw was the girl standing close by hold her hand to her mouth like she's  seen the Hindus light there fire on a Diwali, Then I felt the breeze hoover round my legs. Am a food freak after class, but that day I first fetched my belt and had it on my school pants for the n

Just what is the difference between a call and feelings, Is this from God, whose voice is it? From where does the “supreme voice” come from? Am I going to keep on clucking over direction? This day I get this feeling tomorrow the other. Who puts this in me? Heart, feelings, mind, conscience, just what is it? Laws, logic, Love who do I trust? Surely I don’t wanna miss out in life, But will I still find my truest joy. Do I get to live a life of regretting? Am I supposed to overcome, or do I trust and obey. But how do I know which is which. All in all, nothing is evil. Am I going to be labelled a Label? Do I get mockery? Or respect? Am now getting to lose the idea picture of myself. Are these questions helping or delaying? Is there even a need to rush? When one day my body ll be dinner for the guys down there. Can I make a heaven for myself now, or I prepare for it. Is the offer even there? Perhaps I only get a choice of preparing. But do I get to prepare on my own?

My heart told me to stop, We were two magnets of the same pole facing each other. I guess you know what happened, if you've been in a physics class. My conscience gave a piercing cry in a frenzied way... I played crackpot, Every day, every moment, the teeny voice called in, I took my volcano headsets and played rambunctious melody…. Oops…  the red button has been hit, so sorry teeny. Teeny calls in again, ding dong! Then I bounce like a ping pong, Feeling strong, Nothing wrong, And conduct went on like a song. Finally Failure Falls in Like a pedestrian I see a dodge power wagon an inch away in the middle of the road I looked at it the way a mole in a mole hill looks at an elephant’ foot I try to jump up just to notice am trying to overcome mount Everest Can my conscience clue in now that am willing to communicate…. Damn… it requires restoration by reason I ruined it. Thank you, Rabson KangwaMavura.