In a Mirror

There's this thing about words

No, not just any words but

Poetry.

In a flash, like paying with cash

The form, shock and walk of life

Are portrayed with precision like incriminating geometry

And if err the style be, still emotion's passed with utmost symettry

To he who chooses to dwell in the shadows of a poetry.

Video seldom says it all, get me a photo till fall

Like a painter's caressing of the canvas-

Which speaks with subtleness of the seductiveness of his nude,

Poetry says in a way

What the story leaves out of the way.

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nu-raphael study by Andantonius

6 hours to God

18:11, a bird flies gracefully before me

As Victoria sings a turbulent water song,

Crushing off those stale worries from earlier today.

There's a cool air blowing all about me

And I can't blame myself for wanting to feel 

Every second, every last hour of my 27th year alive.

The words creep from my mind cautiously-

I consider myself in that boat closer to the horizon

Whose pilgrimage across the vast depths

Begs my celebration, but the lone fisher upon it

Dares not accommodate thoughts of rapture, 

Because a journey halfway, is a best friend to to the sadist biography.

Growing pains and regrets of wisdom gains abound-

The many excuses I can no longer post, or the nasty wishes I can't discuss,

Replaced by suppressed desires of youthful fires unspent

And a soul grown in age, but still young at heart.

The sun should not set on a dream though;

I've lived a full and undefiled vanity thus far.

And if I could attempt to count the drops of happiness,

That have kept my appetite for life wet thus far,

The lake before me might be a contending start, but probably

not sufficient in the matter of the many naughts required.

KRS-ONE

Knowledge Reigns Supreme
Over Nearly Everyone
~

GOD

Cosmic Remedy!

I've not heard the punchline yet
So I move forward, in circles nevertheless
Persisting in my conviction of a purpose
Which might slip past our unfeeling deity,
Who it's said is ever at rest!

Ritual

They don't blaspheme-
Seeking to effect without cause?
Lol No! The maggot, feasting on decay, needs will and energy-
It's the Great Design.

The otherwise distant, is made nigh
The uncertain is elaborately cloaked
And an illusion projected, does manifest!

It's that inner, interminable yet bounded energy
Pouring forth into lodes exposed by treading upon that unbeaten road,
By will trained and shaped as by the dead B.F Skinner
That moulds mere potential, into the acts of gods.
Behold! There's this energy, which only ritual
Knows how to bring forth.


------------
I can't help but acknowledge the impact ritual can have [on me], sometimes, it's a disconcerting state of uncertainty, 
other times, the answer is too heavy to bear!

amazing concept art by the amazing Shairin

Upon a Rock

I walked behind them, 
     Wanting to
            Tap into
                A bit of what wisdom they carried with them.

Strangers in my motherland,
Looking at
     Every Rock,
     Every exposed Earth!
Well, through their strange metallic EyEs, razor
Sharp precision exuding from behind them.

Then I was either illumined or totally dumbed when
One of the younger ones, trained the attention of his peers upon
One particular
     Facet
Of an elaborately weathered rock up 
On a hill, directly before us.

In a voice CloakeD in LEAD-heavy certainty, he spoke thus:
     The Africans,
     Wanted information
     To remain free!
I never slept again.

seers to come

They, diviners of tomorrow

They who shall oversee the singularities

  Having cataloged every cat, alive 

  With galeanthropic algorithms and bald-headed

  Doctors playing ailuromancy in hexadecimal

They who shall live in the spiritual realm-

Of abstract thought and statistical parapraxis

  At once seeing the big picture, while the plebs

  Dwell on particulars and screaming infographics

  Them, engineers of the new alchemy.

Who shall doctor elixirs of life, make miracles of nature, 

Own laws, transcribing will into encoded sigils-

  Great Works manifested via post-silicon gates.

---------------------

Numbers have been here before, and they shall be with us till our fall.

You make the statistic, or become a part of someone else's.

Amazing conceptual art by lien.

A decaying whisper

There are omens we wish to control
Others we only pray to
And then some, like this one
That we can only dare contemplate in such
accidents of ink and paper.

a later hour

He never anticipates it, not
openly - that would compromise his true will.
On a day worked harder than most,
he calmly awaits, as a cold
web unwraps a benign voyeurism at that unkind hour-
the hand drops, the spirit rises.

rock

innocence

rebellion

teenage

wishing

school

noise

naive

ego

sex

aged

pride

streets

willing

identity

embrace

parenting

The Principles of Speed

When a living man speeds up
He tends to death.

When a dead man speeds up
He tends to life.

A mountain at rest
Tends to god.

Of Travels & Fading Gold

Anticipation bears travel

Such wisdom I've learnt,

while counting and smiling at each new passing sight.

As with any dead journey long buried with my hair

I'd count every tree, celebrate each new sign.

I'd slip off and dose, or hit a thing with my nose

And I'd finally let go, as mine eyes started to float.

"Deluded as a bird whose prey can not fly,

Surely much you've now lost by not climbing that trunk!"

I've stuffed my black pillow with the words of a gone hunter,

And every night before drifting, hear that "gold is in going".

I hate eternal slopes, and the fading of hope!

With many an aging climax, lurking behind each new crest.

Debilitating, exacting and expecting a sore brow

Are the ticking and turning as I slowly tread home.

When it's stories of fruit not the fruit that I hold

Conveying mine belly for a pregnancy unsought

It's more heavy, more sweat and very often no talk

When after journeying and reaping you carry home your own load.

------------

the amazing visual moment captured by SubterfugeMalaises

The Dark Pinelence

Pines, pines, and there were more pines!

Them capitalist hoes, scraping life omg!

Tall pines, scattered pines, them suffocating pines

Every once in mine blink I see a forest that's not one!

Such strange auditory walks experienced by mine ears-

It must be purely suicidal, for a forest to be that silent;

No birds, no pests, all diversity is at rest!

Woe to these enslaved bushes and unfortunate shrubs

To dwell beneath them towering, cursed arms of these pines!

------------

While travelling across the country, to and from Masindi, I have noticed how growing pine trees (instead of fruit trees or crops) has become more widespread - possibly due to capitalist tendencies & short-sightedness indoctrinated into the locals. It's sad.

Your motivations for growing pine trees might vary, but here's one quote concerning pines:

Needle-bearing trees tend to contribute to a more acidic pH in the garden, which means that you may struggle to grow a lot of flowers, fruits, and vegetables near the tree. When you plant a pine tree, it is important to remember that pine trees can reduce the growth of nearby plants. Pine trees create toxins that prevent other plants from growing. Pine trees contribute acids, quercetin, and tannins to the soil, and these toxins stop other plants from growing under the tree. Acidic soil conditions can be improved using lime. 

So beware!

------------

the lovely art if from AdMalamCrucem

Upon Solid Hill

I would definitely love to build my house upon a rock!

Towering above valleys, dense green and the horizon.

I would love to spend days above the realm of mosquitos!

I would torture a talking drum, catch the young and old sun

I'd trap flying ghosts and share breathe with fleeting birds!

There are things I thought of while we drove past some hill

And one thing was for sure - I'd love to build upon that hill.

----------

this is definitely not a Masindi hill :-)

this amazing shot was captured by Mec717, in a place I don't know but I'd definitely love!

Adyeri Night!

Remember to party, 

Oh party to remember!

Saturnight, low lights and siblings soo tight!

It must've been yesternight when the night was so bright!

A crew so merry we'd be mistaken for illegal teens

we abandoned all tweets and convened like viva amigos!

Just me, crazy niece, rowdy cousins and their ribs

the night got blessed by young song and spilt gins.

3 warmed the car's boot

3 shook the back seat and with 3 more naughty heads we wheeled away all the night's loot!

Insanely routing a mazda across town

it was us, the moon, and more dust for the outskirts.

We arrived at our venue, a one place called D'venue

with two rides and much pride, we alighted like skinned turkeys! 

Posthumous apologies to them who slept that whole night

'cause we wrecked such raw havoc, a dream turned nightmare!

For each bottle that we turned, calm was slowly unturned

and for the clergy among us there were clear revelations to count!

We had games to be played, many ways to call names

with shaky shots of hard liquor rotating across names.

We laughed like little hyenas wishing before vaginas

dancing and falling and running and some farting!

We celebrated our aged granny, 80 years of filled granaries

for whom we'd come together across thick and thin weather.

And so lens shone bright for memories we'd hold high

as we retired to sleep tight, 'cause next day we'd pray right.

----------
insanely awesome art courtesy of phristopher

Goodbye

And so we parted, with a few cheerio kisses

She didn't want to cry, so she cut her walk short

And only did wave as the bus cried goodbye.

chwezi prega-ma.g.ick

mother is catholic

devout, with fear of maria

mother is chwezi

an elite of the herb

with remnant recipes

of high chwezi mysteries

with which i was bathed

as she enchanted me with song

as i suckled her breast

in a herb in a herb

a green green herb

is a verb is a verb

a clean clean verb

with a power with a power

a deep deep power

am a god am a god

a real real god

promptly attend prenatal

so the system stays blind

they will pray in the churches and sing white hymns

but there's a truth in the hearts of all mothers black

the will to evolve their sons in might

never speaking to an ear of the craft as a craft

as each expectant girl, fortunate to meet her seers

gets her motherly initiation

every morning every morning

performing rit.u.als of her forest

with the most blessed herbs

that evolve the true spirit across generations

to forever grow close to the likeness of Ruhanga

the true true Ruhanga.

---------------

the lovely natural shot by Nature-16

the eyes between

it is raw
it is bestowed
it is wild
it is natural
it is wet
it is true
it lies between,
and for man, it really is the only truth.

the occult in code