Heart for hire.

So love's not a game for two anymore,
And where the mind strays so does the heart prevail,
If all was in vain,
From the kisses, the texts to the walks in the rain,
Look into my eyes and let me know it's worth the pain.

My father once told me,
'son a woman ain't meant to be loved '
I thought twas just the good old grace,
Now I realise that two is just a number,
Very divisible,too bad if the one can't carry on.

Again I'm on display,
But this time it's a different kind of emotion,
Not to love, not to care,
Mine's just a heart for hire.

21 Questions.

Why? What? When? Where? Who? How?
These ran perfectly in her mind as the facade had to run off. Beautiful shades of scarlet. Almost blinding, well life has never been easy, never was, never will be. Seems like this had become a rhythm of some sort too bad she didn't have her dancing shoes.

There were voices in her head. some saying Yes others screaming quite the opposite. making a choice isn't something she was accustomed to. Sometimes it felt really bad, it drove her crazy mad. you know the kind of crazy that makes one feel the urge to meet God. Like would it be easier to pull the trigger, or stab her belly numb. Oh! How about the razor cuts. Well she had contemplated many, but of the twenty one options she had tried fifteen and they were all dead ends.

They called her Princess. Her beautiful smile and perfect frames of womanhood made all the girls jealous, Just a minute, behind the closed doors, who was princess? An embodiment of beauty, scarred with mental distress and emotional pain. What's the point of happiness when all she had were fake smiles?

well loneliness does kill, good thing this time she actually had the guts to pull the trigger. Damn the scarlet. 21 questions were finally quietly silenced. 

Scarred Petals..

So what's beauty without life?
Stale memories void of joy,
Just what's that feeling of emptiness?
That hole in our hearts that doesn't cease to deepen?

We don't say goodbye to tattooed memories,
To love unending,
To  a life well lived,
To an angel stuck in between.

The beauty of being human is that we all hurt,
So I'm here trying to fit in the black patterns,
Soothing snorts to hide the pain,
A perfect mass of dumb hurt.

Ma,
Unbreak my heart, uncry my tears,
Make this pain cease and the hurt halt,
If I had a wish,
I'd give you a thousand lives,
A perfect dose of happiness
And all the health in the world.
But I'll give you roses,
Because that's all you can take now.

They say you don't know what you've got till it's gone,
Sure lacking has made me understand what it meant to have,
So as I watch the rain drip on your grave,
I believe memories don't fade,
And love, love is a gift you so much gave.

Till we meet again,
I believe there's more to all this,
Than just the scattered scarred petals.


For Alphonsina. RIP.
#chroniclesofadeadpoet

Perfect Love..

Hold up..this isn't about the crazy overrated fairytales of perfectly manicured princesses and proper gentlemen. No, this isn't about chocolate and flowers or of girls who can cook, clean and still do you good. Nop this is about love.

For months I wore make up and paid extra attention to how I walk and dress with hope that Mr.  Right would bump into me.  Obviously I didn't want to ruin the first expression moment.  Well, as life turns out to be awfully unfair I met him all rained on, shivering like a lost duckling,  sticky clothes and miserable ( it was totally awful) hair. Trust me it didn't end there.

Anyways just what is perfect love? Love without flaws without blemish. You know the kind of Boris and Nicole kinda couple. Ladies, snap out of this! For goodness sake those Mexican soap operas are just hopeless plots! Trust me if you're waiting on your poor man to buy you flowers, serenade you every five minutes, remember just how you like your coffee blah blah blah sister Jesus is coming soon, He's the man for you!
Okay, I'm not saying that you should accept a sissy as a man. No. Just let your man be a man. Honey, there's no perfect love. Love is the perfect weaving of two imperfect people who perfectly know each other's flawlessness and still see them as perfectly beautiful 😊  You can read that again ma'am.

You see, at the start of many relationships we tend to be blinded by so many things that we actually assume our partner's shortcomings. As the relationship grows deeper the flaws becomes all over sudden magnified. Like thoroughly zoomed out. Now here's where the real test of love sets in. Sweetie he was all funny and cute till you realise he actually has smelly feet you can't just assume anymore. Or hey she was this sex goddess and now she can't even wash her own face.

Then it reaches a point where you get to realise whether you were in love, obsessed, infatuated or plainly lustful. They all kinda wear off. And when you truly love someone you just don't dash out the door because suddenly you realised they ain't as good as you thought they were. You embrace them..darling I'm not saying you go suck those smelly toes..ahah I'd rather die😉  what I mean is you help that person get over it. Like hey hun why not get home remedies for smelly feet. Change your sock brand. Something like that.

I'd like to sugar coat this but perfect love does NOT exist. Oh please we all know unless he's in diapers; you can't change a man. But who wants a change man when we can just create a better version of him??? So dear sisters quit looking for the perfect guy! ( Unless it's the movie of course!) Before you let anyone love you, love yourself. Only then will you realise how much of a kinky bi*** you are to handle. It's 10 times worse for your man.

Don't forget, love is imperfect, full of flaws. We all know a happy woman is either bisexual or cheating. We'll whine and do all that because we love you! Look into your partner's eyes and forget the damn smelly feet for Christ's sake! It's your life..your relationship..your man. Make him YOURS!

As my nigga John legend sung ' love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections '

So sweethearts just as he ain't perfect, you ain't too. Sit down and love that gracious mess that's your man. It's worth every bit.😊

Between our love..

Tell me love,
Between you and I,
Between these two racing hearts,
Between the long stares and tattooed memories,
What lies between our love?

We cried and laughed,a little giggle in between,
We fought and made up,
We scream yet whisper love quotes,
But in between,lies just us,
Between our love,
There's you and I.

When the world stops spinning,
And hearts stop beating,
When I can't touch you anymore,
And you can't feel the joy in my laughter,
Don't ever forget one thing,
Between our love,
We lay still.

Untouched,unreachable even dead,
I'll try to remember your smile,
And hope you'll do mine,
Because between our love,
I feel nothing,
I see nothing,
I am nothing.

Between our love is there hope for a future?
Do you trust me enough to let me see,
Is there truth?
I want to know beyond us,
What lies between us,
Between our love,
Is there love?

For my Mulaimu.
#chroniclesofadeadpoet.

Red dotted pain.

While the pastor promised of all my scarlets kinda bleached to white,
You constantly turn my sheets deathly red,
Well all that's crimson ain't a sin,
But with you I can murder to halt the pain.

If I could erase your memory,
I'd make you skip the monthly scare,
And totally forget you were here,
And if only you were human,
I'd let the devil take your breathe away.

One plus one may equal two,
But with you around we'll just remain as odd,
As I toss and turn all night,
Curse and bless you I just might,
As they say; the beauty of a butterfly,
Is in it's freedom.

I try to embrace the beauty in you Red dotted pain,
The edge in my womanhood terrain.

 

Loner Diaries.

The patterns  on the sand,
May have been blown away.
The photos in twos,
All choked up in flames.
But tell me,
How do I make these emotions fade too?

Once upon a time,
There was you and I,
But the letters in between got their better share,
 I stagger home all alone,
Holding on to the bitter sweet memories,
Of a different tale when you were here.
All shadows tow in twos,
While mine reluctantly thrives in solitude,
The echoes still fresh in my mind,
Same voice,same girl,
I hope tomorrow brings less sorrow.

My Cinderella ran away,
I was not sober enough to do the chase thing,
But I do hope his cuddle keeps you as warm,
I closed my eyes to the unfortunate vision,
And held on to the glass slipper,
Hoping one day you'll need this shoe,
That once more I'll have you to me.

What's felt and what's seen are unparalleled emotions,
Things were perfect yesterday,
But they all lace the nightmare I have to live today.

I hope God made another to love me,
And I hope it won't hurt too.

the long texts ,IMs, emails.
 The dates, long night sexy calls....
 Flirty hours ,
 amazing smiles...
 they say new love is strong,
 but will It last for long???
 I have no idea love depreciates..
 or how we just lose it..
 things that used to matter, don't matter no more.
 sweetheart ,honey, darling..
 no longer appropriate ..
 more fights..
 lots of make up sex..
 but we both know. we're losing it. ..
 late night texts
 late night drinking sprees..
 Flirty hours,
 cheating spouses.
 holding On to the past when the present doesn't exist..
 the future a mirage!
 love turn sour...
 amazing smiles,
 teary lonely nights...
 betrayed trust.
 lost love.
 should we walk away?
 should we give it one last shot?
 can we learn to love again????

No honey, not tonight.

I saw the texts alright,
And the lipstick stains on your shirt,
The deceiving scent of another woman,
Not forgetting the lodging receipt,
The smirk on your face expecting a cuddle?
No honey, not tonight.

I have a whole lot on my desk,
The project's due tomorrow noon,
My boss needs this report ASAP,
Baby, you know I have to put food on the table,
You have to understand,
No honey, not tonight.

It's that time of the month,
I feel crappy inside out,
Don't touch me,
Don't kiss me,
Don't even think about it.
No honey, not tonight.

I have my finals in a week,
You know how bad I need this,
Love, I'll make it up to you the week after,
It's for our future,
No honey, not tonight.

No honey,
You are going to turn right back,
Because tonight is my night,
Halt all your excuses please,
And get my conjugal rights RIGHT!

Please love me..

I looked into the mirror,
Stared right through the scars,
Both the seen and unseen,
Once more the memories flood,
Each time it hurt,
Each time I pleaded.
I love you, you know.
Please teach me not to hurt,
Show me how not to cry,
Caress my pains just a little,
And tell me tales of love,
Love's that pure and content.
The more I stare,the less I see,
Less of me and more of you,
The ghost behind me, inside me,all over me, actually me.
The one thing I can't flee from,
Yearning for your embrace only results in the sting of your slap,
But I love you.
I had chances to scream,
To run and hide,
But every time it went in me,
I could only scream ' I love you '
With every stab I could only plead ' please love me'.
In a hundred realities,
And a thousand fantasies,
I'd find you and I'd choose you,
I know it's a suicide mission,
But I do hope, just like Jesus,
Mine will free love from thee.
Mirror on the wall,
Am I the fairest of his all?
Each time I felt pain,
Each time I cried,
I let you abuse me because I love you.
Please, please love me back.
I love you.

Lucia

The stars in her eyes,
Or is it the little pretty dimple by her smile,
So in love was she,
Swaying down the road,
Singing love melodies.
Of him and her,
Though hearts so far,
He said he couldn't stay
That he had to go far far away.
But no! Love doesn't know distance,
Because no miles can kill romance,
All alone in the woods,
With no one to eat her delicious foods.
Little pretty Lucia,the lonely bride,
Loneliness that would never overcome her pride,
She did wed in shame,
To a lad without a name.
The say love is blind,
But in it she found sight,
For she believed in Lucas,
The man behind her emotional fracas.

Your love.

Even when days were too grey,
And happiness was just a word,
When hope left such a void in my being,
Your love found me.
Times when anger and pretense filled me,
When nothing made sense,
The voice in my head constantly threatening,
Your love held me.
In the darkest paths,
In the strangest way,
One emotion drew images of brighter days,
Your love taught me how to,when to and why  to.
Lost in a maze,
It lit my way back,
Dug me out of hopelessness' pit,
With a thousand reasons not to fight,
Just one taught me what was right,
When doubt rose within me,
It drew out reason.
Love, you so freely gave to me.

Virginia the Virgin

There came a time,
In the land of whores and woes,
The need of a warrior,
Soldier of some sort arose,
And she was born,
Virginia the Virgin!
To be the very epitome of beauty and purity,
She had to be the one,
Though born under conditions not so legitimate,
Without a surname,
Virginia just had to be the ultimate hero.
No matter how many corners there are in life,
The planet isn't square neither rectangular,
And as fate and destiny always have their way,
Virginia the virgin
Became human

Kill me quick

' KILL ME QUICK '

There might be a thousand ways to die,
and only one way to live,
For some it's just a confusion in between,
But for one Mr. Ken,
There was always the 'Kill me quick ' option.

In a rugged hut,
The filthiest of all places in the town,
He walks in with a full wallet
And leaves empty of his earthly sorrows.

Kill me quick,
Kill me happy,
Kill me swift,
Kill me now,
Drunken chats he'd mutter,
After a pints that were never odd in number,
( there's always that +1)
He saw heaven much more nearer.

It didn't matter whether it was Monday or Sunday,
After all they were just days,
Man must live or die..
Ken survived half the times.

Then came Friday then 13th,
Let's just say Cliché became niche,
On the worn out stool,
Just like that,
Kill me quick,
Actually killed in a flash.

Bloody pains

Scarlet Confessions

I did it Father,
One,two, three all the way to sixteen,
For all the affairs he may too clear,
Every time the blood splashed, I sighed with relief.
Knife in, knife out 
Bernadette, Suzzie, Jane even that filthy Mercy.
With every stab I made it clear who the bitch was,
It felt so good Father.
The pains I had endured for so long finally were released.
I had worn white specifically for this event,
I actually termed it '16 stabs of Pain'
Father, you preach about love and forgiveness
If you were in my shoe you'd understand.

He pleaded for mercy,
But all I could remember was the pain
I didn't want to feel anything
So I ceased being human for sixteen stabs
I hope he forgives me too.

I'm not really convinced I slayed him,
But I taste his blood every time I bite my lips,
My hands are scarlet
My blood stained dress hangs perfectly in the closet,
A constant reminder every sixteen seconds.

 

Days i vividly remember..

Ten days a whore.

Days when I felt too vulnerable, too free, too me

Walking down a thousand aisles with a million men

Not giving a damn, not a single care,

Old and young alike; life didn’t allow me to choose.

Staggering abortions and a whole load of meds too,

I cried when I fell and laughed in the rain,

When I slept with the father and tamed the son,

I learnt to give freely, forcefully, lovingly and grudgingly.

The street fights and shameless bargains,

Days when being a whore made me feel more than whole.

Keeping that relationship real...

Keeping it 100%


In darkness we yearn for light. Unknowing that maybe the stars might lead our way. It's basic human nature. We barely know when we are wanted. Take for instance love, marriage and dating. We always think it's greener and better on the other side. It takes pain to remind us not all that glitters is gold.
Love is a beautiful thing..ain't opposing that. But is it really love if it ain't true? Is it love if it can't withstand honesty? I believe the very fundamental asset of a relationship is it's ability to root the association in trust.
Trust doesn't mean just the basic " I trust you" line. It's about total acceptance and acceptance of your mate's being. It's not just liking the outside but totally falling in love with the inside. Knowing their weakness yet trusting them enough to handle your own. I do believe trust is love. Without trust it's mediocre acquitting.
The other very important thing is respect. Just for the record respect is a two way thing.    Both parties should be familiar with their partner's weaknesses, their boundaries and comfort zones. Respect is knowing this will or won't make her happy. Knowing to bae Friday nights are movie nights so probably I should reschedule the girls night out.  If one doesn't respect the other in a relationship it brings about the feelings of depression, self pity and in extreme situations low self esteem.it is mandatory to respect each other in a relationship and knowing just how far is too far.
Finally it's all about love. Seriously why would you be in a relationship to start with? Love is caring, devoting oneself to another, tender and so on. If a person is in a relationship that doesn't entail love probably it won't last. Love is patient, love is kind. It forgives easily and is slow to anger. Love cares.love bothers. Love insists. Love is the most beautiful thing. Love doesn't hurt. And when a person loves, it's best when they get it right back.

half of whole..

Half a soul.


Half the times we know what's right but opt for the wrong..
Half the times we live through other's eyes and neglect our own..
Half the times we'd rather have it all than share the throne..
Half the times we criticize more than we compliment..
Half the times we tend to lie than face the truth..
Just wondering why live half a soul when God made us whole?

 

My grandmother's Christmas story...

SIKUKUU
(My grandma's story )

The only time of the year we'd eat chapati, rice and meat all at once,
A festive season it was, worth the name ,
Just after the "ebisimba ",the circumcised boys were set free to be men.
They graced their manhood with vigorous dances at the marketplace, adorned with ornaments.

Well it was that time of the year,
When my father would walk in from the white man's house,
Dangling some goodies..
We would all run to him,
Chanting "thatha Ochire beka ethwani nse "
Father is home, slaughter a cock.

Amazing beautiful time it was,
On the specific sacred bright Morning,
We would all go down to the river and have the scrub of our lives,
Get back home and smear some milking jelly,
Shine like a thoroughly cleaned sufuria!
We would then all excitedly put on our new clothes,
"Nguo ya sikukuu "
They would range from the well tailored "amasungora "cotton clothes, to the "amachabani "that's for the lucky ones,
Ready made clothes from Japan,
If it was too bad, hand-me-downs we would proudly wear,
Like Who cared? It was Christmas!

Our mothers would get their cornrows neatly done and align us all to church,
Where the village pastor would boom about a God,
A Messiah born on that day,
We would religiously chant hyms
While our minds wandered to our grandmother's hut
Where goodies especially the chapatis, rice and "mandas "
Were being prepared by the special experienced village cook.

After church,
We would all gather and have a proper fulfilling meal,
The women danced,
The men enjoyed their busaa,
There was plenty of milk, water and busaa to go around,
laughter sparkled,
Many goats and chicken were mercilessly brought to death,
Lots of chapatis,
Not forgetting new clothes for everyone!
The Messiah was born!

It was "siku ya furaha "happy day,
The much awaited SIKUKUU,
I remember the joy and homely feeling just like it was yesterday,
Well it's been 60 years,
Some of my grandchildren went to Mombasa forget Christmas,
My children only M-pesa me,
Some will call to wish me a merry Christmas,
They will send images on this thing called whatsapp that my granddaughter has!
Ah! Technology.. after all what is Christmas to them?

I miss the good old days.
When Christmas was Christmas!
Eh! Sikukuu.

my female pains..

BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN.

I tend to think I'm the sperm that won,
But sometimes I'm just the ovum that lost.
I wish I was one in a million, 
But in a million none could choose me.

I wish you could see my beauty beyond my scars,
Or the smile behind my braces,
Sometimes it hurts so much,
I can't even tell it's paining,
Sometimes I cry so much,
I don't realise it's raining,
Because I am a woman.
I bear it all.

I give big smiles at work,
Just to go home to a battering husband,
I feel so alone,
I loose myself,
I give up everything to you, to the world, and end up a beggar.
I get lost, confused,
When there's a big contrast from that rush of the first kiss,
And the agony and sharp pain of the first slap.

How did we get here?
How did I lose you?
When I tell you I love you,
You say you'll find some time to do,
When I say I need you,
You mockingly laugh it off..
You used to be a saint,
More of like everything at the same exact time.
I try to be that woman, that girl,
I wish you could see.

There's more to me than makeup can ever conceal,
Just one word can fix it all,
One gesture can make me whole again.

The razor cuts don't help anymore,
And as I hold this gun to my head,
I remember everything,
Beautifully broken.

freedom right..

LIBERTY CHANT.

If only we could learn not to hide but flaunt our light,
To let it light up the world,
So many times we resent our own with the desire to be like another, 
Just why do you want to Be a copy, a sample when you are the original?
If we could let our inside free,
Let our brightness be,
Because most of the times the little we think we are, is the more we seem to be.

Don't be too shy to believe in yourself,
Or too naive to let others put you down,
It doesn't matter how broken and hurt you are,
Smile because one day you'll get past it.

Freedom is not actually walking unbound,
Freedom is letting the being in you become you.
Yes, you are smart, beautiful intelligent,
Lift the veil and let the whole world see,
Let it shine so bright, relish in the moment,
Because there can only be one only you,
They say you can only live once,
But what is life without a purpose?
Life without a cause?

Live a life you are willing to die for,
Every smile counts,
Don't be too focused on others,
Till you forget the hero within.
The first step is to always trust and hope,
Live the moment and have it for life.

secret stares..

SECRET ADMIRER.

I stand here all day,
Against this pretty pink wall with patches of white,
I watch you as you sleep, 
So perfect, angelic!
I've shared and experienced in all your emotions,
From how excited you were when you got the promotion,
To the terrible break down when you caught him cheating.

I love how you stare at Me, mostly in the mornings,
You always were walk in worried
I always assure you that you truly are beautiful,
I make your day just as you make mine,
Your burning eyes explore me
With some wild desire threatening to tear me apart,
I wish we could speak,
Though we do it, it's pretty much a monologue.

I watch as you wake up every Morning,
The gorgeous smile follows as you move closer,
After the bathroom too close,
I glare at your beautiful naked body,
Sometimes you kiss me,
Sometimes you don't,
What makes me happy is that you're back and faithful to me,
just hoping that someday
When I become just a broken mirror in the trash,
And not on this beautiful wall,
You will still love me.

Because it's true,
You look good even in a broken mirror.

Guilty pleasures,,

CANDY DADDY.

They say life moves too fast,
I replied; for the weak and meek,
Well I take mine at my own pace,
It's more like poker,
He dangles the candy,
And I play the dummy.

You see life ain't fair,
Never was, never will be,
A bastard I am, not that I really care,
But now I dine and wine with the mighty.

I have a thing for big stuff,
Big cars, houses and of course my BIG DADDY.
Y'all know there's more To candy than just taste,
More to money than just haste.
Call me love, call me babe, call me whore.

So what if I miss my classes and some periods too?
He's my candy daddy,
I have it all,
At his Beck and call,
Spoils me with his Money,
And I spoil him with my cookie.

My candy daddy,
Dangles the candy,
And I really don't care.

my dear oluoch..

"SWEET MANGO"

When you see Oluoch,
Please remind him of his sweet mango tree,
Please tell him it's been three years past, 
And not a single night did it pass,
Without the tree yearning for him.

Please remind Oluoch,
That the tree did bear fruit,
And the village women now mock it,
They call it "whore" and other names it tries hard not to hear.

Please remind Oluoch,
That this is not it expected three years ago,
When he ate it's sweet mango,
Please tell him,
It was only with him that the grass was painted red with it's sweetness.

They now tell he's tree,
That it wasn't sown right,
It wasn't watered right,
It wasn't actually his favorite,
That now his tongue can not stand the taste of the sweet mango,
That he is now into the modern city fruits,
Apples, peaches and so on..
That he doesn't enjoy solo fruits anymore but only takes rich fruit salads.

But tell him,
The tree remembers who planted it,
No matter how the seasons are,
It will still be rooted on his land,
The tree still yearns for his tender care,
And it is not right that his fruit,
Be named "bastard " when it is a love child.

Please ask him to remember,
The days he would not move from his sweet mango,
Days when he would tenderly care and sing to it,
When in his garden it was the only tree.

When you see Oluoch,
Please tell him,
The sweet mango still hopes he'll return,
That he will not abandon neither it or it's fruit.
His own words it holds on to,
"Nothing is sweeter than my sweet mango! "

my other side..

STRAY THOUGHTS.

If life was a maze,
Of lilies, roses and all pretty flowers,
Just which species will you be?
I once heard,
"A rose in another name will smell just as sweet"

That if humanity could get humans,
And knowing animosity is just for animals,
Why we're one yet different,
Why love is so close to hate,
And why a heart can bear both.

What makes you, you?
Are you part of the solution or the core of the problem?
If only we could see beyond ourselves,
Beyond our weaknesses,
To realise that even when lost we can actually find who we are.

A heart can be pure of all evils,
That a heart can love yet let go,
Like a young mother giving up a child for adoption,
These are just but my stray thoughts.

African wife..

SOMEONE'S WIFE!

Kwamboka,
My daughter do you want to kill me?
Is sending me to an early grave your intention?
Ei! Do you think I can live past the mockery of my fellow women?
Do you want to be the death of your father?
That we did not raise you well is unbearable!

The whole village knows,
That your house stinks,
Your children are filthy,
Your land remains untilled,
And your new scent is liquor,
Your husband eats from another man's pot!

My daughter,
Did I not teach you,
That a husband should be treated like a king?
That a married woman keeps her things in order?
Why do you ashame me with these strange traits?
Do you enjoy it when I am the village's laughing stock?

Kwamboka,
That you can not cook for your husband is a shame!
That you pay a fellow woman to wash your husband's garments is an abomination!
Ahah! Did he not marry you to be his helper?
Ei! You amaze me my daughter!
Did you ever see this monkey business in your fathers house?

Answer Me Kwamboka!
Did I not teach you the responsibilities that come with being someone's wife?
Don't you know it is a shame, a taboo for a man to see your monthly visitor?
Yet you let her sit anywhere anyhow in your house?

My daughter,
Stop wasting time gossiping in the marketplace,
It is a woman who breaks or makes a home,
Don't you dare raise your voice to your husband again,
A woman is to be seen not heard.
Now Please leave my homestead,
Rise up and make your house a home!
Po! I do not have money to pay back the hefty dowry paid for you!
My daughter it's time you realised you are someone's wife!

‪#‎Chroniclesofadeadpoet‬.

Lustful nights..

LAST NIGHT IN THESE SHEETS.

There was a moan

A battle that was already lost,

She fought for what she thought was hers,

Something he knew he had already conquered,

They could not see eye to eye,

But the body connection they couldn’t deny.

A cry, a groan,

So lustfully pure,

Not much words were said,

But a silly curse here and there,

Pain and pleasure alike,

Both in the very same measure.

You see, if sheets could talk,

These ones had quite a lot to say,

She called out his name in perfect poetic cadence,

And he did not disappoint,

He rose to the occasion,

First tender and gentle,

She gained the experience he gained a little more.

As she cried and choked with emotion,

He pursued her to the gates of earthly heaven,

It all started with a little kiss,

A caress that matured to a rough clutch,

And the rest well ask these sheets.

The beautiful panting graced with lustful moaning,

These sheets did bear a tear or two,

She really didn’t care and he neither was he afraid,

The beauty of nature fully expressed in her precise flawlessness

Where need meets grant, supply does demand.

Last night in these sheets,

The beauty of life came alive!

Together they made a passionate pair,

So beautiful, proficient that it turned the sheets scarlet,

Defying innocence to create fault

For a moment the world ceased

It didn’t really matter whether the love was real.

Last night in these sheets,

Came a moment that she would hold on for life,

But just another one of his daily routine.

Love and lust met in pure disgust.

Future lover...

LOVE AGAIN.

If I could love again,

I want it true, deep and beautiful,

I want a love so rare, yet so real,

Knowing that one person is the antidote to my venom,

Knowing that I will be loved solely for all I am,

My complete silliness, my perfect flaws, my weaknesses,

Yet beyond all that he sees my strength, my beauty

He sees me.

It’s not just the empty tons of air saying “I love you”

Neither is it the crazy spontaneous love making,

I just want to be loved,

A love so precious, something I can actually hold on to,

I do not need flowers every day,

Neither do I covet expensive gifts laced with lust,

I want love,

A love that is not ashamed to show off,

Neither too shy to showcase.

I want to be sure,

That with my broken heart there is hope,

With every sunrise I have a reason to wake up to,

And every night a dream to hold on to,

And every minute a person to look up to,

I need love in my life,

Because it is so beautiful when done right.

I want to smile because he is next to me,

Hug my pillow because he is away.

If I am to love again,

I want the pain of an argument, a misunderstanding,

I am ready for the bad days too,

I want that one person,

Who is perfect in his imperfections,

Complete in his own incompleteness

He who won’t only love me but himself too.

True, there is more to a rose than its thorns,

More to a rainbow than just color,

More to a cheetah than its spots,

More to a bull than just horns

And more to love than its flaws,

I do not want perfect,

If I am to love again I just want it real.

                                                                             

When the urge dies..

DEAD POET.

A poet never dies,

But what am I without my pen and paper?

What am I without the surging emotions of art?

The frustrations that come with a mediocre mind,

Days when I actually wonder,

Am I a poet?

When the heart is willing,

Yet the mind is rebellious,

Yes, I am poetically flawed,

The disappointment of rioting hormones,

I want to be a pastor, rapist, drug addict, a free bird

The redemption of pen and paper.

It’s like trying to enjoy the strumming of a stringless guitar,

And enjoying the tap of silent tunes,

Straining at the very verge of lost poetic sense,

I want to create wordless words,

After all whether dead or alive,

I am a poet.

It’s like having sight but not being able to see,

Or touching but not feeling,

Having the idea but not words,

Pain that doesn’t hurt,

Or rather joy that doesn’t exhilarate,

It frustrates the heart and drains the mind.

A nightmare so real, so intense

The real pains of being a dead poet.

Pen and paper do not fail me,

I seem to always have the right words

But when the mind becomes too mediocre,

Please pen and paper save me,

Relieve me of this shame,

I want to be alive again,

Bring back the glory of great masterpieces,

I need life and hope beyond this.

Please pen and paper,

Hear my plea,

For I am just but a dead poet

Hoping this time when I write,

You will give me life,

Pen and paper, all that I hold on to.

proud murderer...

NECROPHILE’S SENTIMENTS.

A thief comes at night,

While I strike whenever I feel right,

Time isn’t really my measure

I’m coming for your blood, I love it stale,

The pleasure that comes from your fear stricken face,

Yes I am your reality horror.

I love the beauty in your pain.

Why be alive when I can have you dead?

I am your worst nightmare,

While to me you are my dream come true,

My deadly satisfaction,

My heart beats rhythmically to the silence of yours.

I kill,

Not because I want to but because I have to,

You really are attractive when dead,

Don’t get me wrong,

I like you alive but I love you dead,

The bliss of your cold lifeless body,

That is real turn on to me,

The perfection of your motionless love making,

Not a sound, not a move you make,

That gives me all the pleasure I would ever wanted.

Why are you afraid of me?

At the mere mention of my name or rather condition as some scientists’ term it,

You all shiver in disgust,

I walk in the shadows for I fear the light,

Silently preying, the very merchant of death,

Yes, just the thought of your dead body turns me on,

The smell of your blood makes mine boil.

Please do not judge me for we both have this repulsive urges.

I am human, just a little beastly,

Everyone has a different taste right?

I prefer mine lacking of life,

I get so much satisfaction from corpses, bloody corpses.

I did not ask to be this way,

They all say do what makes you happy,

Well you are next on my list.

I will hunt you down.

They call me Earl, the crazy necrophile.