FOUND FILTHY

Preface:

It is very easy to get caught up in the daily routines and forget what it’s like to live a little. I recently had the opportunity to visit Ole Kasasi.

This is partly inspired by everything I took in. But it only crystallised when I sat quietly.

Preface II:

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but with God, everything you behold IS His beauty.

Making my life count for God’s fame and renown…

FOUND FILTHY

He desires a lifestyle that brings nothing but glory to Him,

His name is Elohim,

And I’m just another man,

A son of Adam.

He knows I have nothing to offer,

His renown should be all I’m after.

His fame should be my purpose,

My life His resource.

A light for this generation,

Inadequate and insecure…

That’s an accurate self-description.

Plagued by doubt,

Chasing my tail as if it can tell me what I’m about.

Unsettled by inactivity,

My faith a tiny ray,

Through an even tinier cavity.

Lord, are You there?

And do You hear?

I can’t seem to tune in...

Interference when I listen in...

It’s all static!

In fact it

Feels like I don’t have the frequency.

[Or is it me?]

I rack my brain,

Searching for truths about You.

You don’t expect me to know it all,

For I wouldn’t trust You for it all.

In my emptiness,

This vessel can only be filled by Your fragrance,

Your freshness.

How?

Through time spent with You

A cool hill top breeze.

But why?

[Pause]

And now I get it...

All You ever wanted,

Was time spent with me…

Yes…time spent with me…

…Me?

[eyes water]

I don’t think You get it…

Why me?

... so filthy…

A floor rug that You embrace to Your face.

Do you get it?

SO I THINK I LIKE HER

[When common friends begin to fall for each other, it's what I call "Emotional ballroom dancing". We all play it. I just happened to be the platform for 'their' dance.]

HIM:

I wish I had it all figured out,

I wish I could say that this is the final product

 and thus it is ready to roll out.

But I can’t!

 and right now,

 I realise that that is NO reason not to say it...

I like her.

HER:

I wonder if he has figured out,

That I wonder if he wonders I do,

But if I work real hard I’ll keep it under wraps,

And will neither give myself up,

Nor deposit a clue,

But God knows my heart knows,

I like him.

HIM:

Falling in love is easy,

Attractive eyes,

beautiful smile

and sweet voice.

Staying in love is the hard bit,

Fights,

 misunderstanding,

compromise and preferences.

But, irrespective of the instances...

 I like her.

HER:

Agony is debating,

There’s no pleasure in waiting,

And what if he’s a bastard in the end?

With no assurance,

And no guarantee,

But risking

My whole heart in

For no other reason,

than that I like him.

HIM:

Well she doesn’t know yet,

So no need to tell her,

We’ll call it our little secret.

From heart to pen to paper,
[whispering...]

I really do like her...

HER:

Well he doesn’t know yet,

So no need to expect him,

I’ll store my feelings at the back,

In a bottle and cork the rim,
[whispering...]

I’ll wait for him.

SOLILOQUY AND DOODLING

(Here is the concept... Add a healthy portion of the creative mind to the free flow of words and what do you get? Soliloquy and doodling... Feel free to add your doodle...)

Soliloquy and doodling is writing without the ‘e’ in ‘th_m_,’
But writing out of the stream of thoughts that shines through,
The fogginess of one’s mind like light beams -Neon blue!
Yet it isn’t as random as it seems,
For it will eventually be revealed and seen
To be like a little luxury every day... so fresh and so clean!

Like Bonga points,
Soliloquy and doodling is set to redeem Written Word air time.
For written word is the crop,
But it is the cream;
The rest are hot water,
But it is the steam!
It’s the stuff that gleams,
When one’s mouthpiece is under layers of rusted weeds.
For when life feels stagnant as though put on freeze,
Words pull out their mittens, marvins and skis
And verbally skate over mental ponds, lakes and seas.
So a round of applause please...
As Soliloquy and Doodling takes a bow, crosses his ‘i’s and dots his ‘t’s!!

SPONTANEOUS.

( I should be working hard for my employer, but I wrote this instead...call this a tea-break!!)

Take the opportunity while you can!
That’s the motto for the year!
This isn’t the same as grab, grab, grab all you can,
It’s more like take the chance, get over your fears.
(weak intro)

Life is like cement,
All its potential is stored in bags.
And nothing constructive happens,
til the bag is ripped to bits,
And discarded in the trash.
(better middle)

Imagine you are a prime number…
Nothing can cut you down.
Divisible only by 1 and yourself.
For all opportunity is given by 1 God,
who is King and crowned,
And life lived by 1 “you”…when? ...RIGHT...NOW.
(reflective finish...lemon face)

PS: the largest prime number has over 12 million digits.

INHALE

(Why do the most beautiful girls keep getting caught up in 1 night stands? This is 'her' story. Pause. Think. Inhale...)

Here we go again.
Tragic aint it?
Nothing to show for it,
Nothing to gain from it.
That’s why it’s tragic aint it?
What a useless routine;
How ridiculously obscene;
But here we are... again.

I hear love is a maiden and lust is a mistress,
So guess where I lie in this case.
Never been a damsel in distress,
With or without my short dress,
His only interest,
Is to have me undressed.
I can see it in his eyes;
The bastard has the fire in mine,
mistaken for being impressed.
But I engage him;
For I have surely entertained much less... much quicker,
shukisha stage, okota next... drain deeper.
Wateja wote...Beba, beba

Pain is alcohol soluble,
So we drink to make the exchange bearable.
Drop another bottle,
flush it with a flash sip.
Mouth to liver to head return trip.
Sweet release... what sweet release!
That’s why this liquor here sells.
Numb the brain cells and the firing of senses,
And the pain is replaced by the ringing of happy bells and dances.

Drink up, drink big!
The art of war and the art of seduction are siblings,
Manipulation and strategy is what they begin with.
Screw your mind and then screw you;
Squeeze you dry and then deny you.
Aint that the truth!!
The truest for sure,
For “trust” is a safe that’s the least secure,
For “trust”, like the titanic, was a ship that should have endured,
But didn't!
Instead it capsized and drowned me in sorrow,
Lazy goodbyes and forgotten tomorrows.

So why do I keep up this stupid appearance?
Like I enjoy being here, like I enjoy doing this?
The crap that it is and the ghosts that come with it;
The pleasure that drops faster than an anvil held back by a paper clip!
A rat race without a finish,
a light in the tunnel that continues to diminish,
And all of a sudden, I'm feeling ashamed and mighty skittish,
Gotta leave, gotta be free,
Gotta bounce, gotta go find me,
For somewhere in between,
I lost the plot,
I must have forgot,
Whom I was doing this for.
I must have ignored,
The loving arms and the sweet embrace;
Of smiles like sunshine;
Of laughter so divine;
Of footsteps that thumped like heartbeats,
As my heart beats.

Enough with the life of longing
Gotta leave, gotta be free,
Gotta bounce, gotta go find me.

MY AUTO-BIOGRAPHY!

My wishlist is expensive,
And therefore like Lloyd,
My bank Rolls Royce
For that Bimma, Benz and Bentley!!
Forward thinkers are known to forge for Fords,
But that’s audacious once you’re in an Audi!

The sauti of a Subaru…is sensual...
And still the best to hear!
The Kia is rubbish,
And the VW is rarely refurbished.
And what about the skwirmish?
i.e. Toyota Vitz!
With its fits of imbalance like a drunkard on stilts!

French minds started wilting;
So take the kudos away from the Peugeot!!

In the 22nd century,
Nomads should roam their Ranges in Rovers,
As they herd their cattle,
Especially their Lambos!
With predators like Jaguars,
You would need an Ascari;
Especially one as Astonished as Martin!!
For a friend for the long-haul,
You’d do well to rely on Vauxhaul.
Church pews would be full of the Pagan i.e-Zonda;
Who’d Corvette the legs of the Lexus!!

As the Pastor pushes for greater exPorsche,
The choir of Chevy, Mustang and Honda,
Would lead the congregants in revs and worship.
Something would be miss’n if it wasn’t for Niss’n!!
And we’d all say kwaheri to the disappearing Ferrari.

I THOUGHT OF YOU!

I THOUGHT OF YOU

(I thought crushes were for kids.... let's go back to primo.)

I thought of you today,
As I sat at my desk I must say,
I knew full well I shouldn’t have,
But like forbidden fruit I couldn’t have,
I found thoughts of you exciting,
Enticing,
A nice thing,
A fudge-cake plus its icing.
So i bargained with ice in all its coolness,
And sugar in its sweetness,
And they couldn’t come close to harness,
Your goodness and great finesse.
And so in gladness I smiled when I thought of you today!