Sense

Can you feel your soul drifting amongst the crowds

 

helplessly?

 

Can you sense the aura?

 

The smilers,

 

the frowners,

 

the downright emotionless?

 

Can you feel the vibes piercing through your soul?

 

Eating you,

 

feeding you,

 

sparing you?

 

Can you feel the heaviness?

 

Can you feel the weakness

 

… of the human soul?

 

 

 

 

 

Succumb.

 

 

 

 

 

Drop them all – the influences –

 

good and bad.

 

Let go…

 

 

 

 

 

drift.

 

Flutter.

 

 

 

 

 

Release yourself,

 

fly away,

 

feel the breeze

 

and move with it.

 

 

 

 

 

Breath in,

 

glide…

 

 

 

 

 

and for once…

 

 

 

 

 

experience your virgin soul.

Oh…

 

 

 

 

 

the sweetness of what once was.

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Innocent Blood

I’m a passerby in a shoot out,

a Helmandian under fire,

a commuter at a bomb scene,

a saint in the noose.

I am innocent blood.

Why d’you want to shed me and behead me?

Freeze…

and take back the bullet you fed me.

I’m an orphan on the sidewalk,

an old man in a stampede,

a daughter on the pavement,

a son in the streets.

I am innocent blood.

Why d’you want to shed me and behead me?

Freeze…

and take back the bullet you fed me.

I’m a pensionless pensioner,

an activist with no rights,

a pauper with dependents

I’m tomorrow without a future.

I am innocent blood.

Why d’you want to shed me and behead me?

Freeze…

and take back the bullet you fed me.

I’m a story without a teller,

a mind without a means,

a being without a life…

I’m blood stains on your hands.

I am innocent blood.

Why did you shed me and behead me?

Its too late…

to take back the bullet you fed me.

On haunches

Sometimes – well, most times

 

we tend to be overly paranoid and concerned with what others think of us

 

to such an extent, we end up losing our sanity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We live in a world swarmed with an unusually large number of paranoid hypochondriacs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Its like we want to look good more than we want to be good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(sigh)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What more is there to do other than feel pity for ourselves?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But worse still are those instances when we

 

behave like the baboon from one particular Swahili proverb.

 

This baboon was always amused by

 

and critical of

 

the in-your-face and dont-you-dare-ignore-me buttocks 

 

of other baboons;

 

obviously 

 

obliviously blind to its own much more comical

 

gluteus maximus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you know of the proverb I’m talking about?

 

How does it go again?…

 

Is it “Nyani hana mkundu?” 

 

No, thats not it…

 

Or is it “Nyani haoni mikundu?”…

 

Oops… I got it wrong again…

 

Uhmm… yeah!

 

Now I remember…

 

 

 

“Nyani haoni kundule!” *

 

______________________

 

 * – A baboon cannot see it’s buttocks.

The Trap

Put your clothes on, put your shoes on…

Step outside and go to school, yo.

Put your clothes on, put your shoes on…

Step outside and work the field, yo.

 

Who’s your teacher?

Who’s your boss?

 

Be careful where your feet land as you’re walking.

Be careful what you wear, what you say when you’re talking.

 

Who taught you to think?

What quenches your pen?

Who provides your ink?

 

You have three options:

 

1- Walk into the trap

2- Walk around it

3- Walk into it… and free yourself from it

 

Put your clothes on, put your shoes on…

Step outside and walk the path, yo.

Put your clothes on, put your shoes on…

Step outside and do the math, yo.