last year’s tragedy

December 31, 2008 at 12:39 pm | Posted in life | 8 Comments

in memory of the above…
dear new year…
Drive me into sins so sexual, harass me into haunts so naughty, slap my vision with scenes so graphic, design my heart into a hub so icy, that all my desires sired by passion, may all but freeze, floating in my bloodstream like icebergs, to cool my hate-moglobin cells, wrapped with wrath, distilled in treachery.
And may you keep them all reminiscent of that year that once was.
happier new year to all.

all who hail this dood.


the sex sentences

December 20, 2008 at 10:12 am | Posted in newshit, poetry, retardedrants, untamedthots | 1 Comment
Tags: ,

the following are the expression of the above, without fear or favour but with some fervor, my little unannounced Christmas present for y’all bloggers, unwrap it with care.

to the the prim and proper, allow some of this stray light to spray your righteous content, for once. i am liable not, though, but of course!

the dis-concert:mettalica!

Camera, lights, darkness.
Grunge guitars, hoarse coarse voices, somber tones, a nudge at my grudge.
Frozen anger. Still stiff air. Hair rises, overhead sprinkles spit cocaine to ease all pain, not much to my disdain.
Shush, silence, a pause. Then a finger strums. Drums roll. The beat bounces back, cymbals wash, supreme gream reigns.
Another nudge.
Blood red lights sway over us, not mean fete but defeat? my neat heart and meat negates!
Shove, push, a single amorphous bloody lot, some rot, high on Rock, hop wildly around demented lyrics, DOG SI NATAS, hell flows over.
In my bucket list, it had all been contained, now, in reality, my saliva is acidic.
Shove, push again, am drenched in a semi-suffocate state, their sweat, acridic, strikes my nostril dead, but my eyes, very alive, trace the punkers on stage, insane men sodden with terrific madness and energy.
Shove, push, my heart is almost squeezed out,like teethpaste…but the mood, now elec-trick soon ingests me…
Strings are strung, clads are flung
Metal reverbates, intermeshes with horriffic screams of a white-face-black-eyed Rocker, mouth open so wide, the mic is now to matchstick.
I pull out my big stick of spluff for a piff and it cracks as i sucks.

the grateful dead

Even when the dark times are growing dim and darker.
Even when reality is getting more unreal and starker.
Even when italicized thoughts streaming into my subconscious make no bold sense.
Even when my life is taking a downward spiral into an abyss of hopelessness.
And even then, if death ever swings its cunt my way, bury this savage, this side up that even in the grave silence, i can still mock and moon the damned universe and it’s cruel rulers.
For they don’t make them like this anymore, the grateful dead.

am sincerely sorry for misleading you, but this is in preparation of a year ender post, no surprises i’ll do for y’all readers of this blog. the above is part of my unmentioned quest to express myself (though sloppy, thanks i know, lol) in six sentences.


December 19, 2008 at 9:55 am | Posted in msheflani | 2 Comments

i was never the kind of a guy a girl could give a second look, forget a first fast glance… and i knew it, i never tried to make anyone like me. I was a wretch, a loser, a reckless leech with no sense of direction, melted ego, no self esteem, but great self astonishment that God would keep this creature alive, in his cosmic lab, the universe.
With two hollows for eyes, scant brain to maintain the buoyancy of my rotting head, i was another screw head, scrap soul in His junk yard, waiting, watching…
But… was *never* always like this.
I were once loved.
Someone once liked me, in another life.
The most precious memory i have, encrypted secretly in my microchip, away from the demented soul i have become.
Since my inception, never had such a feeling descended in my heart, soul, body and mind.
It was divine, my life glittered, sunshine warmed my soul, my heart smiled.
She loved me, Ivana she did and in Havana we lived and heaven she gave me.
Her words and wanton eyes, her curves and cuddles, her nipples and the ripples, they tripled all over my crippled soul, i healed…her voice and the void it filled, her embraces and the creases it unfolded, in my sexpansive thesaurus, not a single word i have found, to subscribe this.
For all i know, i gave her a rightful share back, though wobbly and shaky, almost flowing over, i tried.
But one day, that prematurely dark afternoon, in the alleys of Rome, where lovers do roam, she whispered the words…the words that echoed -and still echo- in my mind, swirled in dizzying oscillations and when they came to, crystallized into a bitter capsule that settled on my tear gland…


by droplet,
they trickled, acid droplets of condensed, compressed human bitterness, they corroded my face, eroded all beauty, faded all the glory.
All was changed, changed utterly.
A terrible beauty was born.

Unto this day, i roam in these lands, lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting for stray souls in the orchard of broken dreams and narrate my ordeal, before ripping and roasting their hearts.
For dinner.

Curse huyu jamaa

December 16, 2008 at 9:30 am | Posted in life | 6 Comments

Nilidai tu kamoja, akakanyangia, mi nikajam, yeye aka-duck, nikidhani ni jokes, nilibaki tu ma-lights, ideaz mob kwa kichwa lakini hazi make sense…juu ni yeye tu pekee nishawahi like, wengine bosk walikataa kuingia, mipango yangu ikawa haivai.

akaenda tu ivo...

hii ni story ya boyfulani wa hood G kwa core, ka P I M P ki plani,  lakini akawa na ‘squashy pimple alipo meet mtoto fulani, mtoi wa Meja, sonko fulani mtaa.

yaani, zile feelings zilielea kwa blood stream, zikawa tu zina nihaunt vibaya, kila usiku nikilala, safari na mawazo ziliniandama. Zikawa haziniachii nafasi ya kupumzika juu jo, nilimess kitu real, na unajua ghetto kuangukia burus sio fake ni kismat tu…

ma-blame na ma-blame, kila time tu nilijiblame, maswali hayana jibu, ma-memory sweet tu ndo zilini keep sober. day ingine hapo, nakumbuka, nilimwangushia vision twedi thate fae, future yake na mimi, kakabaki tu kana-blush, zile dimples zika sink ka venye roho yangu yu bonyezeka kila time niki checki.

Wallahi, sijawahi feel kitu ha hii.

Huyu mtoi alimada kimadaga, ka folk tale ya Lwanda Magere ali-discover behind hii veil ya u-gangsta, kuna kitu soft huku ndani.

Saa zingine, hizi mathoughts zi unitempt nitoe urwaro niiseti kwa mdihe, nikimbie mtaa nikiwika…

Lakini na-decide tu kujiskizia tu, ziwezi show mtu huzuni inayo nikumba, machungu yanayonipata ni siri yangu na kaburi la sahau.

Ata ka sitawahi get mwingine ka yeye…maisha lazima iendelee, ama?

***hii ni fiction, hakuna kitu personal, hehe.**

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