Frame

Dear friend, I’ve heard of your run-ins with life. I’ve heard the hollow echo the sound of your beautifully beating heart makes every time you see a girl you like. 

I see the fear creeping on your face. You worry that you may never truly love again, yet you very well know that, you worry because you love. 

You wonder whether you’ll do enough not to lose your new job, and not regret like Manchester United might. Your new boss is mad cute. She’s your Wayne Rooney and you wanna slide in her DMs right, do everything right, right?

Every thought, a new frame. Every possibility, another frame. To be or not to be, just another frame. Which one will you pick? Will you be happy after all? Frame! 

Your very clear, firm and articulate frame of mind worries you, it was a place of contention before. She said you always came on too strong, she scarred off easy. And now you’re stuck with a new blurred frame.

One giant shot of whiskey has you reeling and creating as many frames as you’re getting rid of, does it ever end? Frame! Frames of frames of frames!

Sleep could have helped, but it’s a gift that only visits once a year like Christmas. And if anything, the nightmares are unbearable frames. Where do you run to?

I say run to me, I’m love. I can be your frame. I’ll frame your fears, staple them to the walls for you to always remember what it means to overcome them.

Run to me, I’m hope. I never run out. I don’t scare easy. I’ll frame all this discouragement, produce a whole book in your name, sell it for a fortune to remind you that even the negative can sell, best.

Run to me, I’m you. I’ve never run out in you, I never will. I’ll take your best smile, frame it for your heart. It needs patching up, well, this frame will do. Not before long, your heart will be as perfect as that new Tesla you’ve been stalking.

Never forget, to fight, to conquer, to dream, to live and outfox life. Smile, and that will be the frame that will remind you of home, always.

I’m your home run, and that is where all of you must fit. In this one picture, in that one frame. All your love, hope, care, worry, fears and life, in one frame – YOU!

Advertisements

Glimpses

I have seen glimpses of your heart, together with the glimpses of these little sparks in your eyes when I make you smile. These have been enough for me to know how farther along the way of healing from my past I’ve gone.

I’ve seen the very glimpses of how wholly I have had my heart and soul heal. Just at the taste of your lips, I know I want the whole, but the bits are too true, too good, to want to let go of.

I have felt enormous peace rush into me and pull me into a grand rest, I wonder what will be of me when I behold the full picture. I have seen beautiful people, with dark hearts. I have you, you didn’t let pain get to damage your heart. And yes, these are just glimpses of what you have let me see so far.

I hope you have seen glimpses of my heart, I need you to know that I at least love for you to know the miles I’d run just to get a sighting of your beauty. I know you know how my blood boils at the thought of you

I hope I have let you see more than glimpses of who we can be. I pray you saw glimpses of the very words that line my heart when I think of you. Heart of Gold, you said. Well, that’s just one of the things that happen to me when you hold me tight.

I want you to know and see and experience exactly what I experience because of you. I’m glad you are my muse. You’re littered every where in my poetry. Specks of your sweet dust lace my tweets and I want so much more, don’t stop showing me these glimpses. Let me in, one glimpse at a time!

Green hearts! 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

📷: pexels.com

Last 2016 Sighs. . .

​The never melodramatic but beautiful melancholy sounds of this slow anthem they sang when these half and incomplete pieces of memories from a battered past finally met the wholeness of the future promised, became the fulness of joy in my house.

Her shoes at my door spilled and spoke of the depth of poetry that the heavens dined on as they sang their toes off to a new reign of peace to be forever enjoyed and mastered.

The life she oozes when she arrives at your door, leaves many a man awestruck by her power.

Oh, dear wisdom, will you take me and be mine. Throughout the tales of time, all majestic adorns of grace and honor upon my head be bestowed.

Please, together with me, let’s melt the ice of impatience as we teach a grace only you have made me experience.

Will you marry Me tonight? So, we can consumate our marriage before the turn of this clock, for 2017 shall be our first child, not born of lust or flesh but of your essence, treasure, spirit and nature.

Sing to me all night long, all those love songs you kept tucked away for your lover for a night like this.

I’ll intimately hum to the beat of your sultry heart as we deliberately cause the earth to shutter under us, bringing together the Heaven and the earth for the Majesty of this day! Come away with me, 2017 awaits!

Happy 2017 folks!

Untitled 2 – #UgBlogWeek (#OryemaReturns)

The evening skies were extra starry, so bright and right or ripe for some cheesy mischief. It had been quite the silence, so, he stretched his arm out, only to find her frozen fingers. Startled, she disguised her wandering attention with a near-whisper scoff. 

He scooped her closer and went on to muse about the brightness of the midnight sky. He searched in the dark for her eyes halfway into his musing, It hit him, she’d been here but not exactly been. Her eyes or the hollow whites he stared right into, spoke so loud that an ugly ache bitterly etched and ebbed right in the middle of his chest. 

He stared blankly, wanting and craving so much to ask a million questions but not knowing how to even start. Why was she this cold? Why had she, with time, slowly scooted farther away into the dark night? Why was her mind wandering away yet she’d invited him here? He needed to know, so he decided it didn’t really matter how that happened. He was going to know!

He kissed her forehead, and just then he noticed the tears; which now freely flowed uncontrollably. 

Man. The questions he now had would for sure have proven very useful in trying to explain why people would demonstrate against the recent U.S elections result.

She’d silently hoped he’d see her pain sooner, but it had taken the fool three grand stories, a thousand twitter trailer jam sessions, a couple of nonsensical soccer jokes, a huge cup of untouched and already molten ice cream for him to notice. Who created men? She wondered. For what it was worth, she knew if tonight went well, it’d be the last she’d see him.

A couple more minutes of disturbing silence. She knew she’d have to come out straight and say it, caring not for what might happen thereafter. If anything, she knew she’d suggested they come to this hill intentionally. It wasn’t as steep as the rest, if anything were to happen, she’d not be hurt as much, she hoped.

Twisting out of his now-very-possessive hold, she wiped her eyes and looked away into the dark, past his shadow and she whispered, “Oryema, Geoffrey Oryema is coming back home”

 

Untitled – #UgBlogWeek

The taste of the last ounces of that poison (we’ll call it poison because it’s illegal) is fading by the minute and she’s still standing, stark sober and unphased. It works like a charm, they said. Her pain overshadowed whatever effect any drug could ever have. 

She drags her bloody body down the street toward her last painful draw of breath. The rain furiously coating her burning anxiety, she couldn’t have cared less about how ruffled her hair now was. Having relied mostly on liquor and any abuse-able drug available on the market  (black), nothing had brought her anywhere closer to the last straw, she had had it.

There she stood in the middle of the road, the pain of having to admit to herself that she had lost all her wits. She knew it was all her fault. She let it happen. Saw the signs, and she just let herself slip deeper into this black hole.

No one had had the time to listen to her distorted and uncoordinated rumblings about a darkness that existed in a seemingly perfect and healthy relationship. 

“It’s just an episode” they said. Rubbishing it off, drawing conclusions about how she must feel. When they were kind enough, they’d suggest how she was supposed to feel or treat the same fool who had found a perfect landing for his fists whenever he felt the urge.

Her agony now painted the skies a shade of grey, darker than the demons that haunted her. Slowly, as life slipped out of her, a bright red smile crept up on her as she saw a bright light come ever closer. And a strong angel towered over her with his protective woolen wings.

She gathered up all her strength and whispered to him, “I waited all my life for you.” She knew then, she’d never have to cry again.

Pieces 

I’m four doors down, memories of the sweet things we did in this house now taste so beautifully sweet and sour, so many memories haunting the glass walls of my already failing memory bank.

Three doors down, three hours later. Midnight looming. I’m as blank as I can ever get. There is nothing in here. Not the ghosts of us. Not so much as a thought of your smile. We’re stuck somewhere between a Friend and Foe. Where did all I want to say run away to? 

Two doors down, I’ve never seen you cry. Old friend, in your sweet time, I’d thought we’d share a good good bye or maybe never have to say good bye. Can I wipe your eyes? Which marathon track confused my words, will they be enough to cover up the wounds?

One door down and all I’d ask is why you’d only want to give me faith when all I want is you. I came all the way down the path of this journey, the path of your daring heart, not for faith. I just want truth. Proof. You.

My heart’s here, plastered all over the walls of this beautiful brick makeshift. It won’t stop three doors down there, not four doors down. It isn’t there to begin with.

Feet, oh my feet, don’t fail me. Hands, oh my hands, don’t fail me. This heart of mine, who shall collect it and place it back into this now empty and freezing vacuum? 

I’m here. Bleeding hands. Raining eyes. Stormy and flighty feet. Heavy laden with the silence. The cold cold stares, I can’t afford them. I’m broken, can’t you see? Collect me. Warm me. Break me maybe, maybe some other day. Today though. Collect me, my bloody pieces, littered all over the rosy garden of your beautiful mind, mend this heart with the bright glimmer in your eye.

I heard the song on the tip of your soul’s tongue, it’s all I want to hear. Sing me to sleep. Lend me a little bit of your trust. Only for tonight. Only for tonight.

Fl0w

​Books and pages

Sweat in trenches

Tears in ledges 

Words and voices

Loud silences 
Fire on furballs
Dreaded ‘morrows

Of dew drenched sorrows

Hot summer meadows

Blazed furrows

We’re unsung heroes
I flow

Fast and hard

Light is no match

Only to impress

Sometimes

Deep and Slow

Caressing 

Reaching 

Healing

Igniting

Delivering

Souls from darkness

The light is on

It burns

(We made 3 on 3rd October 😍😍😍. I want to thank all of my very awesome readers. Because of you, we made it here. Cheers)

Never Be. . .

The testament of love in him, strung on hope as her gentle sobs only served as quick reminders of hearts broken and tears running so loud. Tears he couldn’t catch (they were never his to catch.)

The ache in both hearts, as they straddled against each other in the dim of light, so heavy and burdening. The taste of it so bitter in both their mouths that kisses couldn’t soothe anymore but trim joy and crucify it all to peace lost.

His childlike delight she alone knew how to treasure now left to a stranger stranger to understand and maybe learn to love, the ache of it grew to parts they alone knew how to pleasure. Such sinful ways to say goodbye. Hurt’s lust was too strong for any of them to resist, even in the face of death. It hurt her more to know, she’d be gone and out of misery but he’d not try to find any other as good as she.

“…some part of him knew that would never be him.” – Cindy Cherie.

“I would have done anything to take it away from her – The pain. All of it. To hold her in my arms and let it soak beneath my skin. What is love? Love is looking someone’s agony in the eye, reaching out a wanting hand and saying, Give it to me, I’ll take it.” – Cindy Cherie 

The ache of losing someone irreplaceable. An excerpt from a book I’ll never write. ***R.I.P Mom :'(:'(:'(***

Autumn Leaves

Life is a long story
Told of and to unsuspecting audiences
I got a house last night
Littered with promise
I navigated my tomorrows
Got notifications
Of intentions unsuspected
An accord of friends
Slowly turned to less
Yes, Autumn leaves

The Crack of dawn
Is never promised
The overbearing
Crackling of the sun
Already forgotten
To not wander back in, yet.

Gifts of heart
Promised
Tenderly offered
Gently I cherished
Abhorrently
Mine landed on a rug
Every word spoken
Stunk worse than the last
Autumn left a day at a time

Zeal to live extirpated
That oh rugged rug
The stench of it
Subtle and gentle enough
To have held and consumed my heart
Turned it out into unrecognizable shades of hate
To love again or never to
Promise to or to destroy all
The crossroads crossed me
Closed me in with no air to breathe

In my last seconds
In this, the arena of love
I breathed my last
Life smiled crookedly
Dirty smirks and no humor
Perky red shot eyes
Wrinkled brows
Dirty teeth
Proud of it all

“Josh, Autumn Leaves”

Stunk more than it stung.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: