Conversations with You 

Conversations With You
When will you get back to writing? 
Soon. 
I have missed reading your work  
I have missed bleeding words too. 
Why don’t you write? 
Because. 
Because what? 
Because. 
You should get back to writing. 
I will try, maybe tukifika Canaan tutajaribu.  
Unaenda Canaan Pia? Me ntabaki in the land of alcohol and bills…..
They serve milk and honey in Canaan, you will miss that. 
Umesoma Joshua 5:12?
Inasemaje? 
Hahaha…. Sijui nimeskia watu wakisema Sema. Wenye wanaenda Canaan for real ndo wanajua, you know.
Tungoje tuskie hyo verse kutoka kwa Joshua then. 
Hahaha.. Very funny.
You laugh at lame jokes because you just trying to be nice 
No, I laugh because you are cute when you try to be funny. And ka hujui Joshua 5:12 Hakuna penye unaenda. 
Why? 
It’s the ticket or secret word or something. 
I digress. 
So, get back to writing. 
Make me…. 
How? 
I don’t know. 
Okay, I will figure something..
No. No. No.  I will get back to Writing by myself. you are full of bad ideas, ideas that involve lots of drinking and a killer hangover. Always. 
The best kind of ideas, I know, right? 
You are hopeless. Alcohol is your solution to literally everything!
You know me so well. Let’s drink to that.  There is a keg bar around the corner. 
I’m sold. 
Not so fast Missy, you are buying. 
Hahaha…. I think I will pass.
No,  kidding, you are buying I will make myself useful by ordering. 
Pass! If you like alcohol so much, why don’t you pay for it? 
I do, when solving my own problems.  Lemme educate you on all things alcohol :Alcohol solves all problems, but there are rules also, you have to pay for it if you are the one with the problem.  Also alcohol is always the answer, it mixes well with literally everything but good decisions, remember that. 
Consider me schooled. 
So, let’s go. 
I can’t afford alcohol or therapy so how about some cheap options like tea and books? 
Not coffee and books? 
We kinda broke up or we not talking to each other.  I mean coffee. Not books. I can’t break up with books. 
I don’t like tea. 
You will love my lemon tea. 
Okay, am sold.  But next time, Ww doing it my way. 
I hope not. 
Buzz kill. 
You are welcome. 
(excerpt from the book I will never write- good conversations)

Seduce Me 

Seduce me. 

I don’t mind the cliche romance we see on TV, my god, am a sucker for slow walks under the moon and chasing setting sunsets. The reason they are cliches is coz they work!  

I am sucker when it comes to silly games by the beach and getting high by the beach, scratch that last part, I like getting high anywhere.

I am a sucker for efforts! 

A well planned dinner, breakfast in bed, unexpected kisses….. 

That kind of thing.  
But when I say seduce me this is what I have in mind. I am a hopeless romantic, of course. 
Kiss me like you mean it. 
Hug me like you want to 
Look at me like am the only girl in the world, like I put stars in the sky and the moon is my best friend. 
Darling, I am not a hard girl to please. 
Text me random smart shit to make my day, shit like why you think the sun goes to sleep so that the moon can unleash her brightness or what you think vegan zombies eat or what you think of event horizon and space theory…. I promise I won’t indulge you but that will fucking make my day  
Talk dirty to me, try seducing me with science, use physics, the appalling theories,a seductive language forged from physics will definitely get you into my pants, I know I won’t  understand half the things you be saying but I will be so impressed you wouldn’t have to try. 
Undress me with your beautiful mind and baby, I am sold. 
Seduce me.

On Clients and In Betweens Of Being Your Own Boss 

So, the journey of being your own boss comes with challenges, who would have thought? I am still new in the game,still learning the ropes of the business.I am in the shoe industry, just in case you didn’t know. Ankara and custom made shoes to be precise.
I heard somewhere that the principles of business is the same everywhere and all you have to do is figure them out, apply them and thereafter, everything else works with the same principle. Well, where I come from we believe in the power of books or is it information? So, before I started my business, I read books from several fields, books written by economist, psychologist, marketers and heavens knows what other related fields. I thought those books will on the least, help me with basic principles of the business and all. Imagine my surprise when it hit me that I had to learn everything from FUCKING scratch. So far so good, still learning, still trying. Haven’t put a bullet through my brains yet, you know. Progress.
Today am in the mood of talking about customers or clients. If you are a start up, the worst clients are your friends or so I found out. I should have known from the start, or I should have taken the advice from that book I don’t remember that somehow stated that friends will be your first clients,and they will grandly ruin you. I mean,some of my friends have been awesome and paid up and all. Most of them did let me down. Some paying half the money,others none and some placing orders and then somehow changing their mind. I mean,what the fuck, why give specifics of a shoe then somehow change your mind? You do realize, it will take a century to have another you with such a poor taste in shoe,right? The reason we custom make shoes is so that we include our clients in the process of creation. I have over fifteen pairs of shoes lying somewhere in my house that I have no fucking idea what to do with them. I can’t even wear them, maybe I will go to shagz(my village) and I might get lucky to find a few feets willing to wear them, donate them for Christmas or something.
They say the client is always right. I know. Some clients I found online bought our products and gave us both positive and constructive critics that I did appreciate. Perfection is our aim and with such criticism we will definitely achieve perfection. If a client doesn’t like a product, that is totally alright. I don’t see how clients are right when they give you specifics of what they want then fail to pick up their goddamn orders.
Then the ones who outright refuse to pay. That was a mistake on my side. I am learning. Soon, I will get better at the game, like everyone else. Apparently, no one escapes bad debts, it’s part of the game.
On the days I feel like giving up, someone restores my faith in humanity in one way or another.
Until next time friends. I will keep updating you on my journey of being my own boss. Tough, I know. We carry on.
Namaste.

Coffin Maker

 

Gather your tools, coffin maker

Buy a ton of nails and a bale of cotton

Grease the chain saw for we shall slaughter trees

Make comfy, scented and studded coffins if possible

Peak is coming, the demand of coffins shall surpass the supply

The smell of the dead will dance in the air

The flies will camp on the dead bodies

Worms will fight for the fresh corpse

Vultures will feed on the rotten meat

Caterpillars will hatch on the dead’s blocked nostrils

The undertaker will reign and resign

He will not stand the seduction from the pretty dead ladies

He will not stand the bullying from the muscular dead men

He will not stand the innocence of the little dead kids

He will not stand the cries of the half dead people he will have to kill

The coffin maker, we are waiting for their commands

We are worshippers of men, remember?

They will spit venom and we shall swallow it smoothly

They will buy us machetes to kill our neighbors

They shall pay us to light our “Vibandas” in their demonstrations

The coffin maker, make more coffins we are approaching peak

We shall bleach their faces with battery acids

We shall evict different tribes from our village

We shall kill everyone who didn’t support our politician

We shall carry their heads in town as we sing and chant victory slogans

Coffin maker, after you have sold the coffins

The accelerators of the violence will disappear

They shall fly to abroad, and our roads to success will be cursed

They shall pay casinos and whores with what they took from us

I bet before the coffin maker makes the first coffin we will have learnt

That humanity was there before politics

That political differences should never call for clashes

We may have different tribes but same blood type

And peace will help us fix our broken pieces

©2017, #ItutorPoetry

Daughters Of No One In Kenya 

I am a daughter of no one and my siblings sons and daughters of no one

I have no godfather and my mother is a peasant immigrant.

I don’t know who my father is, my mother never mentioned him we didn’t try asking.

She did everything in her power to raise us. She toiled on your Lands(Kenya) and sweated blood to feed us,sometimes it took a whole days job on the fields to get a glass of maize and beans for dinner to be shared by all of us.

Our only hope for ever tasting bread or milk was to work hard in school or so they told us.

“Have good grades, go to the university and you will be somebody someday.”

All I wanted was to taste fresh bread and eat vegetables cooked in oil.

So I worked hard.

So I burned the midnight oil for good grades

So I made the school library my other home

So I borrowed books.

So I read every book in our school library.

“Knowledge is power.”

Knowledge I acquired.

My grades in school were flawless.

My disciplinary record flawless.

I followed the rules or took great care to not get caught when I broke them .

The first time i tasted biscuits, the ones sandwiched With icing sugar, was in an English class when Mrs.Otieno thought my composition was exquisite and i deserved a reward.

I had only read about such biscuits in Novels and tasting them felt like heaven.

I had always admired my English teacher .

If memory serves me right, I used to dream that if I worked hard enough I will would someday; drive a car like hers, master the command of English language like she did and afford mouth watering biscuits like the one she had awarded me. She even told me that the secret was in working hard,Get good grades, go to the university.

I did all that.

I studied hard.

I made it my mantra.

finally I got into the university.

I graduated college.

Here I’m five years later and I think my immigrant mother probably had it better. My papers lie under my bed.

I stopped photocopying my CV because there was no point.

Kiptoo asked me to sleep with him so he could consider giving me an interview.

Wafula wants me to be his third wife for a job offer.

Liteitei asked me to scratch his back, he didn’t even bother explaining.

My story is long and boring,nothing worth writing home about.

Someday may be I should head middle East and probably Slave for a few dollars but that Also got some scratching and backs for it to be a reality.

Another fantasy.

Another dream.

It’s like i never learn when they sell me fantasies.

I stopped telling my mom the reality am living in.

That am broke.

That I do odd jobs that pay piss to get by.

That I live with three other girls, struggling to pay rent.

That I live on a single meager meal a day.

So I send her cash often so she would think am okay.

Some nights while I lie awake, I fantasize on taking Wafula on the offer.

Then when Sunrise comes up I remember why I have to fight another day.

I think of pink lotus and how it blooms after a long period of mud and darkness and I fight to survive another day.

Hope is a dirty word than Fuck but hope has been my only faithful friend.

She,Hope, has kept me going,afterall the alternative is hopelessness

I would rather hope even if it kills me sometime.

I have heard of success stories, I tattooed a Phoenix on my belly and a lotus on my back, on the days I forget I trace my hand on the Phoenix, to remember.

Someday I will rise from the ashes but today I have to get by in the ruins my life. Abandoned ghost towns have a better chance of being Rich and famous than my life but that doesn’t mean I will stop trying.

I think of Dubai, a desert that became a dream and I fight on.

The promise of Canaan is no longer lies in good grades, not in my reality, Kenya . Maybe the promise of Canaan is in playing dirty but I was raised Christian and No matter how I try I can’t seem to bring myself to deal drugs, teachings from a tender age,keeps weighing on my conscience.

Maybe someday things will change. Maybe I will find a godfather or my father will come save me.

Maybe love will save me.

Maybe things will change.

Maybe they won’t.

I fight to see another day.

I look at how hopeful sunrises are and I carry on.

The glory of sundown reminds me that just because the sun is setting in my life That doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful and glorious, it makes a good story after all. i talk to the moon a lot. Her cycle reminds me that I don’t have to be bright or show up to called a moon. I’m still Riri even when I don’t show up.

I carry on.

I take it a day at a time.

Just another day, in a daughter of no one, In Kenya.

She keeps on.