Flora, Flora Botanica.

She said that I liked tea….but I didn’t like tea…I liked black tea I opined…so she begged to ask…why black? And I cheesily retorted that Black reeks of pain and dark…and that black tea tastes like the honk of a lorry with a dying battery..
“That must be so swee..” I didn’t let her finish conveying that sentiment
‘Do you mean to say that pain, darkness and a sickly lorry honk frenzy your taste buds?’…
My acquaintance didn’t say a word..she went on to sip from my concoction of tea leaves, masala and water then closed her eyes blissfully..just as if the tea was draining to her heart instead of her stomach..
I was about to conclude that she loved it when my now silky faced acquaintance asked ‘ so you don’t take sugar too?’
For a moment I didn’t have the words but before she could brand me weird, I went like..’ I think I like my Mercury better measuring temperatures than sweetening beverage.’..what I took after saying that wasn’t a sip..it was a gluttonous gulp
I was laughing last..or so I thought..but I wasn’t ready for this..
‘ Do you mind sharing your diabetes story’
Okay, she’d won now. And you know, it was eight in the morning..I only win most of my word fights in the afternoon so I motioned my hand toward hers for a handshake..’Edward, Edward Wright’, I said in my vain bass
Shaking my hand quite firmly, she said, ‘I’m Flora, Flora Botanica..I hate flowers. Pollen more specifically, stinging sneezes.’
‘You do realize you’re an irony Flora’ I quip.
‘ It’s been two decades of that statement in my ears..it’s my best clichĂ©’
I wasn’t winning this one.

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It all was about my fill..

I can’t say I loved those eggs

I can’t say there was anything sweet about them

I can’t lie to you there even was a drop of oil in there let alone a single onion

But I’ve gotta tell you

That, Doe, it never was about my tongue

Or about the pungency I’d create after that

Amidst all these..what mattered most

Was that I needed me a good stretch of the stomach

It All Was About My Fill

And it mattered not how much the rest loathed them

I hated hunger, I will displeased by anger

I still am.

I know I’m….

Paper and pen might not ever be enough
To capture perfect descriptions of what my heart says
Words might not ever interpret satisfactorily
The palpitations the thought of her casts on my heart
I might not ever be able to tell
What it is her voice does to my ears
And when she laughs in those voice notes
That serendipitous giggle that’s a siren’s song to my heart
My words might not ever explain the musical notes
And how marvellously those cords are tuned.
I might not be able to ever tell
What it feels like to lay my eyes on her when she’s not looking
To stare into her eyes when and to feel immersed in them
Or just looking into that sumptuous bosom she sports
Or those well curved servings of African glory…
Well to say the possible least
She’s just this one Haven of a marvel that happened in my life
A Heavensent soul, an answered prayer
A massive addition to why I’m blessed
She’s a redefinition of what my dreams look like
She’s the best description of what awesome company is to me..
Sometimes my brain waves just wander into this thought that she’s this sole key that could free set this soul of mine from the pain that time deals onto life….
She’s my best description of Love

I know I’m in Love…

Memories

Sometimes I trudge down this path…and it always has a story to tell…
It tells many an elaborate story, clear to the finest bit, accompanied with high definition moving pictures…and sometimes..not so often though..it comes with renditions of crystal clear sound and voices
Sometimes the story is sweet…so sweet I get engulfed in it and forget I’m not exactly within the time-set of that story
Sometimes it gets so funny…I burst out laughing…I laugh so hard my ribs ache… so hard people wonder why on Earth I would just suddenly laugh alone
And well sometimes I sigh in relief… thanking God that things happened the way they did and not in any other way lest things wouldn’t be the same now
Sometimes the stories move me to tears and I let them flow freely as if to wash away the pain with them
Many at times though…the stories give me hope and a reason to live on, a reason to continue with the struggle

It’s called Memory lane; this neat path I trudge down sometimes….and well it narrates stories of my memories so well. It almost always is worth the day-dream

The liars we are

So a few days ago, my phone rang at around 6am and so I woke to see that my dad was calling. He pretty much never has specific calling patterns, he could call you at anytime..the Kenyan in him deems that right. Most of his calls last less than a minute and it’s always to know how I’m doing or sometimes to ask if it’s raining on my side and that’s how he shows he cares; enough for me. So I pick the call like…
‘Hello’
‘Morning Edward,’ comes his thunder ‘ how you doing’
‘Im fine’ I say
It hits me that actually I say that with a cheesy voice. So look I’d said ‘Im fine’ repeat after me ‘I’m fine’ Hmm…can I ask a question. What exactly does it mean to be fine. I’m sure even the happy people don’t know what it is to be fine. Well it’s sadly true that I started my day with a lie..not because I wasn’t all that fine but because there probably is no other response for the question ‘how are you’ And coming to think about it…what a time saver it indeed is…and not forgetting that it also saves us a myriad of questions that would have come our way should we have said we weren’t fine.

Who knows or is familiar with this lie about being ‘ a certain number of minutes away ‘ or the other variant of it that says ‘Im almost there’ Yeah it comes in different forms and the more believable the sentiment the higher the degree of falsehood sewn into it. Okay I’m not even going to go into deep details of how my mum receives calls and says she’s twenty minutes away when she’s not even dressed up yet which on a good day takes close to thirty minutes. Yes I won’t dig deep on that.

I’m told by..let’s call them birdies..that the typical person almost never means it when the say ‘you look nice’ it’s a commonplace compliment and I must tell you it’s more misused than understood. Well the next time someone says you look nice…just know you look ‘okay’ at best and nothing more..yes friend, nothing more. You must be finding it hard to believe especially if you get that quite often…let’s just say you’re constantly lied to. And I beg to understand that such a sentiment may be relayed sarcastically and you might not take time to try and understand. Then there’s also this jealous bit of it, that being a man doesn’t allow me to talk much aboit, that exists in almost every person’s mouth and is dished out generously as a secret ingredient in the compliments. Like I’ll practically find you telling a Bob or Karen how nice they look in that new designer jacket while in there it kills you how much attention they’re drawing to themselves that you probably won’t live to ever command.

Then there’s this one that goes like ‘I love it’. You need to know that in the million myriad of times you get this one..there’s okay, let’s be good and say a maximum of only two true I-love-its. One is from your Mum obviously, she’ll always mean it. The other most times is from this person you inspire in some sort of way and actually with the type of people we are currently there’s nothing so inspiring about us..so this person is just this dum-dum you have in your circle. And I hope talking about this doesn’t give you the impression that I’m good enough to not be part of the culprits who dish out false I-love-its. And especially with these upcoming artists, YouTubers, bloggers and all. I intentionally insulted myself on the previous line so don’t fuss so much about it, I know. Many are the times I receive SoundCloud links and also YouTube links and all. It’s no lie a good deal of these SoundCloud tracks are just pure whack lyrics, and there’s YouTube videos that come in 360p quality and then as if to complement the unimpressiveness they’re recorded by ‘cameramen’ with these frail, vibrating sort of hands ending up with shaky videos and hmm I’ll not even talk about the sound. So yeah…I also dish out false I-love-its which am not sure are to support , to give them hope or to avoid hurting the owners of the works. Honestly if you haven’t said ‘I love it’ at least once without meaning it then you’re lying right now.

There’s this lie we tell and get told in equal measure. This animal that sounds like ‘oh yeah I remember you’. It’s a common term or should I call it household in settings such as family gatherings and family events that bring all your folks together. There’s this meme that puts it down very accurately..like there’s this uncle who asks you if you remember him and goes on to narrate that he drove the pick up that carried your mum to hospital when she suddenly developed labor pains and was about to give birth to you…I’m sadly still pretty sure you’ll say ‘ oh yeah I remember you’ because it’s at such a point that both your parents give you those ‘dont-you-dare-embarass-me’ kind of eyes. You can’t afford to say no at that juncture

On to the next one. See I’m yet to start looking for work so I don’t know much about this. I hear there’s quite a great deal of lies that surround that process. Straight from the form filling thingy all the way to the words ‘ we’ll keep in touch with you’ which am told are the last words you ever get to hear from your interviewer. Resume’s are also another thing we fill with endless likes about how qualifies we are for the position. In the interview room you are also bound to lie about your strengths and weaknesses and even go ahead to tell of how you can be productive with minimal or no supervision. Its the kind of lie you can’t help but tell.

Then to this snake we know very well. And just so you know; anyone who is nervy enough to ask you your age is overpreparedly ready for you to lie…believe it or not. Many of us feel some pain just telling their ages as they are. We’re almost always either adding some few years and slashing off some so as to suit the intended situation. I still remember how back in high school our games teacher would lie about our ages in the forms to be filled. I haven’t forgotten playing as an under fourteen player at the age of seventeen and how we shamelessly thrashed minors in some basketball event.

There’s a big clutter of lies I’m not talking about right now..like the dreaded ‘jist kidding’ lie, the infamous ‘ I’m busy on that day’ the celebrated ‘im sort of broke right now’ and the king of them all, ‘I forgot’
There’s no lying about this, this world we live in right now runs on lies. White lies most essentially and the rest too. I’m told there’s also red and black lies. I know nothing about those or how true that is. Or is it a lie that they exist? I don’t know.

Fire and ice

When it’s a wildfire in your head
And when the fires scald your thoughts
When the pain roasts your insides
My kisses are just the right amount of cool
And my lips the snow showers that’re the flames’ remedy
When it a breezy gale in my head
When my thoughts are blown cold to the bone
And when my insides are iced stiff
Your kisses are the right amount of warm
And your lips the fiery fountains that’re the chills’ antidote
You’re my glow and I’m the frost you own
We’re fire and ice baby
And our kisses; Apricot sunrises and Crimson sunsets.

(S)Wordsmiths.

Sometimes the alphabet is a set of knives

And words are double-edged swords

Sometimes…

Speech is like dealing blades

And the sound of it….so sharp.

Sometimes

It’s our our own guts slashed up

Sometimes its our hearts that bear the brunt

When heartbeats are sliced away

Not to be seen no more

But to be glanced at from afar

To be wished back

To pipely be dreamed of.

We are but Smiths

Our breathe the steel

Tounges the flames

Vocal cords as hammers

And well salivary files…ever sharpening

Our lips the gates

Gates seldom opened

By angry keys….

By jilted keys….

Envy…. jealousy…

There’s a bunch of keys in our brains.

This.Is.New.Benign™