CREATIVE WRITING VERSE 

The Scars On My Arm

It’s had to explain why you’d cut yourself. Self-inflicted pain, like suicide is had to register on the spectrum of human understanding. To you, the scars act as a reminder an epitaph to a part of you long forgotten, victim to the constant battle between life and existence, the mind versus the heart. The scars are the boundaries between love and hate. Horcruxes to demons that torment your soul, those you wish you to leave behind but whisper in your ear at the slightest whim of depression. The scars on…

Read More
CREATIVE WRITING PROSE 

Friday Night Playlist

Bruno Mars – Our first time She’s sits on the couch, legs covered by a leso on one end and her head rested on a pillow on the other. Her face is seemingly calm, chest moving up and down with a slight smile forming on her lips. I make my way from the kitchen and slowly kiss her lips tasting her cherry lip balm on my lips. As she opens her eyes you can see the dream slowly fade into oblivion, the smile grows wider and she pulls me in, …

Read More
CREATIVE WRITING Dear Abi 

#DearAbi I don’t want to be a nice guy anymore!

Dear Abi, I hope this missive finds you well and in good spirit after Valentine’s day. I’ll get straight into it. Is there a way to write/talk about about being a nice guy without sounding pretentious? The nice guy notion is something I’ve been struggling with for a while now, both in it’s implicit and explicit sense. The term nice guys is too subjective if you ask me. Outside this discussion, I think it carries with it a sense of self-gratification that is somewhat rooted in patriarchy. Like, what make you a…

Read More
CREATIVE WRITING VERSE 

Love in Cliche

He lay next to her watching her fade away, leaving him. The slight warmth of her body the only reminder that he was not yet alone. He squeezed her hand gently, the only way he can now tell her he still loved her. These hands that once picked him up from the depths of hell and restored him to sanity. The hands that he toyed with while they made love. Hands that held their children, bathed them and fed them till they were old enough to fly their own wings.…

Read More
ABOUT ME LIFESTYLE THOUGHTS 

Yes, Kenyans read but…..

By now most of you know my stand on the debate about whether Kenyans read or not. A lot of the mainstream conversations claim that we do not but I am of the contrary opinion with regards to the matter. I believe Kenyans read. Or rather most of the Kenyans I know are avid readers. We can also expand this demographic if you include social media (as a micro-blogging platform), blogs and newspapers/magazines. If you bring all these to the table, it is ignorant to assume that Kenyans do not…

Read More
CREATIVE WRITING VERSE 

The Space Between Living and Existing

To live, is to find meaning beyond existence freedom, is to overcome these waves of resistance.   I seek space, a vacuum to build my own identity, but each day I have to face the reality that misery loves company and mine receives too much dividends, profit in pain, depression and a life in constant recession.   I need space to dance with the devil death whispers in half deaf ears counting down the years to when the music stops and there are no heart beats no songs nor poems…

Read More
CREATIVE WRITING PROSE 

Death Misunderstood

I met death seated under a jacaranda tree as Muthui’s body hang lifeless from the longest branch. It was a chance meet and I know I shouldn’t have been walking around at three in the morning but I just had to pee and Muinge would not escort me to the latrine even though I was seven years old and it was his responsibility as my elder brother. He sat there quite, talking to himself. A blank expression canvasing his visage. You couldn’t tell if he was happy or sad or…

Read More