My 2011... How was yours?

So the year 2011 started. And like every other year, I didn’t make any resolutions. On the contrary, though, unlike every other year, I didn’t have a routine. I had dropped outta College! No.  I wasn’t feeling great. I felt confused and lost, not knowing what to do with myself and all that time I had on my hands.

I still hanged around my uncles a lot though (talk of routine). Some self-made guys with a wealth of experience as far as life is concerned. Other than school, I could say this is the one thing I’ve been constant with the whole of my life. Sit there in their midst and listen as they talk about generally everything. But 2011 is that year I seemed to have gained the right to contribute to these conversations. It was good.

I got involved in some voluntary work.  It made me feel a bit mature for my age. My old man started realising I’m not that lazy, selfish bastard he sometimes thought I was, Lol!

First year, first semester of college and I had a ball! Of course it wasn’t all smooth and sweet.  I had my down and downs, but it doesn’t mean college sucked.

 

The long holidays did though. So I tried my hand at couple of things. But that was until I got my first job. For the first time in my life I got employed in an office environment. It was pleasant experience, brushing shoulders with awesome professionals. Everything about working in an office was splendid except for one thing-being employed.

The goons…and goonettes. You don’t want to know! Hahaha!!

The sunset at the beach is beautiful, Love is passionate, Drugs are addictive, a Mercedes is elegant,

The game of football is spectacular; but the goons, no words can quite explain.

More time with family. Christmas with family.

2011 might as well have been my best year yet.

M. kinoti. J

Dec 2011 ©

Deceit

Whispers. Whispers are like those sounds.

As the wind blows against these straws of grass, I sit and wander in thought.

So gentle yet so strong… Huge trees bend and whistle in strain. Strain

Red. Red are the flames I felt upon my face.

As I ignored everything around me, the world was you and me.

And that was back then… back when, I struggled. Struggled

Feelings. Feelings are what I had.

Love is what I had.

You are what I had… You were, what I heard.

M. Kinoti. J

Copyright. Dec.

Writer's block!

Every night before I sleep I look at this book that I keep on a stool beside my bed. Finger through the pages as voices ring in my head. It's like each word speaks out to catch my attention, even at the slightest gaze I accord them. It's been ages since I wrote anything! Not that I do not want to, but I fear for what I may be unable to-express to the fullest! I've been wanting to write..


Write an open letter to the Minister of Education and; dissect, critic and attempt to correct the flawed education system that exists in Kenya..


Write to that Kenyan hip hop artiste and ask him what is wrong? Why he's strayed from the path set by his predecessors-kalamashaka, ukoo, etc ..or would he rather be over-paid than underrated? Or rather sell his soul, than be the unsung hero..? Flaunt skills only he claims he's got. Talk about money and cars he doesn't drive. All the while society tries to seek a voice as the leaders out here have failed miserably.. 


I've been wanting to write about my new-found love. And how it sometimes hurts that the people closest to me cant know, shouldn't know..

I WANT TO WRIIIIITE.. so much that I cant write.
                                                                               J.kinoti.M
Copyright.September, 2011.

TAXI DRIVER

Every time I see, that girl.
Difference in each
sunrise.
A ray of sunshine. In my morning.
After that chilly night.
In my naivety -
Or my fright.

The sway in her legs as
She walked spoke of class...
Her manicured nails - fragments off glass -
From the nights experiences.

A sparkle in her eye. The
twinkle like a shine
In my eye
When she smiled.
Who am I not to wish her mine?

The sun rose with
Her each time I picked her.

And like the fantasies I
Held of me and her.
Drops in the horizon each
Time I drop her. Into these packages...

Many boys at one stop,
Halt is the word, may be a longing?
Never spoken, never forgotten.
All along deceived and naive lust! The veil in my
eyes
The serpent be she, It all is revealed.

In the shield of her eyes...

You stare too much.
She lied to my smile...
Watch the road,
My taxi driver!

                                  All writes reserved to Kinoti and  Rebecca Belle

                                                                              Copyright March.

WHY HER ?

These streets whence she came from,
back to these streets she brought forth.
Neither by choice nor planned,for
in honesty through her confession
she had  fallen short.
Questions lingered, over what significance this had.
Would this be her turning point?
Did this bring any hope with it?
Or was it the ultimate curse for her actions?


Many men she had seen, many men she had laid;
to rest! Thus to many women, she brought tears in their eyes.
And to why some people tread on this soil,
that to her would forever remain a riddle
For not all have the liberty and shape their destiny.


For she knew no other life other these streets,
other than these needles and drugs;
desperate hobos in rags, homes of rubbles and shacks,
she brought her up by these ways,
showed her around and, to roll up jays.
Showed her to shake what she gave her 
And allowed her boyfriend do to her what they did together...
A sad story I cannot continue altogether,
because at 16 last year, she took her life in September!                                                     

                                                          J.kinoti.M
                                           Copyright.Feb 2011

a brethren

i know a brethren.
he's become a fantasist
because he's lost all hope
even in the simplest form of a dream.

     Oh, the darkness he sees 
     when he shuts his eyes-no vision.
     The cold that he meets
     when he touches his heart-loneliness.
     Beknownst of the fact that he's lost his soul,
     He speaks out loud only to hear his echo respond.

i know a brethren.
Larger than life,the experiences he wishes himself
High hopes and dreams,
He has value for his life.
     
     The warmth of his smile,
     and the spark in his eyes-elation.
     The courage in his voice,
     and the way he takes each day after the other-determination.
     With his mind set on what he desires deep in his heart,
     Like the free spirit he is,he lets his soul wander.
                              
                                         
                            All writes reserved to the poet J.kinoti.M

                                                          Copyright Feb 2011

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Just a thought..(Part 2)

Have you ever met someone who felt like they knew so much? KNOWLEDGE is king! Yet sadly and ironically, royalty isn't gained. But we all want to feel like we can relate, like we belong to the lineage, that we're all descendants of Solomon... WISDOM comes with age-thus many believe. In fact, you have come to hold it as fact; "Kuishi kwingi kuona mengi" Isn't that what they taught and told you? EXPOSURE is independent of the age and time anyone could ever spend treading on this earth. But they never brought you up that way. They warned you of thinking otherwise else you'll go astray. That is where you go wrong-when what they've told you, you have come to BELIEVE. [A belief is not merely an idea the mind possesses, but it is an idea that possesses the mind] So they've confined you in a cocoon. Took your will, so there lies no way; Stole your sleep so you cannot dream any more; Broke your wings so you cannot fly high. Thus the sky being the limit, remains as just that-a phrase, a target never to be reached-a fantasy.

So let us PREACH, that which they never said at that crusade; TEACH, what we'd never hear in the confines of four walls; TELL what their minds have held for so long, yet their lips wont utter.

THIS IS, to the old man; that cunning jackal clothed in sheep-skin, preaching fear disguised as wisdom to the young with a hunger for more. THIS IS, to the girlfriends; those women filled with pride and personal vanity [often mistaken by their peers for class] that endeavour to reveal deceit characterised in false love, even where true love prevails in the good girl's relationship. THIS IS, to the people; those that have been cheated so many times that they now believe the truth doesn't exist, so they don't see a man of wisdom, nor a woman with vision-they see another politician-no distinction!

we're THE YOUTH, FREE yourself from the norm!

Just a thought..

He's poor, She's rich. He's clever,
She's dumb. He's right-She was wrong!
He's smooth, She's a whore...but look in
the mirror, who are you?
                                                   kinoti

I AM

Is it not because of what i see
that's why i feel?
i mean, this is me, this' 
who I AM;
human! is to error
Yet i give myself up, the sacrifice.
will he accept it? see past the blemish?

My grandma tell me i cannot accept
who I AM;
living in the present, while i pain from the past.
Dark days.. tense experiences.
Horrid images i see each time i shut my eyes,
each time i looked in the mirror
questions lingered;
Isn't this who I AM?
No! No! 
More fresh wounds and cuts
blessing and a curse, less blessed than am cursed,
that's what i feel
I AM;
a gift from the gods!
cast on this earth, these wretched grounds
always towing chains, enslaved by the angels
no man deserves me!

               
               All writes reserved to the poet  J.Kinoti.M
                                    Copyright. 7th March 2011



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