A continuing dialogue

When I am naked,
in the close recesses of my mind,
when i am bare,
without cloth,
or corrupted thought,
I think. I think a lot.

I find myself here in this green earth,
this fertile land of mud huts and fertile green,
the natural motherland bearing fruit.
plus two five four, tells my story.
I tell this story to search for myself,
I see myself in you.

I am the voice of Dedan.
I am the voice of Tom Mboya.
I am the voice of mama Africa.
Look at me. Listen.

Your fore-fathers did not fight for this land with efforts futile,
and when they were laid to rest, they still rest in this soil-fertile,
fertile with the strength and courage hidden deep,
deep inside the souls of the true inheritance that we want to keep,
keeping a concealed realization that we ought to carry the flame,
voice our speech so that our ears can pay attention,
to the messages intended to chase away the tension,
of getting lost in today's world, the material flame,
it burns degrees, and it destroys the place we call home.
We look at you, and we hid warnings.
You can do better.
Always.

I find myself here in this green earth,
this fertile land of mud huts and fertile green.
Of dust too.
And the big five.
This is the place I call home.
Remember to carry your weapons, whatever they may be.
Blunt knives. Clenched feasts. AK's and 9 mm's.
This is still the rebellion!
I speak metaphorically, in the real sense I mean carry your wisdom.
That is the only weapon we trully need.
To sift the unwanted weeds,
to plant the much needed seed.

I mean to say this is a war.
We might win a few battles,
but the war remains a reality.
Slavery and slave ships,
money, cars and clothes in the 'babylon' system,
symbolizing false pretenses and warped illusions,
thats why I detest them.
Thats why I stick to my guns.
My guns are of pure conscience.
My bullets are made of love,
ask material science.
Or metaphysics,
she might enlighten you with some few years,
to peruse the past and stumble upon some truth.

Yet again,
they will ask you those questions,
like . . . what did you live for?
what do you want to die for?

My heart is in my home.
Neither East nor West.
My true allegiance is for progression.
Of the world.
and of my people.
My brother and sister.
Tredding this earth.
We have to spread the message of love.
Before its too late for facebook
or handles.

Mean Averages.

These words, they mean much,
When the equals and additions are calculated,
the average leaves you craving unabated,
for better words and better pictures,
3D vision behind those goggles,
and you might even google the words, Picasso,
at times you yearn for good music,
Gershwin,
compose compositions to reach lofty heights,
perhaps even push and shove,
for your metaphors to be exposed,
or to conduct an expose on your subliminal thoughts,
characters and persona hidden deep inside your thoughts,
different experiences and worldviews,
nature and nurtured into your self expression.
Let your soul explode and your heart to be mindful,
of who you are and what you like,
what you strive should be more to life,
behind the 1st impressions and common strife,
to find more meaning to what this life,
its beauty and magnificence sprawling wide,
look into the sky and nature and you will find,
the mathematical equations and natural music of the wild,
and the binding juice that is finding truce,
I mean inner peace and truth,
of real happiness and in depth fulfilment.
I train my brain to be ambiguous,
to live without confinement,
to the baseless norms and 'refinements',
that clog the brain and kill the nervous bombardment,
I reference the nervous system,
As it is the heart of the body,
to the left to the left, and to the right of the left,
ambidextrous natures tend to 'change the world'
leaving us with legacies to share among generations.
"I want to be like you when I grow up", we say
Then we hibernate in our cocoons as if to say
the price . . . we cannot pay.
What we need in actuality,
is to stray from the practicality,
of the easy way out,
break the norms and be above average,
1st percentile quarters should be our aim,
for what we have inside us is a gold mine,
and a small little flame which can light stronger,
we say "haba na haba hujaza kibaba" -
a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step,
into the cosmic possibilities of our internal galaxy,
many moons we hope to see,
and we hope archeology can dig out the hidden treasures,
to merge the present and the past,
the dark shadows to uncast,
from our mental casts that trap our broken brains,
more of untested brains,
stretch the envelope of oblangata,
and free yourself to thought.
Oh happy I am for finfing the keys,
to the doors of unlimited opportunities and capabilities,
in front of me and inside of me. You too.
You too.
These words, they mean much.
They will upgrade your average into something mean-ingful.