Blood

My flesh, my blood, I adore,

my bones, my whole, my core,

what would I do without you,

Even the edges of blue,

know,

My commitment and devotion,

to you I owe,

My sense of indebtedness to the parts of you that made me,
You that gives freely, that which never runs out,

You that gives love meaning,

My pride, my honor,
My virtue, and a sense of purpose,
All that is me from you,
You, that fire that it ignites
That passion that burns fierce,
That which frees me, that which has I anchored deep in your potent roots of benevolence and unwavering adoration,

Where I belong,

My flesh, my blood, my home.

Waiting

Ash that cigarette,

Feel your skin sag,

you could say everything is alright,

so you bend your sight to the left,

be there for a moment,

Watch a speck of dust settling,

you’ve always been here,

wishing that the sun would shine underwater,

or the escaping echoes would revibrate back to there sources,

but the silence overcomes,

silence should make you articulate,

but out of nothing is nothing your eyes speak,

The living say,

impractical isn’t what you only are,

so you take a peek at what should be yours,

it is safe this way,

hands can’t be trusted on fragility,

your legs crossed, sweaty palms on thighs,

enjoying the sight behind a shut window,

There , watching, waiting,

waiting for the moment

A response to ‘The Traveling Salesman.’

I walk further along the beach, to the muffle part of the shingle

I sit there and wait for a moment’s pass, wait for a trick,

And with a moanful sigh,

I draw in enough breathes to make a wish, for the night is here again,

The night dispirits the feeling spirits, and feeds off innocence,

Raises the abyss amongst the living, condemning men to hopelessness,

It is perfectness, perfectness that cuts,

An Incubus feeding on emptiness,

Now, the residences of you ‘Tshebo’  is faintly felt,

All is anarchy, and black won’t always be black really,

I have discerned this,

Never when patience is a taboo,

And abhor depicts profound passion than love,

That hearts turn to a clammy stone,

And comfort is met by an unjustified agony

I coddle in my compulsions, something to help escape,

Something to give me the safe-haven I die for,

To confront the soft onslaught of the dreams,

To induce the utopia,

Reality is all but a gloom,

a flickering hope is all but a substance needs,

Rest is easy, rest easy is all I wish for,

They speak I should transpire powerful than this,

That if I break, I am condemned to shame,

The darkness call and I  feel my soul levitate,

The choice to hid to its motion,

To peace, silence and none aspiration,

I still displease, falling below expectation,

It overwhelms the spirit to fight the fight,

And recycles the pain over and over again,

Although Freedom Calls and ‘sanctification’ has become the veil to conceal its authentic designs,

It’s sight, a poison to the lusting eyes,

It breaks it down, ripping it off complacency,

It doesn’t bear me the part of the very edges that makes human,

It is what crowns dignity, that is robbed,

This capacity to communicate pain and pleasure,

Forming relations are all novel,

Yet it terrifies to be human still,

So I make a wish,

And the soft, gentle breeze whispers in my ears,

‘The night shall end too,’

For there is comfort in this deep knowledge familiar,

That the spirit will endure, and sentience honed,

I have lived through this one, I can survive it again,

I tell myself, my throat aching.

 

K.k

Spring

The smells of the sweet fragrance are it not what gives a clue?
Spring is here, and all the colors have come with it,
A new cycle of life, the mark of happiness and joy,
That resurrects and fills the fields with a little feel of flimsy freedom,
Don’t you love sanguine?
The melodies in the air that seduces your soul to youthfulness?
The frailness of the beautiful flowers?
The echoes of new life forming?
Does it all fill your eyes with a yearning of more?
The climax at the beginning does it leave you scared?
That this very nourishing cure of the soul will end at a bore?
Beauty the grandeur of life is measured,
Have it all, while it lasts,
May it blossom in you, with a last.

In these very moments breathes are chilly,

holding on for that second to last a little longer,

for that experience,

that heaven of feels,

sights to bridge our souls to something greater than our singular I,

Praying, making a sacrifice of our breathes to the master of time,

a few days breathes can do,

just for more of this…

Long live the lie

Tell me why I still feel human,

I thought ‘Truth’ took care of me,

and love betrayed me,

Now my passion and desires feel stupid cheap,

and the love i wished to feel is buried along with ‘Truth’,

long live The Lie,

Hail Hail Hail you,

You the king in darkness,

you whom found me a befitting mask,

a mark to keep me chained,

I gave you  the keys,

I knew you would rule over me one day,

long live the Lie,

when outside calls for me,

I will go before you bearing the purple flag,

Infecting all my virtues,

Making a promise out of each of my cornerstones,

Long live The Lie,

Long live The Lie,

Long live The Lie,

A man is ruled by his passions.

Be My Valentine

Hey lady!

I have but noticed how much your lips taste,

when you part them together like that..

I love cherries you should know,

I am sorry but my french hasn’t been in use lately,

Lets talk about it in a way that our lips would mutely spell lust,

Maybe touch me with all the lady like look, upon those eyes I want you to feel the entirety of this handsome face,

They say a man should avow his opinions and defend them in boldness,

I have all that tucked inside for you,

Hey I propose we move on to a coffee date or forever,

Hey I know, You know if it feels good then it must be bad really bad.

Aboi Toti.

A prickle

Holding on to your tentacles,
Happy to be drowned in your sea of love,
You unmoved beast, I wish of joy,
Take me, Take me you the beauty in darkness,
Take me as I am, as you always do,
Make me pay with my fears,
As you always do,
Maybe then, maybe that way,
I’ll experience courage in the face of this one last desolation,
‘nd I’ll wear a face of satisfaction,
one last time, love for you,
Love for you a prickle,
Small price to pay.

She

I am falling for a girl behind a screen
She the particular she I know not so much ’bout
Her steals my heart from my love
I am left in a trance of confusion
Each time I go through my phone
She is everywhere that kind she is here not there
She leaves me not at least my mind
I am sucker to her concealed identity that I fail to uncover
It is same like I know her but her not
There is a thing with her body that tares up my boxers
I don’t fail to notice her booty
I don’t fail to see her lips pressed against mine
I don’t fail to see through her smile
She got an air of mystery round her and each time I breath and take her in
My lungs,my heart,my soul can’t take it in
It is some juju that makes me want her in my hands,my bed and my life
Mysterious is she
I never believe in superstition but…

©kevin Koech