random thoughts of a tapered brain

poem

Hymm to Isis………3rd or 4th century B.C.

For I am the first and the last

I am the venerated and the despised

I am the prostitute and the saint

I am the wife and the virgin

I am the mother and the daughter

I am the arms of my mother

I am barren and my children are many

I am the married woman and the spinster

I am the woman who gives birth and she who never procreated

I am the consolation for the pain of birth

I am the wife and the husband

And it was my man who created me

I am the mother of my father

I am the sister of my husband

And he is my rejected son

Always respect me

For I am the shameful and the magnificent one…….

TAFAKARI HAYO……….


“THE DESIDERATA” AND THE “IF POEM”

step into any living room and i bet you will find an array of hangings neatly(or not- disaster!) arranged on the wall. all holding onto the nail for dear life. they range from real paintings to some huge canvas mural of unicorn-like horses.

most conspicous definetely must be the the desiderata. others were those that had bibilical messages “äs for me and my family…….” and the one about how When you did not see two sets of footprints on the sand,as was the norm, it was when God lifted you.

desiderata

The desiderata in particular “ilinichanga kichwa” a lot. that was long before my brains nerve endings started shooting straight. words were hard to comprehend, and when mixed with colour and art – it was indeed rocket science.

to date though, the one that i have read and still rings loud in my head is one authored by Rudyard Kipling of the Jungle book fame. he wrote a simple poem titled the “If Poem”.

words if arranged in the right places, with commas and fullstops coming at the right time produces something like this……(def with invested intellect)

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master,
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)


…WHY???? POEM…

Why do guys who get into mats with this big azz screen all act as if its not present. Everybody looks down, outside, fidgets with their phones; anywhere but the flashy screen. kama wimbo imekubamba, just watch, sii ushamba!!!! I’m reliably told that they have no hypnotic effect – we are safe.

In keeping with matters public transport, why don’t people ever learn not to pick their phone on the side adjacent to the windows? I’ve crammed the faces of the thieves on the stretch between ngara and K.I.E.  Everyday another person falls prey to them grabbers; it happens so fast.

Why do people*especially ladies* board matatus with a packet of freshly fried fries. At 4 effing PM!!! Surely…were you that hungry, on-the-verge-of-death hungry? Today I sat next to one; she slowly picked each slice and was rather unaware of the rest of us. The shocking thing was that after her starchy meal she dived straight into the land of snooze, occasionally banging her head on my shoulder. How now!!!!!

Why is it this freaking cold? Goodness, we seem to be getting a harsh tutorial on the effects of climate change. Brain freeze will soon become reality temperatures dip any further. What did we do to deserve this? Al Gore was right after all.

Why do the days feel so long and the nights shorter? I don’t seem to get enough sleep these days. I swear before I started working I didn’t  love my bed this much. I would sleep at dark hours and still get up early. Somebody messed with time!

Why do ladies always carry colorful water bottles around? Do they really drink its contents? Or is it just another fad milked dry in typical Kenyan fashion? Safaricom furnishes each of its employees with one and neatly embosses their names on them – who would pinch a green bottle?

Why do people look at you funnily if you read a novel in the mat? Is it that abnormal to read anything other than a newspaper? I bet they are all sited there waiting for you to ask for your change in heavy twanged English!

Why is access Kenya messing up my life? Send somebody here to fix my damn internet!!

Why is it that as my pals enjoy a whole day off tomorrow, I have to go to work at 5pm till 6am? My first nightshift ever! Let’s see how it goes; where’s my stash o’coffee?

Why am I even writing this?