It's been nice and, let me say, encouraging to have had your company for most of this year. It has been a pleasure to have been writing my blog posts for your eyes only: I have loved it every bit of the way.
Why am I writing all this? Is it that I am throwing in the towel on blogging and indirectly bidding you goodbye?
No, never! Once you have been bitten by the blog bug it becomes pretty difficult to wean yourself off blogging. It is one of the best addictions I have seen around for a long time (at least better than drug addiction, what do you reckon?).
The reason for writing this: I'll be travelling upcountry to visit family during this festive season. For this reason, I'll not be able to blog for a week or so.
"Why?" you ask.
The 'upcountry' where I am travelling to is not well served with Internet facilities. Internet 'access points' are few and far between. Anyway, I'll miss you all.
Feel free to visit my other blogs (links below):
African Affairs
Career and Workplace
Fgm: Down With It!
Finally, I wish you a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year. Till we meet again: Take care and God bless you!
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Friday, December 15, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
A Fly in the Soup
Diner: Bring me some soup and make sure a fly isn't in it. When I ate lunch here yesterday, there was a fly in my soup!
Waiter: Oh, that can't happen today, sir, because our special is frogs' legs.
Diner: What's today's special have to do with a fly in my soup?
Waiter: Before the chef cooked the frogs, they ate every fly in the place.
.........................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup.
Waiter: Don't worry, sir. The spider on the bread will eat it.
............................
Diner: Waiter, there's a roach in my soup and he's drowning.
Waiter: Well, sir, shall I teach him how to swim or strap a life preserver on his back?
..............................
Diner: There's a fly in the bottom of my teacup, waiter. What does this mean?
Waiter: How do I know? I am a waiter not a fortune teller.
..................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: That's alright, sir. He won't drink much.
.......................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a dead fly in my soup.
Waiter: What do you want us to do – have a funeral?
...................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: I've been looking all over for him.
.........................................
Diner: Waiter, why are these flies in my soup?
Waiter: Because we're all out of DDT, so we decided to drown them.
.........................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: All right, I'll get you a fork.
............................................
Diner: Hey, waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: Shh! Everybody will want one.
...............................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: What did you expect with the cheap dinner – a hummingbird?
...........................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: Ah, cornered at last!
...............................................
Waiter: Oh, that can't happen today, sir, because our special is frogs' legs.
Diner: What's today's special have to do with a fly in my soup?
Waiter: Before the chef cooked the frogs, they ate every fly in the place.
.........................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup.
Waiter: Don't worry, sir. The spider on the bread will eat it.
............................
Diner: Waiter, there's a roach in my soup and he's drowning.
Waiter: Well, sir, shall I teach him how to swim or strap a life preserver on his back?
..............................
Diner: There's a fly in the bottom of my teacup, waiter. What does this mean?
Waiter: How do I know? I am a waiter not a fortune teller.
..................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: That's alright, sir. He won't drink much.
.......................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a dead fly in my soup.
Waiter: What do you want us to do – have a funeral?
...................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: I've been looking all over for him.
.........................................
Diner: Waiter, why are these flies in my soup?
Waiter: Because we're all out of DDT, so we decided to drown them.
.........................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: All right, I'll get you a fork.
............................................
Diner: Hey, waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: Shh! Everybody will want one.
...............................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: What did you expect with the cheap dinner – a hummingbird?
...........................................
Diner: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!
Waiter: Ah, cornered at last!
...............................................
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A Slip of the Tongue
In the shoes of a teacher whose tongue did a jumble, in front of the whole school and parents on closing day, when he was reading the marks of the pupils for all present to hear.
'Twas on closing day,
When my tongue did a jumble,
Not my liking, I suppose,
But it did all the same.
'Stood up to read the marks,
And I called parents pupils,
Tried again, stammering,
But it didn't help a thing.
Okay, I was corrected,
And called parents parents,
I could see them smiling,
Smiling at my slip.
'Asked them to forgive me,
For I would read in Kiswahili,
There again my tongue somersaulted,
This time my face felt hot.
I don't know what they thought of me,
A tall, good-for-nothing teacher, maybe,
But one thing I know, surely,
All of us 've had a slip one time or the other.
'Twas on closing day,
When my tongue did a jumble,
Not my liking, I suppose,
But it did all the same.
'Stood up to read the marks,
And I called parents pupils,
Tried again, stammering,
But it didn't help a thing.
Okay, I was corrected,
And called parents parents,
I could see them smiling,
Smiling at my slip.
'Asked them to forgive me,
For I would read in Kiswahili,
There again my tongue somersaulted,
This time my face felt hot.
I don't know what they thought of me,
A tall, good-for-nothing teacher, maybe,
But one thing I know, surely,
All of us 've had a slip one time or the other.
Please Forgive Me
These are the words of a man asking for forgiveness from a woman. It takes loads and loads of guts for a man to ask for forgiveness from a woman. Most men believe asking for forgiveness, especially from a woman, is stooping too low and that it is a sign of subservience. However, I say, men of honour admit when they are wrong and, unabashedly, ask for forgiveness (even from women!)
I am lost for words,
Because of how I played my cards,
It's a real shame,
To even imagine.
'can't imagine,
That I did it,
To no one but you,
I simply can't imagine:
To you,
Whom yours is mine,
And mine yours,
I did such a damn thing.
How could I break your heart?
I know it hurt,
Right betwixt and between,
The wound and the flesh.
Oh, please do for...
'can't bring myself,
To say what I must,
(Though, I really mean it),
Please honour my request.
Don't shame me this once,
Lend me a listening ear,
Right, are you set?
Let me spill the beans.
I verily entreat you,
And earnestly ask,
Do forgive me,
Please forgive me:
Oh please do...
I am lost for words,
Because of how I played my cards,
It's a real shame,
To even imagine.
'can't imagine,
That I did it,
To no one but you,
I simply can't imagine:
To you,
Whom yours is mine,
And mine yours,
I did such a damn thing.
How could I break your heart?
I know it hurt,
Right betwixt and between,
The wound and the flesh.
Oh, please do for...
'can't bring myself,
To say what I must,
(Though, I really mean it),
Please honour my request.
Don't shame me this once,
Lend me a listening ear,
Right, are you set?
Let me spill the beans.
I verily entreat you,
And earnestly ask,
Do forgive me,
Please forgive me:
Oh please do...
Love
Eyes meet,
Hearts soften,
Softer than butter;
The heat in the bowels,
Melts the heart,
And it starts flowing,
All over,
Down to the legs;
Weakening them,
To the hands;
Making them do the works,
That no other can,
To the head;
Making it dizzy,
To the eyes;
You go crazy.
The melt heart,
Flows out to the other,
Eye talking to eye,
Wanting only the best,
The very best,
For the other.
Hearts soften,
Softer than butter;
The heat in the bowels,
Melts the heart,
And it starts flowing,
All over,
Down to the legs;
Weakening them,
To the hands;
Making them do the works,
That no other can,
To the head;
Making it dizzy,
To the eyes;
You go crazy.
The melt heart,
Flows out to the other,
Eye talking to eye,
Wanting only the best,
The very best,
For the other.
Do You Really Know?
Do you know,
Really know,
What you think,
You know,
Really know?
Maybe you just think,
That you know,
When you don't know,
What you know,
And what you really don't know.
So do you think,
That you can know,
What you really,
Don't know,
When you don't want to know,
That you don't know;
And that you will only know,
When you accept that you,
Really don't know.
So do you really know?
Really know,
What you think,
You know,
Really know?
Maybe you just think,
That you know,
When you don't know,
What you know,
And what you really don't know.
So do you think,
That you can know,
What you really,
Don't know,
When you don't want to know,
That you don't know;
And that you will only know,
When you accept that you,
Really don't know.
So do you really know?
Nail on the Head
When people want to say something,
They beat about the bush,
They don't want to push,
They feel it's not posh.
I reprimand 'em,
In the harshest of terms;
If you want something,
Get it without thumping.
If you so do,
You'll reduce alot of loops,
Which form the nooks,
That destroy our looks.
They beat about the bush,
They don't want to push,
They feel it's not posh.
I reprimand 'em,
In the harshest of terms;
If you want something,
Get it without thumping.
If you so do,
You'll reduce alot of loops,
Which form the nooks,
That destroy our looks.
School
When early I wake,
The trudge at stake,
The shoes at flake,
For school, I take.
When my time I take,
To get to the gate,
The prefect on date,
Records my fate.
When we start the day,
The teacher on stay,
Keeps laziness at bay,
By shunning play.
At the end of the spell,
Of education's well,
We feel swell,
In the power of school.
The trudge at stake,
The shoes at flake,
For school, I take.
When my time I take,
To get to the gate,
The prefect on date,
Records my fate.
When we start the day,
The teacher on stay,
Keeps laziness at bay,
By shunning play.
At the end of the spell,
Of education's well,
We feel swell,
In the power of school.
Your Eyes
Your eyes look, blink,
How wonderful your face is,
With your small, white, oval,
Distinctive feature of your,
Round face,
Your Eyes.
What a magnet they have,
They look, a sweet smile,
On your face;
I was captivated, enthralled,
Brought closer, eye talking to eye,
Fell on your bosom and kissed you.
Your breath was heavy,
As we breathed vigorously,
And our hands doing the works,
That no other could do;
Jaded and out of breath,
We fell on the grass,
I thinking of only,
Your eyes.
How wonderful your face is,
With your small, white, oval,
Distinctive feature of your,
Round face,
Your Eyes.
What a magnet they have,
They look, a sweet smile,
On your face;
I was captivated, enthralled,
Brought closer, eye talking to eye,
Fell on your bosom and kissed you.
Your breath was heavy,
As we breathed vigorously,
And our hands doing the works,
That no other could do;
Jaded and out of breath,
We fell on the grass,
I thinking of only,
Your eyes.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Morning Cold
Just like a soldier,
Ready with a gun,
So is the cold,
Ready for me.
When I awake,
And, blankets I strew,
It pounces and says,"Ahoy there."
It seeps through my bones.
I shudder, cringe and cower,
With teeth chattering like a mower,
Goose pimples are the evidence,
Of this monster: Morning cold!
Ready with a gun,
So is the cold,
Ready for me.
When I awake,
And, blankets I strew,
It pounces and says,"Ahoy there."
It seeps through my bones.
I shudder, cringe and cower,
With teeth chattering like a mower,
Goose pimples are the evidence,
Of this monster: Morning cold!
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
A Sentimental Village Dam
A narrow path leads to this beautiful expanse. Nature's blended beauty. At the end of the path is a big, green clearing.
At the far end, lies a small expanse of muddy-brown water – where grazing cattle saunter to quench their thirst. They slosh, splash, and even venture to graze on the grass floating lazily on the water.
Just where the path joins this expanse, sit them – the boys. Boys, who undoubtedly have thrown all caution to the winds, sit there chitchatting and spinning yarns. Some of them lie with their bellies on the green carpet as they enjoy everything that is going on.
A joke is taken up, tossed about until the air hangs down heavily with laughter. Their raucous, guttural laughs reverberate throughout the field.
The colour of their clothes blends with that of the water: brown and dirty. One of the boys sports a dirty-brown headband whose original colour was white. In between their chitchat, they throw casual glances at the cattle they brought to graze, and then, retiredly, plunge back into their rigmarole.
To the extreme left of the field, are women waiting for their clothes to dry. These clothes billow in the cool breeze that caresses the surface of the green beauty from time to time. The ocean-blue sky is sprinkled with sparse white sailing boats that move with the breeze.
On the opposite side of the green expanse, is a line of trees that get nourishment from this muddy-brown water. These trees bow to let the breeze pass as it carries the secret of the green expanse far and wide.
The sun sends out its rays, soft rays, to touch and caress the beautiful green grass. When you sit on this velvet-soft grass, your mind floods with memories. Memories which are more than stories. Fond memories of how you spent your time, with a lass, kissing her sensuous lips, in the yellow moonlight beside this expanse of water which is a dam to more than many. Memories of when you once would sit on the grass, a pen in hand, and pen many a poem drawing courage and inspiration from this scenic 'conglomeration'.
At the far end, lies a small expanse of muddy-brown water – where grazing cattle saunter to quench their thirst. They slosh, splash, and even venture to graze on the grass floating lazily on the water.
Just where the path joins this expanse, sit them – the boys. Boys, who undoubtedly have thrown all caution to the winds, sit there chitchatting and spinning yarns. Some of them lie with their bellies on the green carpet as they enjoy everything that is going on.
A joke is taken up, tossed about until the air hangs down heavily with laughter. Their raucous, guttural laughs reverberate throughout the field.
The colour of their clothes blends with that of the water: brown and dirty. One of the boys sports a dirty-brown headband whose original colour was white. In between their chitchat, they throw casual glances at the cattle they brought to graze, and then, retiredly, plunge back into their rigmarole.
To the extreme left of the field, are women waiting for their clothes to dry. These clothes billow in the cool breeze that caresses the surface of the green beauty from time to time. The ocean-blue sky is sprinkled with sparse white sailing boats that move with the breeze.
On the opposite side of the green expanse, is a line of trees that get nourishment from this muddy-brown water. These trees bow to let the breeze pass as it carries the secret of the green expanse far and wide.
The sun sends out its rays, soft rays, to touch and caress the beautiful green grass. When you sit on this velvet-soft grass, your mind floods with memories. Memories which are more than stories. Fond memories of how you spent your time, with a lass, kissing her sensuous lips, in the yellow moonlight beside this expanse of water which is a dam to more than many. Memories of when you once would sit on the grass, a pen in hand, and pen many a poem drawing courage and inspiration from this scenic 'conglomeration'.
Love In Disguise?
Abstruse, obscure, recondite, name it:
'T rankles in my mind and soul;
Now I feel a fool,
And, to contend with it, I have.
In the absence of the lass,
I feel nothing but gas,
Lighting up my inner man,
And soar high up, I do.
In the presence of the lass,
I feel nothing, totally nothing,
Only curt responses and nods,
'Stain' our communion.
In the absence of the lass,
Her picture: radiant, alive,
Floats before my mind's eye,
Sate, I smile warmly.
In the presence of the lass,
Pictures of this and whatever,
Float before my mind's eye,
Discreetly, politely, I look away.
In the absence of the lass,
I tell myself "I'll surely tell her,
That tremors she causes in me."
I'll surely say: "I love you."
In the presence of the lass,
Nothing is given away,
No emotion, no feeling,
Only a cold, unresponsive duo.
Surely, this is eating at me,
Eating, tearing at my every fibre,
Someone please do tell me,
Can this be termed 'Love in disguise?'
'T rankles in my mind and soul;
Now I feel a fool,
And, to contend with it, I have.
In the absence of the lass,
I feel nothing but gas,
Lighting up my inner man,
And soar high up, I do.
In the presence of the lass,
I feel nothing, totally nothing,
Only curt responses and nods,
'Stain' our communion.
In the absence of the lass,
Her picture: radiant, alive,
Floats before my mind's eye,
Sate, I smile warmly.
In the presence of the lass,
Pictures of this and whatever,
Float before my mind's eye,
Discreetly, politely, I look away.
In the absence of the lass,
I tell myself "I'll surely tell her,
That tremors she causes in me."
I'll surely say: "I love you."
In the presence of the lass,
Nothing is given away,
No emotion, no feeling,
Only a cold, unresponsive duo.
Surely, this is eating at me,
Eating, tearing at my every fibre,
Someone please do tell me,
Can this be termed 'Love in disguise?'
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Gossip: The Art of Twisting Words
Dedicated to the women who live next door (my neighbours); Dedicated to the men who behave like these neighbours of mine; Dedicated to all those who've, painstakingly, learnt the art of twisting words!
Women gather,
Mouths twitching,
Tongues softening,
Ready for the long,
Volley of words,
They will partake.
So and So is,
Such and Such was,
When and What will,
Tongues flip,
Mouths untiring,
A glass of water does the trick.
Someone said:
Gossip is one way of getting info,
(But) If you sip it,
You might buy a pig in a poke,
A big, black, lard-laden pig!
How twisted the alphabet is!
How twisted the world is!
How twisted our meeting places are!
How twisted our agenda is!
The how, the where and the what are all damn twisted.
Women gather,
Mouths twitching,
Tongues softening,
Ready for the long,
Volley of words,
They will partake.
So and So is,
Such and Such was,
When and What will,
Tongues flip,
Mouths untiring,
A glass of water does the trick.
Someone said:
Gossip is one way of getting info,
(But) If you sip it,
You might buy a pig in a poke,
A big, black, lard-laden pig!
How twisted the alphabet is!
How twisted the world is!
How twisted our meeting places are!
How twisted our agenda is!
The how, the where and the what are all damn twisted.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Black, Bleak Christmas
This poem (which I wrote in 1999) is in memory of my uncle who was murdered in Nairobi in the same year. He was one of the actors in the Vioja Mahakamani show on KBC. His name (on the set) was "Mutiso". His real name was " Peter Kimunio". My mother died two months before him. To both of you, I miss you.
'Twas on twenty first of December,
The year nineteen hundred and ninety nine,
When my dear charming uncle, Mutiso,
Gave up his ghost to the unknown.
'Heard over the T.V,
That he was murdered,
By unknown assailants,
Just outside his house.
Oh no!
They should have let you,
See Christmas,
Or even the new millenium.
Why did they come for you?
Why had you done to them?
Or is it devilish envy,
Of your superb acting capabilities?
It surely is a black Christmas for us,
And all those who knew you,
As for me,
It is double black.
My mum and you,
Have gone away,
In the course of this year,
That surely is double black.
May those who killed you, uncle,
Be caught up by the law,
May they not know peace,
Someone agree with me, please!
'Twas on twenty first of December,
The year nineteen hundred and ninety nine,
When my dear charming uncle, Mutiso,
Gave up his ghost to the unknown.
'Heard over the T.V,
That he was murdered,
By unknown assailants,
Just outside his house.
Oh no!
They should have let you,
See Christmas,
Or even the new millenium.
Why did they come for you?
Why had you done to them?
Or is it devilish envy,
Of your superb acting capabilities?
It surely is a black Christmas for us,
And all those who knew you,
As for me,
It is double black.
My mum and you,
Have gone away,
In the course of this year,
That surely is double black.
May those who killed you, uncle,
Be caught up by the law,
May they not know peace,
Someone agree with me, please!
Welling Memories
Tears welled in my eyes,
As I thought,
Of memories long gone,
Memories that still linger.
I was once,
A small boy of pity,
Who was helpless,
And depended, for support, on mother.
When the boy next door,
Came brandishing his fist,
I scurried to mother calling,
And only insulted at her side.
I was jeered at,
By other boys,
Who had the energy to waste,
Playing their dirty paper ball!
The slightest,
Bullying and punching,
Broke my heart of glass,
And hot tears streamed my cheeks.
How vulnerable I was,
How puerile, really,
Least did I know,
It was the 'naturalest' of things.
But now I am old,
I know it so very well,
That struggle is the purpose,
Of our mortal lives.
That is the lesson,
Of growing from childhood,
To the 'adult world',
I know it only too well.
As I thought,
Of memories long gone,
Memories that still linger.
I was once,
A small boy of pity,
Who was helpless,
And depended, for support, on mother.
When the boy next door,
Came brandishing his fist,
I scurried to mother calling,
And only insulted at her side.
I was jeered at,
By other boys,
Who had the energy to waste,
Playing their dirty paper ball!
The slightest,
Bullying and punching,
Broke my heart of glass,
And hot tears streamed my cheeks.
How vulnerable I was,
How puerile, really,
Least did I know,
It was the 'naturalest' of things.
But now I am old,
I know it so very well,
That struggle is the purpose,
Of our mortal lives.
That is the lesson,
Of growing from childhood,
To the 'adult world',
I know it only too well.
If That's What It Takes
Time and again,
I have been told,
"Men never cry,
They brave it courageously."
Men are the leaders,
The heads with heads,
As hard as stone,
That will never crack.
But least do they know,
That they also have emotions,
Without a cry they might fry,
In the pan of insanity.
If that's what it takes,
To become a man,
I had better become a free bird,
Which isn't as bird.
I have been told,
"Men never cry,
They brave it courageously."
Men are the leaders,
The heads with heads,
As hard as stone,
That will never crack.
But least do they know,
That they also have emotions,
Without a cry they might fry,
In the pan of insanity.
If that's what it takes,
To become a man,
I had better become a free bird,
Which isn't as bird.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The Failure Syndrome: Don't Let It Infect You
When you mention failure, some people cringe, some cower and others twist their noses in a manner likely to suggest that failure is not their lot in life (and can never even dare come their way!). What sanctimonious pride!
There have been hyped messages suggesting (even dragging it to the "fact" list) that failure is part of life. Some have even gone to the extent of quoting what famous men (Sir Winston Churchill and his ilk) said about failure and take it that without failure one is as good as dead.
Being puffed up with the pride of knowing as many quotes as possible on failure and saying that you "fail forwards on the road to success" while, in essence, you are doing nothing to salvage matters, will not, and does not, help save face.
To come to terms with failure, we have to deal with the core causes first. We do court failure some of the time, giving it the time and space to bare its fangs. When we vacillate, its venom is injected into our systems paralyzing them.
Is failure staring you in the face?
Check these faucets:
Time:
How do you use your time? Time is one of the most precious things all people are equally endowed with. Use it wisely and prudently. Plan well to make maximum profits from time invested.
• Don't ruminate over 'tomorrow' today at the expense of what has to be accomplished 'today'. Otherwise, you'll spend your 'tomorrow' regretting why you didn't do what you ought to have done 'today'. That's a wasted resource that can never, ever, be recovered.
Opportunities:
The proverb 'Fortune knocks once at every man's door' has a subtle warning attached to it. Look at it twice and you'll see it: If you don't take up opportunity when it knocks, chances are that it won't come knocking again. Take opportunities for what they are: Gems on the scoreboard of success, and run with them to their utter limits.
Bulldog Tenacity:
• You have to relentlessly pursue opportunities and relationships that have positive impacts on you performance. Without such a quality, some obstacles would mean the end of your journey to success. Hold on, fight through (snarl, if you can) and victory is yours for the taking.
Relationships:
• No man is an island. You need people in order to advance your career. You need people to help you through. You need to lie on someone's shoulder for comfort and support. You desperately need people around you for approval (and criticism!)
• You can never wish to get the best from people around you if your relationship with them is shaky and feigned.
• Treat people well, show them that you care and you'll be surprised how they respond when you need them to help you out.
• Treating people well involves listening to them and valuing their input and effort.
Trust and Integrity:
Being a man or a woman of integrity will open many doors for you. This is simply because most people like associating with people whom they can trust (of course there are others who have an acrid view towards faithfulness and integrity).
• Let people trust you with their money, secrets and well being. You need this in your quest for success.
People's Mistakes:
• Try to know the reasons that made some people fail (in a certain venture, for instance) and purpose, with your heart of hearts, not to make the same mistakes. In essence, learn from other people's mistakes.
Failure is like a roaring lion that roams about seeking for prey to devour. At all costs, let the prey not be you.
There have been hyped messages suggesting (even dragging it to the "fact" list) that failure is part of life. Some have even gone to the extent of quoting what famous men (Sir Winston Churchill and his ilk) said about failure and take it that without failure one is as good as dead.
Being puffed up with the pride of knowing as many quotes as possible on failure and saying that you "fail forwards on the road to success" while, in essence, you are doing nothing to salvage matters, will not, and does not, help save face.
To come to terms with failure, we have to deal with the core causes first. We do court failure some of the time, giving it the time and space to bare its fangs. When we vacillate, its venom is injected into our systems paralyzing them.
Is failure staring you in the face?
Check these faucets:
Time:
How do you use your time? Time is one of the most precious things all people are equally endowed with. Use it wisely and prudently. Plan well to make maximum profits from time invested.
• Don't ruminate over 'tomorrow' today at the expense of what has to be accomplished 'today'. Otherwise, you'll spend your 'tomorrow' regretting why you didn't do what you ought to have done 'today'. That's a wasted resource that can never, ever, be recovered.
Opportunities:
The proverb 'Fortune knocks once at every man's door' has a subtle warning attached to it. Look at it twice and you'll see it: If you don't take up opportunity when it knocks, chances are that it won't come knocking again. Take opportunities for what they are: Gems on the scoreboard of success, and run with them to their utter limits.
Bulldog Tenacity:
• You have to relentlessly pursue opportunities and relationships that have positive impacts on you performance. Without such a quality, some obstacles would mean the end of your journey to success. Hold on, fight through (snarl, if you can) and victory is yours for the taking.
Relationships:
• No man is an island. You need people in order to advance your career. You need people to help you through. You need to lie on someone's shoulder for comfort and support. You desperately need people around you for approval (and criticism!)
• You can never wish to get the best from people around you if your relationship with them is shaky and feigned.
• Treat people well, show them that you care and you'll be surprised how they respond when you need them to help you out.
• Treating people well involves listening to them and valuing their input and effort.
Trust and Integrity:
Being a man or a woman of integrity will open many doors for you. This is simply because most people like associating with people whom they can trust (of course there are others who have an acrid view towards faithfulness and integrity).
• Let people trust you with their money, secrets and well being. You need this in your quest for success.
People's Mistakes:
• Try to know the reasons that made some people fail (in a certain venture, for instance) and purpose, with your heart of hearts, not to make the same mistakes. In essence, learn from other people's mistakes.
Failure is like a roaring lion that roams about seeking for prey to devour. At all costs, let the prey not be you.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Are you as good as your word?
Men and women of integrity are people of their word. As their word is, so is their action.
One of the easiest things to do on earth is to say you'll do something, while you have no intention of doing so. You say so just to put off a present pressure not thinking what your word will portend for you in future.
Is your yes a genuine yes? Is your no a genuine no? Do you say yes or no to foster a genuine cause or does the pit of your bowels quake, most of the time you use them, for you mean not what you say?
Pythagoras, the great Mathematician, said ' the oldest, shortest words – yes and no – are those which require the most thought. ' How very true!
When you say, "I'll stand by you come rain come high water", do you mean every bit of it? Do you suffer from bouts of vacillation once you set out to execute that which you say?
These are too many questions to answer at one sitting. Nevertheless, they are enough to drive a point home.
We must be mature enough to become accountable for our word – we must see that we keep it when we give it. Many people pile load after load of guilt upon themselves by not keeping their word, then wonder why they have ulcers, heart problems and motley of other problems.
Our word, when given, is a source of faith to those who receive it, and determines their conduct. When the word is not kept, unbelief develops.
Sometimes people who refuse to compromise truth or principle are viewed with contempt. People who are of questionable behaviour fear to associate themselves with men and women of integrity because they fear their unethical behaviour will be exposed.
Surely, light and darkness cannot be accommodated in the same room. One of them has to bow and leave. Incidentally, something worth noting here is that when light enters a dark room, the darkness has to flee; but darkness cannot dare enter a room that is well lighted. It goes to show that people of integrity are a force to reckon with.
Sadly, people of integrity and unquestionable principle are becoming rarer and rarer by the day. Countless numbers of men and women who were once famed for their integrity are opting for mediocre, second-rate lives (lives that are 'easier' to live as there is less accountability). In the long run respect, honour and moral uprightness are thrown out the window. But don't lie to yourself: you can never lie to your conscience. It will always remind you the wonderful path you forsook for God knows what reasons!
Your conscience is the most important thing you possess, second only to your soul. Guard it! Screen it! Unclog it! For heaven's sake, keep it
alive!
Remember:
• Standing for right when it's unpopular is a true test for moral character.
• Be more concerned with your character than with your reputation. Your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
• Hold yourself responsible for a higher standard than anybody expects of you. Never excuse yourself. Never pity yourself. Be a hard master to yourself; be lenient to everybody else.
• Excellence is the result of habitual integrity.
One of the easiest things to do on earth is to say you'll do something, while you have no intention of doing so. You say so just to put off a present pressure not thinking what your word will portend for you in future.
Is your yes a genuine yes? Is your no a genuine no? Do you say yes or no to foster a genuine cause or does the pit of your bowels quake, most of the time you use them, for you mean not what you say?
Pythagoras, the great Mathematician, said ' the oldest, shortest words – yes and no – are those which require the most thought. ' How very true!
When you say, "I'll stand by you come rain come high water", do you mean every bit of it? Do you suffer from bouts of vacillation once you set out to execute that which you say?
These are too many questions to answer at one sitting. Nevertheless, they are enough to drive a point home.
We must be mature enough to become accountable for our word – we must see that we keep it when we give it. Many people pile load after load of guilt upon themselves by not keeping their word, then wonder why they have ulcers, heart problems and motley of other problems.
Our word, when given, is a source of faith to those who receive it, and determines their conduct. When the word is not kept, unbelief develops.
Sometimes people who refuse to compromise truth or principle are viewed with contempt. People who are of questionable behaviour fear to associate themselves with men and women of integrity because they fear their unethical behaviour will be exposed.
Surely, light and darkness cannot be accommodated in the same room. One of them has to bow and leave. Incidentally, something worth noting here is that when light enters a dark room, the darkness has to flee; but darkness cannot dare enter a room that is well lighted. It goes to show that people of integrity are a force to reckon with.
Sadly, people of integrity and unquestionable principle are becoming rarer and rarer by the day. Countless numbers of men and women who were once famed for their integrity are opting for mediocre, second-rate lives (lives that are 'easier' to live as there is less accountability). In the long run respect, honour and moral uprightness are thrown out the window. But don't lie to yourself: you can never lie to your conscience. It will always remind you the wonderful path you forsook for God knows what reasons!
Your conscience is the most important thing you possess, second only to your soul. Guard it! Screen it! Unclog it! For heaven's sake, keep it
alive!
Remember:
• Standing for right when it's unpopular is a true test for moral character.
• Be more concerned with your character than with your reputation. Your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
• Hold yourself responsible for a higher standard than anybody expects of you. Never excuse yourself. Never pity yourself. Be a hard master to yourself; be lenient to everybody else.
• Excellence is the result of habitual integrity.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
The misconstrued facets of love
Sometimes I ask myself whether people really do know what love means. When I see how some men and women treat each other, I am left at crossroads not knowing what to think about the whole shebang.
Let's start from the root. What's love?
Check out this great post love and misconstruction and tell us what you think.
Let's start from the root. What's love?
Check out this great post love and misconstruction and tell us what you think.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The features of a joke
This is between you and me, there’s nothing as ‘dampening’ as telling a joke and having to explain it to bring about its risible effects. A joke is something to be given full rein – if they don’t understand it, leave it alone and move on
A Joke
A joke is taken up,
swished about,
Its fire stoked,
And its fur stroked.
It descends,
Ready to cause uproar,
Where there was a sore,
Eating up the inner core.
A feeling creeps through,
A funny feeling,
Then the bowels boil over and shake,
Then its steamy broth begins to 'flake'.
Laughter is what it's called,
The hot, steamy broth.
A Joke
A joke is taken up,
swished about,
Its fire stoked,
And its fur stroked.
It descends,
Ready to cause uproar,
Where there was a sore,
Eating up the inner core.
A feeling creeps through,
A funny feeling,
Then the bowels boil over and shake,
Then its steamy broth begins to 'flake'.
Laughter is what it's called,
The hot, steamy broth.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Ladies and their woes
Of men who promise marriage, but all the
while what they want is…
You bet I know what I am talking about here. I am miffed by the way some men treat ladies. You may throw all Beijing 'blue blistering barnacles' (remember Captain H*** in theTintin comic!) my way but I'll still hold my ground, look you in the face and tell you what I don't like!
Some men take advantage of the 'men-are-as-old-as-they-think; women-are-as-old-as-they-look' saying. They 'know' that looks to women are like shells to snails – they will go to great lengths to preserve their youth (at least for their 'prince charming'!).
You still don't get the drift of this piece. Let me explain.
I know of some men who have courted young, beautiful women. But after about two or so years they broke up with them for reasons best known to them. The while the courtship lasted, the ladies built so much hope in being married by the men that shared their lives.
The sad thing here is that the men were all the while not serious with 'their' ladies. They just lied through their teeth that the relationship would end up in walking down the aisle to consummate their 'fiery' love. But the converse of that was true all the while.
Put yourself in these ladies' shoes. Having put all their years and energies into the one thing that they thought would work, they are totally broken when the bombshell is exploded on their laps: "It's over between us; It just couldn't work; You were not the one for me; I made a wrong turn in the road of life; I think I now know where I am headed and you just don't fit in the bigger picture."
This is very 'brutal', to say the least. Why couldn't you just tell the truth as it were before the bud blossomed into a flower. Yes, you knew it all along that all you wanted were the stolen moments with the lass. You should have painted this aim in black and white before things became 'major' between you.
It would go something like this:
Man:I don't foresee us walking down the aisle. I just want you by my side to satiate my ego and sexual desires. What do you think?
Woman: Thank you for being upfront with me. Most men wouldn't do half as much. But no, I don't wish to be party to your whims.
Talk of being true and never coming to rue!
Men, if you don't wish to marry a lady with whom you have entered into courtship, then let the lady know. (Eight out of ten women who are in courtship today expect to tie the nuptial cord with their mates someday in the future).
It is painful for the ladies when you take them for a ride, waste their years and dump them at the junction of desperation. If no one has ever told you, then let me tell you: Time, to women, when viewed against the backdrop of marriage, is of utmost importance. Don't waste their time. Be straight with them and save them the searing pain.
while what they want is…
You bet I know what I am talking about here. I am miffed by the way some men treat ladies. You may throw all Beijing 'blue blistering barnacles' (remember Captain H*** in theTintin comic!) my way but I'll still hold my ground, look you in the face and tell you what I don't like!
Some men take advantage of the 'men-are-as-old-as-they-think; women-are-as-old-as-they-look' saying. They 'know' that looks to women are like shells to snails – they will go to great lengths to preserve their youth (at least for their 'prince charming'!).
You still don't get the drift of this piece. Let me explain.
I know of some men who have courted young, beautiful women. But after about two or so years they broke up with them for reasons best known to them. The while the courtship lasted, the ladies built so much hope in being married by the men that shared their lives.
The sad thing here is that the men were all the while not serious with 'their' ladies. They just lied through their teeth that the relationship would end up in walking down the aisle to consummate their 'fiery' love. But the converse of that was true all the while.
Put yourself in these ladies' shoes. Having put all their years and energies into the one thing that they thought would work, they are totally broken when the bombshell is exploded on their laps: "It's over between us; It just couldn't work; You were not the one for me; I made a wrong turn in the road of life; I think I now know where I am headed and you just don't fit in the bigger picture."
This is very 'brutal', to say the least. Why couldn't you just tell the truth as it were before the bud blossomed into a flower. Yes, you knew it all along that all you wanted were the stolen moments with the lass. You should have painted this aim in black and white before things became 'major' between you.
It would go something like this:
Man:I don't foresee us walking down the aisle. I just want you by my side to satiate my ego and sexual desires. What do you think?
Woman: Thank you for being upfront with me. Most men wouldn't do half as much. But no, I don't wish to be party to your whims.
Talk of being true and never coming to rue!
Men, if you don't wish to marry a lady with whom you have entered into courtship, then let the lady know. (Eight out of ten women who are in courtship today expect to tie the nuptial cord with their mates someday in the future).
It is painful for the ladies when you take them for a ride, waste their years and dump them at the junction of desperation. If no one has ever told you, then let me tell you: Time, to women, when viewed against the backdrop of marriage, is of utmost importance. Don't waste their time. Be straight with them and save them the searing pain.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
The 'inappropriateness of fear'
Fear is one of the things in life that we have to come to terms with. When fear knocks on the door of your mind, behold your vision, your goal.
Think of the infinite power within your subconscious mind that can generate your thinking and imagining. This will give you confidence, power and courage. Keep on, persevere, until the day breaks and the shadows flee away.
I wrote the poem below some time ago when I was faced with a certain fear...
When fear sets in
Confusion: a tremor,
Cascades down the femur,
Paroxysms of terror,
Rack the anterior posterior.
Uncertainty: mother of doubt,
Leaves many a limb in want,
As the monster surges oft,
Into and out of many a pint.
Collywobbles: butterflies wreak havoc,
Skipping, jumping in the colossal sac,
And the thought 'If I sink',
Draws out life with one suck.
Nerves: on edge and wild,
The scream goes with the wind,
A cloud of jagged nerves left behind,
More serene tranquility? I dare find.
Think of the infinite power within your subconscious mind that can generate your thinking and imagining. This will give you confidence, power and courage. Keep on, persevere, until the day breaks and the shadows flee away.
I wrote the poem below some time ago when I was faced with a certain fear...
When fear sets in
Confusion: a tremor,
Cascades down the femur,
Paroxysms of terror,
Rack the anterior posterior.
Uncertainty: mother of doubt,
Leaves many a limb in want,
As the monster surges oft,
Into and out of many a pint.
Collywobbles: butterflies wreak havoc,
Skipping, jumping in the colossal sac,
And the thought 'If I sink',
Draws out life with one suck.
Nerves: on edge and wild,
The scream goes with the wind,
A cloud of jagged nerves left behind,
More serene tranquility? I dare find.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Of rides and crazy fellows
Have you ever travelled at the back of an open lorry on a rough, bumpy country road? If you have, then the poem below 'holds' a similar experience. I promise you, it's not the best of experiences.
A ride I took on 22nd of December 2001 occasioned the poem below. I was travelling to a certain part of Nyahururu in Central Kenya to attend the wedding ceremony of a friend. The place was Shamata.
And to digress, Shamata is well known for two principal things: biting cold and potatoes. When I arrived I looked like a baboon as I had ridden at the back of a lorry. What with dust all over my face, clothes and shoes, swollen hands and a throbbing headache! I hate to remember the experience.
Rough, bumpy ride
'twas on 22nd December,
The year two thousand and one,
When the mother of all bumpy rides,
Called out my three names.
I took my place in the lorry,
Sweet peace inundated my heart,
As I thought of a smooth ride,
A ride to 'potato-infested' Shamata.
Hell broke loose,
When this crazy fellow,
Took the steering wheel,
And slammed on the gas pedal.
I was thrown up and backwards,
I danced sideways, east and west,
My whole body shook,
My blood froze.
My eyes popped out,
As I saw death calling me,
All the while the crazy fellow,
Drove on in murderous frenzy.
In and out of every pothole,
Was the name of the game,
As I bumped my head,
I said my last prayer:
God you created this crazy guy,
You created me in the same style,
So why should I lose my life,
Because of his madness, why Lord?
God at once said:
I created you, Yes,
But I don't remember,
Telling you to be in this lorry!
With every mile we took,
Dust masked my face,
Red-brown dust,
Made me a human baboon.
As the lorry creaked and wailed,
So did my bones threaten,
Threaten to break,
If the crazy fellow didn't stop.
I cried and called out,
But the engine swallowed my voice,
So, ofcourse, I had no choice,
But to swallow the bitter pill.
At last,
The lorry drew to a stop,
After swallowing miles without number,
Miles I will live to curse.
The 'back' was opened,
And out jumped a baboon,
A baboon in white shirt and checked coat,
A baboon that asked for water.
All who saw me,
Nearly ran for their lives,
And shook their heads at a distance,
Wondering, why a baboon in Shamata.
But all said and nearly done,
I'll live to hate crazy fellows,
I'll live to detest blue lorries,
Which love to create baboons.
A ride I took on 22nd of December 2001 occasioned the poem below. I was travelling to a certain part of Nyahururu in Central Kenya to attend the wedding ceremony of a friend. The place was Shamata.
And to digress, Shamata is well known for two principal things: biting cold and potatoes. When I arrived I looked like a baboon as I had ridden at the back of a lorry. What with dust all over my face, clothes and shoes, swollen hands and a throbbing headache! I hate to remember the experience.
Rough, bumpy ride
'twas on 22nd December,
The year two thousand and one,
When the mother of all bumpy rides,
Called out my three names.
I took my place in the lorry,
Sweet peace inundated my heart,
As I thought of a smooth ride,
A ride to 'potato-infested' Shamata.
Hell broke loose,
When this crazy fellow,
Took the steering wheel,
And slammed on the gas pedal.
I was thrown up and backwards,
I danced sideways, east and west,
My whole body shook,
My blood froze.
My eyes popped out,
As I saw death calling me,
All the while the crazy fellow,
Drove on in murderous frenzy.
In and out of every pothole,
Was the name of the game,
As I bumped my head,
I said my last prayer:
God you created this crazy guy,
You created me in the same style,
So why should I lose my life,
Because of his madness, why Lord?
God at once said:
I created you, Yes,
But I don't remember,
Telling you to be in this lorry!
With every mile we took,
Dust masked my face,
Red-brown dust,
Made me a human baboon.
As the lorry creaked and wailed,
So did my bones threaten,
Threaten to break,
If the crazy fellow didn't stop.
I cried and called out,
But the engine swallowed my voice,
So, ofcourse, I had no choice,
But to swallow the bitter pill.
At last,
The lorry drew to a stop,
After swallowing miles without number,
Miles I will live to curse.
The 'back' was opened,
And out jumped a baboon,
A baboon in white shirt and checked coat,
A baboon that asked for water.
All who saw me,
Nearly ran for their lives,
And shook their heads at a distance,
Wondering, why a baboon in Shamata.
But all said and nearly done,
I'll live to hate crazy fellows,
I'll live to detest blue lorries,
Which love to create baboons.
The all necessary liquid from above, but then…
It beats me when people say one thing while in essence they mean something totally different: they say 'red' while they mean 'black'. This kind of vacillation is very evident especially in matters concerning the weather. When it's cold, they want it hot; when it's hot, they want it freezing!( Blue blistering b…!)
The poem below was occasioned by this human response to the capricious quality of weather.
God's country
The sun rises with renewed anger,
With rage, it 'serves' its heat,
To the life below;
People cower,
Plants shrink and droop –
Heat by day, cold by night,
Days turn to months.
Plants, angered by this routine,
Refuse to bear fruit,
Making futile the efforts of man,
To till, level and sow,
On dry ground,
Famine envelops the country
Leaves turn brown and crispy,
Shed they are, wanted no more,
Plants wither, and zap! disappear,
People grow thin
And, a "sun tan's" a must.
After months on end,
Clouds sparsely gather,
Becoming a big, black mass,
They growl, declaring war on sun,
Then they spit to the ground,
Their hard-earned spittle.
Plants less with anger,
And full of bloom, sprout,
Giving the country a green,
Expanse of leafy mass,
That promises fruit,
To hungry beings.
People gain weight,
Eating the fruits of their labour,
Mud spoils their shoes,
Colds cost their pay,
The weather spoils their day,
Is all thanks they have to God.
The poem below was occasioned by this human response to the capricious quality of weather.
God's country
The sun rises with renewed anger,
With rage, it 'serves' its heat,
To the life below;
People cower,
Plants shrink and droop –
Heat by day, cold by night,
Days turn to months.
Plants, angered by this routine,
Refuse to bear fruit,
Making futile the efforts of man,
To till, level and sow,
On dry ground,
Famine envelops the country
Leaves turn brown and crispy,
Shed they are, wanted no more,
Plants wither, and zap! disappear,
People grow thin
And, a "sun tan's" a must.
After months on end,
Clouds sparsely gather,
Becoming a big, black mass,
They growl, declaring war on sun,
Then they spit to the ground,
Their hard-earned spittle.
Plants less with anger,
And full of bloom, sprout,
Giving the country a green,
Expanse of leafy mass,
That promises fruit,
To hungry beings.
People gain weight,
Eating the fruits of their labour,
Mud spoils their shoes,
Colds cost their pay,
The weather spoils their day,
Is all thanks they have to God.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
BACHELORS’ PENDULUM
Gregory is a dude who is well into his thirties (thirty-five to be precise). For a guy of his age, all and sundry would expect him to be married or at least have the thought uppermost in his mind. But that’s nowhere near the truth. Tying the nuptial cord, to him, is not an option at present.
As he says: “I am so preoccupied with myself that I doubt I would have any time for a mate. She would utterly be disenchanted with the whole shebang faster than it takes a bomb to explode. Furthermore, men are as old as they feel, women as old as they look. Y' know what 'am saying.” Talk of a diehard bachelor!
Brothers let’s get this straight: Who is the perfect bachelor? Well, this question might be somewhat tricky to answer bearing in mind that there are two types of bachelors: Confirmed and Eligible.
The confirmed one intends never to marry while the eligible one is regarded as very suitable to be chosen as a husband.
Marriage is said to be a haven of bliss (or what are we told?). Now what would make a man intend never to marry and be very adamant to change.
Most brothers in this category hold on to one line: we need freedom. We need to do our thing, go home at any time we wish {even the so-called ungodly hours} and have no one raise an eyebrow or even ask the dreaded ‘where-were-you?’ question.
Raymond is one guy who has vowed never to marry. “Marriage is like a cage; one sees the birds outside desperate to get in, and those inside eagerly desperate get out. Why should I want to get in while those purported to enjoy marital bliss want out. What would make me behave differently?” he poses to me, all the while throwing me a don’t-you-think-I-am-right look. I maintain a bland face.
Nevertheless, dear bros, to say the truth, I don't think marriage is as black as it is painted. You know, truth is tough. It will not break like a bubble at a touch. You may kick it about all day, like a football, and it will be round and full at evening.
In marriage there is freedom. Freedom from almost all the hustles that bachelors go through. You enjoy some real intimacy {not the hit and run!}. And it goes without saying that you look forward to going home early. What with the house warmed for you and the food steaming on the table!
Best of all, bros, when you cough, someone comes running to your side at the speed of lightning and with a warm loving pat on the back asks, “Dear, how do you feel?” As if that’s not enough, a hot kiss is planted on your lips. Your jagged nerves suddenly come alive.
Hey you dudes out there don’t get mad at me. That’s my own opinion.
As he says: “I am so preoccupied with myself that I doubt I would have any time for a mate. She would utterly be disenchanted with the whole shebang faster than it takes a bomb to explode. Furthermore, men are as old as they feel, women as old as they look. Y' know what 'am saying.” Talk of a diehard bachelor!
Brothers let’s get this straight: Who is the perfect bachelor? Well, this question might be somewhat tricky to answer bearing in mind that there are two types of bachelors: Confirmed and Eligible.
The confirmed one intends never to marry while the eligible one is regarded as very suitable to be chosen as a husband.
Marriage is said to be a haven of bliss (or what are we told?). Now what would make a man intend never to marry and be very adamant to change.
Most brothers in this category hold on to one line: we need freedom. We need to do our thing, go home at any time we wish {even the so-called ungodly hours} and have no one raise an eyebrow or even ask the dreaded ‘where-were-you?’ question.
Raymond is one guy who has vowed never to marry. “Marriage is like a cage; one sees the birds outside desperate to get in, and those inside eagerly desperate get out. Why should I want to get in while those purported to enjoy marital bliss want out. What would make me behave differently?” he poses to me, all the while throwing me a don’t-you-think-I-am-right look. I maintain a bland face.
Nevertheless, dear bros, to say the truth, I don't think marriage is as black as it is painted. You know, truth is tough. It will not break like a bubble at a touch. You may kick it about all day, like a football, and it will be round and full at evening.
In marriage there is freedom. Freedom from almost all the hustles that bachelors go through. You enjoy some real intimacy {not the hit and run!}. And it goes without saying that you look forward to going home early. What with the house warmed for you and the food steaming on the table!
Best of all, bros, when you cough, someone comes running to your side at the speed of lightning and with a warm loving pat on the back asks, “Dear, how do you feel?” As if that’s not enough, a hot kiss is planted on your lips. Your jagged nerves suddenly come alive.
Hey you dudes out there don’t get mad at me. That’s my own opinion.
Sample this array of my original quotes
Sample this array of my original quotes
1. The end of education is when you know everything yet you know nothing at all!
2. The present is the memory of the morrow.
3. You cannot escape your shadow in the sun.
4. Wisdom is answering when you know the question. Most people don't know the difference.
5. To come to terms with your 'fear', face it (thing making you fear) with profound calm, boldness and courage. Face it head on.
6. When you have nothing to say, you say it very well.
7. Think twice before acting once!
8. Whatever comes easy goes easy.
9. What you think is not, is what is!
10. You want to learn more about yourself – catch yourself unawares!
11. I'd rather live up to what I don't say rather than not live up to what I say.
12. A question that sets the pace for moral and character adjustment:
If you were your son, would you be proud of yourself?
13. Idea is the father of action. Action is the visible effect of an idea. So the core, the bottom line is have ideas. Let them charge you with exceeding vim and you'll marvel at the wondrous exploits you'll manage.
14. Threaten not to do that which you have no guts to perform.
15. There's no greater sin of 'character assassination' than negative generalization.
Check these out quotes that will uplift you.
1. The end of education is when you know everything yet you know nothing at all!
2. The present is the memory of the morrow.
3. You cannot escape your shadow in the sun.
4. Wisdom is answering when you know the question. Most people don't know the difference.
5. To come to terms with your 'fear', face it (thing making you fear) with profound calm, boldness and courage. Face it head on.
6. When you have nothing to say, you say it very well.
7. Think twice before acting once!
8. Whatever comes easy goes easy.
9. What you think is not, is what is!
10. You want to learn more about yourself – catch yourself unawares!
11. I'd rather live up to what I don't say rather than not live up to what I say.
12. A question that sets the pace for moral and character adjustment:
If you were your son, would you be proud of yourself?
13. Idea is the father of action. Action is the visible effect of an idea. So the core, the bottom line is have ideas. Let them charge you with exceeding vim and you'll marvel at the wondrous exploits you'll manage.
14. Threaten not to do that which you have no guts to perform.
15. There's no greater sin of 'character assassination' than negative generalization.
Check these out quotes that will uplift you.
Hanging on a string and barely holding on
There are some people who've gone through this patch in their lives. And they can associate with what is encapsulated in the poem below – a feeling of dejection, utter loneliness and guilt. If you know people who are going through such a rough patch, talk to them and try to show them love. I promise you, they need it 'badly' and urgently…
Hanging on a string
Thoughts,
Constrict my heart,
With every thought,
My heart pains.
Thoughts,
Of what I didn't do,
And should have,
Always stalk me.
Thoughts,
Of what I did,
And should not have,
Smile at me.
Thoughts,
Of a beloved friend,
Who passed away,
Grin at me.
Thoughts, come and go,
Of an intimate friend,
Who said enough's enough,
And took her leave.
These thoughts,
Take me down,
Deep down,
To a place of no return,
I'm left,
Gasping for breath,
Gasping for air,
That really isn't there.
These thoughts, like acid,
Eat at my heart,
They eat and eat and eat,
And leave horrid, gaping holes.
These holes wear out my heart,
And with every thought added,
I surely do say, verily,
My life is hanging on a string.
Hanging on a string
Thoughts,
Constrict my heart,
With every thought,
My heart pains.
Thoughts,
Of what I didn't do,
And should have,
Always stalk me.
Thoughts,
Of what I did,
And should not have,
Smile at me.
Thoughts,
Of a beloved friend,
Who passed away,
Grin at me.
Thoughts, come and go,
Of an intimate friend,
Who said enough's enough,
And took her leave.
These thoughts,
Take me down,
Deep down,
To a place of no return,
I'm left,
Gasping for breath,
Gasping for air,
That really isn't there.
These thoughts, like acid,
Eat at my heart,
They eat and eat and eat,
And leave horrid, gaping holes.
These holes wear out my heart,
And with every thought added,
I surely do say, verily,
My life is hanging on a string.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Spouses out there 'for better or for worse' please don't do this to your partner
There is this behaviour that's definitely not healthy. I hate the feel, mention and 'sight' of it. It breaks many a home and drills horrid holes in the hearts of husbands, wives and children. Let's join our hands and fight against it. First things first: let us not get involved in it. Let's drop our inordinate affections and discourage others who are wallowing in this quagmire. The sickening behaviour I am talking about here is what we know as an extra-marital affair.
Extra-marital
My wife isn't enough,
My husband's too tough,
I need someone rough,
Someone who can laugh.
All these, quite possibly,
Lead people, so visibly,
The extra-marital way, I dare say,
To many, it's the only way.
Today here tomorrow there,
Jumping into the lair,
Which isn't rare,
To those who can't pair.
Breaking the marital bond,
Is the rule of many a blonde,
From this man to the other,
While she has another.
Extra-marital is the name,
Of this dirty game,
None surpasses its fame,
And boy, does it leave many lame!
It carries all the shame,
And Surely, it's the same,
As jumping from the frying pan,
Right into the fire van.
Extra-marital
My wife isn't enough,
My husband's too tough,
I need someone rough,
Someone who can laugh.
All these, quite possibly,
Lead people, so visibly,
The extra-marital way, I dare say,
To many, it's the only way.
Today here tomorrow there,
Jumping into the lair,
Which isn't rare,
To those who can't pair.
Breaking the marital bond,
Is the rule of many a blonde,
From this man to the other,
While she has another.
Extra-marital is the name,
Of this dirty game,
None surpasses its fame,
And boy, does it leave many lame!
It carries all the shame,
And Surely, it's the same,
As jumping from the frying pan,
Right into the fire van.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Day dreams
My eyes take a far away look,
This thought and that,
Take their form in my mind.
Suddenly I am soaring high up in ecstasy,
Everything good and beautiful,
Is mine for the taking.
But then this thought changes,
As suddenly as it came,
Bringing with it all the shame.
In the thought,
I'm a hopeless wretched bird,
Who's got nowhere to fly,
For there's no security anywhere.
The thought claws at me,
Like a hungry, angry panther,
But the good thing's that,
It's only a bad day dream.
Everytime I sit and look up,
And do nothing at all,
They creep on me, and attack,
I'm always lost in day dreams.
This thought and that,
Take their form in my mind.
Suddenly I am soaring high up in ecstasy,
Everything good and beautiful,
Is mine for the taking.
But then this thought changes,
As suddenly as it came,
Bringing with it all the shame.
In the thought,
I'm a hopeless wretched bird,
Who's got nowhere to fly,
For there's no security anywhere.
The thought claws at me,
Like a hungry, angry panther,
But the good thing's that,
It's only a bad day dream.
Everytime I sit and look up,
And do nothing at all,
They creep on me, and attack,
I'm always lost in day dreams.
I think
Sometimes a thing comes into my head,
That makes me think,
Think of my life,
Think of my future,
Yes, wonder what will become of me.
Where am I headed for?
What does the future hold for me?
Am I headed for destruction?
Or is there a bright light,
At the end of this dark tunnel?
I think…
That makes me think,
Think of my life,
Think of my future,
Yes, wonder what will become of me.
Where am I headed for?
What does the future hold for me?
Am I headed for destruction?
Or is there a bright light,
At the end of this dark tunnel?
I think…
Rain
A long streak of light,
Thin and white,
Flashed through the sky,
And then bang!
The clouds clashed,
Fought and battled.
One of the clouds died,
In the fight that ensued,
The others started crying,
Over the loss of one,
Of their beloved friends.
Rain was what we called,
The tears that were wept.
Thin and white,
Flashed through the sky,
And then bang!
The clouds clashed,
Fought and battled.
One of the clouds died,
In the fight that ensued,
The others started crying,
Over the loss of one,
Of their beloved friends.
Rain was what we called,
The tears that were wept.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Dealing with problems: where do you fall?
Different people have different ways of dealing with problems and difficulties. Some of the means and ways are politic and advisable while others are no-brainers.
Check what you would do…
a). Are you one who would opt to fill the cracks instead of finding out why there are cracks (to avert something even more sinister from seeing the light of day)?
b). Are you one who would paint the cracks to make them 'invisible'?
c). Are you one who would dig up the sides of the foundation to find out why the building is shaky?
d). Are you one who would literally demolish the building, the cost of the building notwithstanding, to build a more stable one in its place?
e). Are you one who would run after lizards that crawl out of the cracks, instead of paying attention to many a cranny threatening the stability of your building?
f). Are you one who would sit by, arms folded and watch as the building crumbles in one big heap?
g). Are you one who would exhibit the ostrich syndrome. That is, hide your head in the sand and think that because you cannot see the enemy (read problem) then he is non-existent?
Talk of denying and circumventing nitty-gritty!
Check what you would do…
a). Are you one who would opt to fill the cracks instead of finding out why there are cracks (to avert something even more sinister from seeing the light of day)?
b). Are you one who would paint the cracks to make them 'invisible'?
c). Are you one who would dig up the sides of the foundation to find out why the building is shaky?
d). Are you one who would literally demolish the building, the cost of the building notwithstanding, to build a more stable one in its place?
e). Are you one who would run after lizards that crawl out of the cracks, instead of paying attention to many a cranny threatening the stability of your building?
f). Are you one who would sit by, arms folded and watch as the building crumbles in one big heap?
g). Are you one who would exhibit the ostrich syndrome. That is, hide your head in the sand and think that because you cannot see the enemy (read problem) then he is non-existent?
Talk of denying and circumventing nitty-gritty!
Of misconstruction and the weight of words
I first read the words that I have reproduced here below when I was a student at Starehe Boys' Centre – Nairobi. They were the first things I saw when I went to read the notices on the Notice Board. During my student years (in the late eighties and early nineties) these words gave me the drive to do my best even when failure looked me in the face.
After school they got me into a grave problem once when I started working – I was fired! I lost a job that was my lifeline at the time. The day before I was fired, I had handwritten them and glued (so crude of me!) the sheet of paper on the Notice Board for my colleagues to read and get inspired. Little did I know that the Manager would consider the words as an insult to the company and her person. She tore the paper and bound menacingly to her office with the shreds in her hands. She sent someone to call me. Having witnessed the unfolding 'melodrama' I knew I was in for it. How right my premonition was! I was summarily dismissed and only a vague explanation for the action was forthcoming. I later pieced the pieces of the jigsaw and came to know the why and wherefore of the unwarranted dismissal. She had thought my aim was to kindle the ire of the workers against her – what with poor pay, unconducive working environment and lack of transparency. She really had every reason to be scared but my aim was far from that – as far as the heavens are from the earth!
Anyway, situations like these hone and shape us, don't they?
Sample the piece…
STRUGGLE IS THE PURPOSE OF LIFE
You want the good things in life. You want more money, power and status in the office. You want to drive around town in a spanking new car. And you want to invite your many friends to your sprawling house to meet your beautiful wife and charming children. Also you want a healthy body, a quicker wit and a more sparkling personality.
Well, you can have all these and many more if you are willing to pay the price. These things are expensive, very expensive. And for most people, too expensive. They demand more than wealth or talent. They demand courage. The courage to work hard even when you feel underpaid and unrecognized. The guts to keep working hard.
Essentially life demands struggle. Everyday has to be a day of struggle. Once one can accept this stark truth as something positive, one can start to get ahead. Struggle allows us to refine our talents. It is the intense heat that burns the dross. It is the alchemy that turns one into pure gold.
There is no magic in the real world. In fantasy wonderful things happen of their own accord. But this is not the way the real world works. The universal law is simple: YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW.
If you are tired, it is not due to struggle. Struggle does not tire: it uplifts and rejuvenates: it brings about the best in the human spirit.
If you feel that life is hard, you have not faced your toughest adversity: Your own negative thinking. Struggle means pushing ahead no matter what. It means investing your hopes and energies even in a cause that seems hopeless. Struggle is a mark of heroism, and the difference between winners and losers.
Life is for the living. It is a struggle, challenge, change, disaster and triumph. Forget your multiple fortunes. If you can forge a win of iron by fighting through the thick of misfortune then the world is your oyster. There is no easy way to reap what you think you deserve. You have to fight for it all the way.
At this moment you are where you deserve to be. If you are surrounded by abundance, it is because you have the heart of a lion. If you are surrounded by scarcity, it is because you've not dared to challenge yourself to rise against adversity. Struggle is the meaning of life.
If you want more from your life, ask what you have done to deserve more. Don't sit around lost in daydreams: ONLY ACTION WILL REDEEM YOU.
From now on, think your way into a dynamic and confident state of mind and being. Strive to be that little bit better in everything you do in everyday struggle! Crawl up that mountain! Go for it! ~!
(By the way, are these words still on the Starehe Boys' Centre main Notice Board?)
After school they got me into a grave problem once when I started working – I was fired! I lost a job that was my lifeline at the time. The day before I was fired, I had handwritten them and glued (so crude of me!) the sheet of paper on the Notice Board for my colleagues to read and get inspired. Little did I know that the Manager would consider the words as an insult to the company and her person. She tore the paper and bound menacingly to her office with the shreds in her hands. She sent someone to call me. Having witnessed the unfolding 'melodrama' I knew I was in for it. How right my premonition was! I was summarily dismissed and only a vague explanation for the action was forthcoming. I later pieced the pieces of the jigsaw and came to know the why and wherefore of the unwarranted dismissal. She had thought my aim was to kindle the ire of the workers against her – what with poor pay, unconducive working environment and lack of transparency. She really had every reason to be scared but my aim was far from that – as far as the heavens are from the earth!
Anyway, situations like these hone and shape us, don't they?
Sample the piece…
STRUGGLE IS THE PURPOSE OF LIFE
You want the good things in life. You want more money, power and status in the office. You want to drive around town in a spanking new car. And you want to invite your many friends to your sprawling house to meet your beautiful wife and charming children. Also you want a healthy body, a quicker wit and a more sparkling personality.
Well, you can have all these and many more if you are willing to pay the price. These things are expensive, very expensive. And for most people, too expensive. They demand more than wealth or talent. They demand courage. The courage to work hard even when you feel underpaid and unrecognized. The guts to keep working hard.
Essentially life demands struggle. Everyday has to be a day of struggle. Once one can accept this stark truth as something positive, one can start to get ahead. Struggle allows us to refine our talents. It is the intense heat that burns the dross. It is the alchemy that turns one into pure gold.
There is no magic in the real world. In fantasy wonderful things happen of their own accord. But this is not the way the real world works. The universal law is simple: YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW.
If you are tired, it is not due to struggle. Struggle does not tire: it uplifts and rejuvenates: it brings about the best in the human spirit.
If you feel that life is hard, you have not faced your toughest adversity: Your own negative thinking. Struggle means pushing ahead no matter what. It means investing your hopes and energies even in a cause that seems hopeless. Struggle is a mark of heroism, and the difference between winners and losers.
Life is for the living. It is a struggle, challenge, change, disaster and triumph. Forget your multiple fortunes. If you can forge a win of iron by fighting through the thick of misfortune then the world is your oyster. There is no easy way to reap what you think you deserve. You have to fight for it all the way.
At this moment you are where you deserve to be. If you are surrounded by abundance, it is because you have the heart of a lion. If you are surrounded by scarcity, it is because you've not dared to challenge yourself to rise against adversity. Struggle is the meaning of life.
If you want more from your life, ask what you have done to deserve more. Don't sit around lost in daydreams: ONLY ACTION WILL REDEEM YOU.
From now on, think your way into a dynamic and confident state of mind and being. Strive to be that little bit better in everything you do in everyday struggle! Crawl up that mountain! Go for it! ~!
(By the way, are these words still on the Starehe Boys' Centre main Notice Board?)
Sample this cocktail of twisty brain teasers
Sample this cocktail of twisty brain teasers…
1. There are twins and they were born on the same day and year (of course, this is obvious!). One is thirty and the other is thirty too. They were born in April and their birthdays are in May. Can you make sense of this?
2. A man and a dog were walking down the road. The man rode, Yet, the dog, walked. What was the dog's name?
3. It cannot be seen,
Cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard,
Cannot be smelt.
It lies behind stars,
And under hills,
And empty holes it fills.
It comes first,
And follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter?
What's it?
4. It's the beginning of the end and the end of time and space. What's it?
(How about some on kinship ties?)
5. It's unlawful to marry your widow's sister in Africa. Why do you think this law was instituted?
6. Who is the sister to your mother's brother?
7. Who is the daughter of the daughter of your mother's grandmother?
8. How are you related to your brother-in-law's wife's grandmother's husband?
1. There are twins and they were born on the same day and year (of course, this is obvious!). One is thirty and the other is thirty too. They were born in April and their birthdays are in May. Can you make sense of this?
2. A man and a dog were walking down the road. The man rode, Yet, the dog, walked. What was the dog's name?
3. It cannot be seen,
Cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard,
Cannot be smelt.
It lies behind stars,
And under hills,
And empty holes it fills.
It comes first,
And follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter?
What's it?
4. It's the beginning of the end and the end of time and space. What's it?
(How about some on kinship ties?)
5. It's unlawful to marry your widow's sister in Africa. Why do you think this law was instituted?
6. Who is the sister to your mother's brother?
7. Who is the daughter of the daughter of your mother's grandmother?
8. How are you related to your brother-in-law's wife's grandmother's husband?
Saturday, September 02, 2006
ALL YE LOVERS OF A, B, ...(HEAR ME OUT)
All ye lovers of A,B,...,
You know what I am gonna say, maybe,
That when you write some A,B,...,
Your hearts leap with joy.
I implore you all A, B-ists,
Wherever you may traverse and sojourn,
Carry around your arms,
Piece of paper and pen.
Coz, some idea may stalk you,
As a panther does a deer,
And before it goes riding with the wind,
You will have it down on paper.
This you might have heard,
A good idea is worth your eye teeth,
Protect it however you can,
Shelter it from marauding elements.
Fellow A, B-ists, I adjure thee,
Like a soldier ready with a gun,
Ready to strike, ready to vanquish,
So should you be with paper and pen.
SOMETIMES
Have you ever found yourself in such a situation? I - times without number!!
Sometimes when I sit
Sit at my desk,
I just look up,
And wonder,
What am I going to write,
On the white, totally white,
Sheet of paper infront of me?
What's the first line of the poem?
Oh my!
Yes, yes, I got it,
But then a wind comes,
And blows it right out of me,
And goes riding high up,
With the wind,
To a distant land,
A land of 'forgetfulness',
Never to be thought of again.
Sometimes when I sit
Sit at my desk,
I just look up,
And wonder,
What am I going to write,
On the white, totally white,
Sheet of paper infront of me?
What's the first line of the poem?
Oh my!
Yes, yes, I got it,
But then a wind comes,
And blows it right out of me,
And goes riding high up,
With the wind,
To a distant land,
A land of 'forgetfulness',
Never to be thought of again.
Friday, September 01, 2006
AIDS: THE WAKE OF A NEW, DISTORTED GENERATION
Aids claims many souls by the hour and only God knows what percentage of our population carries the 'fatal' virus. The statistics of the spread of the virus is earth-shatttering, to say the least!
A cry here , a cry there,
The whole world's crying,
The whole world's weeping,
The whole wide world's lamenting,
Grieving, solemn, in tears.
Mothers lamenting their children,
Children grieving for their parents,
Everyone's broken-hearted,
Everyone's cracked, soiled,
Confused, shaken and exhausted.
In the wake of the blooming youth years,
With all the blazing, fiery flames of youth,
Aids comes, is embraced, welcomed,
Into the cells it wends its way,
The candle of life prematurely snuffed out.
To all and sundry it flashes a smile,
"Come," says it, enticingly, sweetly,
Many rush into the eye of the storm,
They twist and turn in its unending,
Revolution of painful suffering.
Boys and girls hear me out,
Men and women incline your ears,
Aids is a fact and for real,
Guard your ways, block the doors,
Aids is an 'unwelcome intruder'.
Say no to Aids,
No more, no less!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
A SERIES OF BUMPY MOUTHFULS
I say these lines to mouthy fellows who intentionally use pompous words(big words)to satiate their whims(impress guys). But, boy,do I know what they mean!!
" In promulgating your esoteric cogitations and articulating superficial, sentimental and psychological observations, beware of platitudinous ponderosity. Let your extempore decantations have rodomontade veracious veracity. Sedalously, avoid all pusillanimous vacuity, pestiferous profanity and similar transgressions."
Could someone 'decipher' these lines for me?!
" In promulgating your esoteric cogitations and articulating superficial, sentimental and psychological observations, beware of platitudinous ponderosity. Let your extempore decantations have rodomontade veracious veracity. Sedalously, avoid all pusillanimous vacuity, pestiferous profanity and similar transgressions."
Could someone 'decipher' these lines for me?!
PLEASE BREATHE A SIGH OF RELIEF
Here are the answers to Sunday's brain teasers
Question one
1. Martin is 33 years old today which is three times as old as his brother Henry was when he, Martin, was the age his brother Henry is today. How old is Henry?
Answer...
Take the present age of Henry to be Y. Thus, Martin was Y years old when Henry was 11 years old (Martin is three times as old as his brother Henry was when he, Martin, was the age his brother Henry is today). Do you catch the drift?
Therefore:
Martin :/ Henry
33 YEARS :/ Y YEARS
Y YEARS :/ 11 YEARS
What is Y?
Martin's present age (33 years) = Y + 11
33 = Y + 11
33-11 = Y
22 = Y
Henry is 22 years old.
Question two
2.It's Tuesday and I say: "I'll be back three days before one week after the day after tomorrow." When shall I be back?
Answer...
If it is Tuesday, then we start counting one week the day after tomorrow, that is Thursday. So it goes, I'll be back three days before next Thursday. This will be Tuesday. So I'll be back on Tuesday.
Question three
3. Twelve mangoes are hanging high up. Twelve men pass and each takes a mango. Eleven mangoes are left hanging. How can this be?
Answer...
There are 12 mangoes. Each takes a mango and 11 remain. So it apparently appears that Each is the name of a person. (Sorry I didn't capitalize the 'E' in each (in the question)).
Question four
4. A man stands looking at the picture of a man and says: "Sisters and brothers have I none, but this man's father is my father's son." Whose picture is he looking at?
Answer...
This man has neither brothers nor sisters. So who is the man's father's son? It is HE! Thus, if the father of the man in the picture is the man's (man looking at picture) father's son and HE is his father's son, he is looking at his son's picture!!!!
....... I hope you had a good time with them.
Question one
1. Martin is 33 years old today which is three times as old as his brother Henry was when he, Martin, was the age his brother Henry is today. How old is Henry?
Answer...
Take the present age of Henry to be Y. Thus, Martin was Y years old when Henry was 11 years old (Martin is three times as old as his brother Henry was when he, Martin, was the age his brother Henry is today). Do you catch the drift?
Therefore:
Martin :/ Henry
33 YEARS :/ Y YEARS
Y YEARS :/ 11 YEARS
What is Y?
Martin's present age (33 years) = Y + 11
33 = Y + 11
33-11 = Y
22 = Y
Henry is 22 years old.
Question two
2.It's Tuesday and I say: "I'll be back three days before one week after the day after tomorrow." When shall I be back?
Answer...
If it is Tuesday, then we start counting one week the day after tomorrow, that is Thursday. So it goes, I'll be back three days before next Thursday. This will be Tuesday. So I'll be back on Tuesday.
Question three
3. Twelve mangoes are hanging high up. Twelve men pass and each takes a mango. Eleven mangoes are left hanging. How can this be?
Answer...
There are 12 mangoes. Each takes a mango and 11 remain. So it apparently appears that Each is the name of a person. (Sorry I didn't capitalize the 'E' in each (in the question)).
Question four
4. A man stands looking at the picture of a man and says: "Sisters and brothers have I none, but this man's father is my father's son." Whose picture is he looking at?
Answer...
This man has neither brothers nor sisters. So who is the man's father's son? It is HE! Thus, if the father of the man in the picture is the man's (man looking at picture) father's son and HE is his father's son, he is looking at his son's picture!!!!
....... I hope you had a good time with them.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
CAN YOU FIGURE THESE OUT?!!!!
Do you pride yourself as being one of the people who is least puzzled by brainteasers? Let's see your muscle and brawn...
1. Martin is 33 years old today which is three times as old as his brother Henry was when he, Martin, was the age his brother Henry is today. How old is Henry?
.......................................................
2.It's Tuesday and I say: "I'll be back three days before one week after the day after tomorrow." When shall I be back?
.......................................................
3. Twelve mangoes are hanging high up. Twelve men pass and each takes a mango. Eleven mangoes are left hanging. How can this be?
.......................................................
4. A man stands looking at the picture of a man and says: "Sisters and brothers have I none, but this man's father is my father's son." Whose picture is he looking at?
........................................................
Goodluck with these!!!
1. Martin is 33 years old today which is three times as old as his brother Henry was when he, Martin, was the age his brother Henry is today. How old is Henry?
.......................................................
2.It's Tuesday and I say: "I'll be back three days before one week after the day after tomorrow." When shall I be back?
.......................................................
3. Twelve mangoes are hanging high up. Twelve men pass and each takes a mango. Eleven mangoes are left hanging. How can this be?
.......................................................
4. A man stands looking at the picture of a man and says: "Sisters and brothers have I none, but this man's father is my father's son." Whose picture is he looking at?
........................................................
Goodluck with these!!!
Sunday, August 20, 2006
A BEGGAR'S PENDULUM
Sitting there, round the corner,
Is him,
He is there everyday,
A bowl, brown and dirty,
Between his shaky legs.
He looks up as you pass,
His eyes begging for mercy,
His lips chattering and begging,
Just a shilling, he pleads,
You look down and sympathize.
Into your pocket you dive,
And bring out the ‘unwanted’ shillings,
This way and that you look,
Zap! You throw them,
Into the dirty, brown bowl.
A wide grin comes to his face,
And juts his brown buck teeth,
Thank you, he says,
By then you have long gone,
Not wanting to look back.
At the end of the day,
He gathers up his tool of trade,
His dirty, brown bowl,
And wobbles to the end of the street,
Where he will spend the cold night.
Clink, clink, he counts
The ‘unwanted shillings’,
One, two, three, he nods,
Picks up some and saunters,
To the shop for milk and bread.
Picks up the rest,
And hides them in a fold,
Of his dirty, creased garment,
Then dozes off and sleeps on the concrete,
Waiting for the break of day,
When he will start begging again.
Is him,
He is there everyday,
A bowl, brown and dirty,
Between his shaky legs.
He looks up as you pass,
His eyes begging for mercy,
His lips chattering and begging,
Just a shilling, he pleads,
You look down and sympathize.
Into your pocket you dive,
And bring out the ‘unwanted’ shillings,
This way and that you look,
Zap! You throw them,
Into the dirty, brown bowl.
A wide grin comes to his face,
And juts his brown buck teeth,
Thank you, he says,
By then you have long gone,
Not wanting to look back.
At the end of the day,
He gathers up his tool of trade,
His dirty, brown bowl,
And wobbles to the end of the street,
Where he will spend the cold night.
Clink, clink, he counts
The ‘unwanted shillings’,
One, two, three, he nods,
Picks up some and saunters,
To the shop for milk and bread.
Picks up the rest,
And hides them in a fold,
Of his dirty, creased garment,
Then dozes off and sleeps on the concrete,
Waiting for the break of day,
When he will start begging again.
PLIGHT PERSONIFIED
The eyes take a far away look,
Tears well up and trickle,
He sniffs and tries to look a man,
But the tears won’t just let him,
His mother, bedridden,
His father, disheveled,
A knot forms in his heart,
And succumbs to paroxysms of anguish.
The pain sears through his heart,
Breaking a nerve too many,
The nerve to co-ordinate,
The nerve to feel happy.
Mother passes on,
In the wee hours
He wakes up,
A cold lifeless form greets him.
Despondency sets in,
On father and son,
It’s there to stay,
Oh what suffering!
Father, all nerves broken,
Succumbs and says adieu,
Leaves boy alone,
To fight life’s battles, alone.
East or west, no hope,
North or South, hopelessness looms large,
Boy with no one to turn to,
Contemplates ‘voluntary termination’.
Goes to his room, he does,
Bolts it tight, air tight,
With a rope around his nape,
He hangs from the roof.
His body swings to and fro,
Flies compete for space,
The lifeless form,
A vivid picture of broken dreams and aspirations
Tears well up and trickle,
He sniffs and tries to look a man,
But the tears won’t just let him,
His mother, bedridden,
His father, disheveled,
A knot forms in his heart,
And succumbs to paroxysms of anguish.
The pain sears through his heart,
Breaking a nerve too many,
The nerve to co-ordinate,
The nerve to feel happy.
Mother passes on,
In the wee hours
He wakes up,
A cold lifeless form greets him.
Despondency sets in,
On father and son,
It’s there to stay,
Oh what suffering!
Father, all nerves broken,
Succumbs and says adieu,
Leaves boy alone,
To fight life’s battles, alone.
East or west, no hope,
North or South, hopelessness looms large,
Boy with no one to turn to,
Contemplates ‘voluntary termination’.
Goes to his room, he does,
Bolts it tight, air tight,
With a rope around his nape,
He hangs from the roof.
His body swings to and fro,
Flies compete for space,
The lifeless form,
A vivid picture of broken dreams and aspirations
THE MAN IN THE COFFEE BEANS...
Check out your concentration level...(are you as good as you claim to be?!)
In this pix of coffee beans there is a man's face. This is bizarre - after you find the guy - it's so obvious. Once you find him - it's embarrassing, and you wonder why you didn't see him immediately?
Doctors have concluded that if you find the man in the coffee beans in 3 seconds, your right half of your brain is better developed than most people. If you find the man between 3 seconds and 1 minute, your right half of the brain is developed normally. If you find the man between 1 minute and 3 minutes, then the right half of your brain is functioning slowly and you need to eat more protein. If you have not found the man after 3 minutes, the advice is to look for more of this type of exercise to make that part of the brain stronger!!!
And, yes, the man is really there!!!
If you are stuck and cannot find him--the answer is below. Don't scroll down unless you really give up.
Keep looking first before getting the answer. I was sorry I looked and thought this was a joke.
answer: look about 5 beans in from the bottom left hand corner! You'll see your man comfortably ensconced between the coffee beans. Simple, ain't it?
THE "EYE OF GOD"...
This photo is a very rare one, taken by NASA. This kind of event occurs once in 3000 years.
This is a picture NASA took with the Hubbell telescope.
Called "The Eye of God." Awesome, ain't it?
Saturday, August 19, 2006
TWIST AND TURN
I have ever experienced what I have encapsulated in the poem below time without number, especially when I was young. Have you ever faced it?!!!
I was in bed,
Between warm sheets,
When it came.
It came,
Like a charging buffalo,
From my kidneys,
Through to my bladder.
It was hot,
I could feel it,
Threatening,
Threatening to gush out,
Through my ‘outer opening’.
I twisted and turned,
Fearing to go out,
Out of the fear of the night,
A moonless, pitch-dark night.
With every twist and turn,
It threatened to explode,
My precious bladder,
If I held it a second longer.
Then I said,
Enough’s enough,
Jumped out of bed,
Shuffled to the door,
And opened it slowly.
Looked outside,
Only the dark greeted me,
The cold gust caressing my face,
I reached for my zip.
And exposed him, the king,
The outer opening,
And at the doorstep,
Released it.
Relief came to me,
As I stood and looked,
At the shiny liquid, hot,
Which was flowing,
Like rivulets,
To the grass nearby
No more twist and turn,
Because from my body,
I let it run.
I was in bed,
Between warm sheets,
When it came.
It came,
Like a charging buffalo,
From my kidneys,
Through to my bladder.
It was hot,
I could feel it,
Threatening,
Threatening to gush out,
Through my ‘outer opening’.
I twisted and turned,
Fearing to go out,
Out of the fear of the night,
A moonless, pitch-dark night.
With every twist and turn,
It threatened to explode,
My precious bladder,
If I held it a second longer.
Then I said,
Enough’s enough,
Jumped out of bed,
Shuffled to the door,
And opened it slowly.
Looked outside,
Only the dark greeted me,
The cold gust caressing my face,
I reached for my zip.
And exposed him, the king,
The outer opening,
And at the doorstep,
Released it.
Relief came to me,
As I stood and looked,
At the shiny liquid, hot,
Which was flowing,
Like rivulets,
To the grass nearby
No more twist and turn,
Because from my body,
I let it run.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
I'LL NEVER FORGET THAT NIGHT
When father,
Came home drunk,
And all that he did,
Was sheer absurdity.
He took mother up,
And gave her, oh dear,
Such resounding slaps,
That broke all hell loose.
Something snapped in me,
That I yelled in the night,
And walked with all my might,
Towards him, my father.
He came towards me,
Hazarded a punch,
It came right to me,
Right under my nose.
Mother yelled,
I yelled,
Father roared,
Keep your mouths shut!
Neighbours came, but,
Were sent back,
The way they'd come,
By this drunk called father.
What had father taken?
What had happened to him?
Coz he'd never been like that,
Not till that night.
I'll never forget that night,
Not till I breathe my last,
Coz hell, to me, broke loose,
On that dark, cold night.
Came home drunk,
And all that he did,
Was sheer absurdity.
He took mother up,
And gave her, oh dear,
Such resounding slaps,
That broke all hell loose.
Something snapped in me,
That I yelled in the night,
And walked with all my might,
Towards him, my father.
He came towards me,
Hazarded a punch,
It came right to me,
Right under my nose.
Mother yelled,
I yelled,
Father roared,
Keep your mouths shut!
Neighbours came, but,
Were sent back,
The way they'd come,
By this drunk called father.
What had father taken?
What had happened to him?
Coz he'd never been like that,
Not till that night.
I'll never forget that night,
Not till I breathe my last,
Coz hell, to me, broke loose,
On that dark, cold night.
OF POLITICAL UPHEAVALS AND A STORMY PAST
In the days of yore kenyans' political ken suffered such dearth,
Political simulation, stimulation incomprehensible,
Legion political 'achilles heels' looming large in stormy seas,
Such was the tune, of such no panacea promised respite.
With the advent of a new regime,
Political turbulence 'seemed' to be 'burnt to a frazzle',
Hodge-podge politicking was thrown out the window,
Magnified promises to the masses graced the billboards.
Time flew fast and with it came a 'new' breeze,
A recrudescence of past ills set in on our soil,
Power wrangling, 'power fisticuffs' so to speak,
Were replete in our mainstream press.
Then it came our way, a giant two-headed bug,
As it set in, a loud bang ensued,
Then silence, a silence reminiscent of a calm in a storm,
The 'eye of the storm' spinning in murderous frenzy.
Everything in disarray, in shambles,
As the bug wend its way into the coffers,
Lining many a ministers insatiable pocket,
With dollars, pounds, Euros, shillings.
Anglo Leasing's the giant bug,
That has sucked the blood of the 'common mwananchi',
It 'engulfed' my hard-earned supper yesterday,
And cast me a look that bespoke penury in my posterity.
Political simulation, stimulation incomprehensible,
Legion political 'achilles heels' looming large in stormy seas,
Such was the tune, of such no panacea promised respite.
With the advent of a new regime,
Political turbulence 'seemed' to be 'burnt to a frazzle',
Hodge-podge politicking was thrown out the window,
Magnified promises to the masses graced the billboards.
Time flew fast and with it came a 'new' breeze,
A recrudescence of past ills set in on our soil,
Power wrangling, 'power fisticuffs' so to speak,
Were replete in our mainstream press.
Then it came our way, a giant two-headed bug,
As it set in, a loud bang ensued,
Then silence, a silence reminiscent of a calm in a storm,
The 'eye of the storm' spinning in murderous frenzy.
Everything in disarray, in shambles,
As the bug wend its way into the coffers,
Lining many a ministers insatiable pocket,
With dollars, pounds, Euros, shillings.
Anglo Leasing's the giant bug,
That has sucked the blood of the 'common mwananchi',
It 'engulfed' my hard-earned supper yesterday,
And cast me a look that bespoke penury in my posterity.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
I HAD A DREAM
In that dream you lay,
by my side,
your body smooth, lithe and sleek.
I reached out to touch and caress you,
but you were gone,
taken by the wind.
I cried myself hoarse,
into the cold night.
How grieving it has been,
to live without you,
without your warm,
charming smile,
that brought life,
and life abundantly,
to my lonely heart.
by my side,
your body smooth, lithe and sleek.
I reached out to touch and caress you,
but you were gone,
taken by the wind.
I cried myself hoarse,
into the cold night.
How grieving it has been,
to live without you,
without your warm,
charming smile,
that brought life,
and life abundantly,
to my lonely heart.
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