She Is Pregnant! !

I’ve always been afraid to love, afraid to give my heart to a person other than Jesus. I’ve always been afraid to let someone, a flawed being just like me, into my emotional life. I’ve always been afraid to give the steer to somebody, that maybe I’ll call my lover, to control my world. To make me smile at peebles by on the roadside, cry on the reality being awarded two confident blue ticks, laugh at the silliest of jokes provided that the words emanated from her mouth and to frown at the tiniest of provocation. However, she managed to change my heart and made me believe in true love laced with a dark trace of lust. But now I’m in trouble because _She Is Pregnant_.

She came into my life unexpectedly. I would like to describe the unexpected way she came into my life as a pop up notification, in a slay Queen’s Infinix mobile phone, that the data bundles are insufficient for her to post her latest picture. The picture that makes her look more of a Anti – Rickets brand ambassador from the way the legs are bent. She came into my life when I had never heard about anything to do with love. I viewed love as a thing of the birds since they flew together over the hills and far away and sometimes they wouldn’t mind making love on a frail branch in the glaring sun.I was a virgin. Not by the virtue of not engaging in a flesh exchange program with anyone , but by the fact that I hadn’t experienced love. My heart hadn’t felt the warmth that people in love have whenever thinking of their loved ones. But she broke my virginity, a thing I was happy about until I realized that _She Is Pregnant_.

The evening was surreal when she walked into my life. I was having a peptic upset and was seated beside a street in town holding my intestines with one hand while the other helped me lean on a painted wall. I was literally screaming of the deep pain I felt inside my small intestines by the facial expressions I showcased to the world. Many people never bothered to inquire the state of my situation. Most walked past me like I was some old excrement whose smell does not sting and so they end up even not noticing it. A few showed concern and for a moment I was tempted to believe in humanity but I was wrong. All they could offer were glances that seemed to say _Sorry you’ll be well soon. I wish I could help you but I have something urgent to do. So urgent than your aching stomach. Don’t worry though you won’t die_ and they walked away. I remember there was this Indian child who looked at me with such pity that I almost cried. Not because of the pain but because the child felt pity for me that she almost cried. I wanted to cry for her. Just when I was about to give up and throw my ailing body to the road to an oncoming truck, she came to my rescue.

“Hey, What’s the problem… your stomach??.. _Aki pole_lemme call a taxi… ”

She took me to hospital. She never knew that I had the ugliest name on earth . She never knew whether I believed in traveling light of the gospel or not . She never knew whether I liked gays or not now that they marry in the US . She never knew whether I liked Polygamy or not now that it’s legal. She never knew whether I was on instagram and wasted data bundles double tapping on twerk videos or not . She knew nothing about me save for the fact that I was just another guy who had a peptic upset in the mid of a busy street. Yet she took me to hospital and took care of me until the butterflies in my stomach began to dance as they used to. When I could fully differentiate between doctors and nurses for when I was I was admitted I couldn’t tell, I saw her. What my eyes saw seemed like I was in those bad dreams sent by barren ancestors to motivate me to get babies and make up for the children they never had.

She was the most beautiful thing my eyes had seen. As she waved her hand on my face, my hands were itching to fill the spaces between her fingers. When she smiled it had a magical effect on me that I forgot everything about my stomach. I smiled and blushed like a premature teen. If my being in hospital meant that I had her smile every day, I was ready to lie in the hospital bed for a century. Her voice was sweet and every time she spoke I couldn’t help but wish I could have a recording of her screaming. That recording of hers I would listen on it on repeat mode the way some guys listen to some crazy noises they call EDM. Does it matter anyway, her beauty and all now that _She Is Pregnant_?

I never stayed in the hospital for a century. So as soon as fate had it, I was separated from her beautiful smile. I knew that sooner I would find myself in the same scene acting out the same script hoping that the characters don’t change now that luck was the scriptwriter. Before doing that, I tried waiting for long hours in the street for many days praying that she walks the same path and I see her. It never happened for two weeks and when I gave up and decided to go to a club to soak my sorrows in a drink is when I met her. She was a waitress cum stripper at the club. When she saw me her eyes bulged out with love. She told me to wait for her until her duty ended so that I took her to my house for we had a lot to talk about. We had a lot to talk about. I never sipped a drop of alcohol into my blood that night and instead had my eyes transfixed at the plain face of a watch. Time was not moving. The things people do in the name of love.

As she had earlier stated, we had a lot to talk about. That night we talked and talked and talked. It all started with serious talks, the formal introductions until laughter pierced the air of formality. We began telling jokes while touching each others head and hands. The hand as an organ is never satisfied with touching the head and hands while there are more interesting parts. So our hands began the exploration expedition followed by our hearts professing immeasurable love for each other. My bed sitter became obviously too hot to contain to human beings with clothes. Off we rid the clothes and before I knew it she was screaming at the heat of the thing and just quickly morning came. We exchanged numbers and began a relationship.

Now I’m in the same street, the street where my intestines misbehaved and she came to my help. I’m neither waiting for her nor for another terrible peptic upset but I’m just from picking up her call. The shortest call in the history of our relationship. It was the shortest because she called to say _She Is Pregnant_. I don’t know what to do. Not because I’m afraid of making my barren ancestors proud by being a dad. This is the bit that troubled me:She works in a club. A waitress and a stripper. Is it possible that I am the only one she has let between her legs. I’m I really the father of the mass of cells that grows in her stomach?

Friends _She Is Pregnant_.

Maru_Kim
TheKOKOTAtales

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Even In Death…We Part Not!

Once upon a time
I drank from your spring
I got drunk on your essence
I got high on your aura
Suspended in your galaxy I was
Rotating round your orbit_your moon.

The stench in your rot now I feel
The foul from the promises made
The smoke in your aura
One you tainted me with
The cloud of darkness you put me in
Liberated but condemned now I feel.

The honey from your lips I licked
Yet the whole pot was sucked by another
My shoulder got sore from holding your head
Yet another carried your all
And now I’m crushed…
Crushed by you.

See the veins popping around my neck
Feel my heart beat in sync with the devil’s laugh
Hear wheeze right deep from my lungs?
My eyes burning bright like that condemned pit
The bottomless pit expanding in my soul
A life you have condemned me to!

But I leave not alone…
The whimpers from your gagged self
The rivulets of tears from your oogly eyes,
The forgotten memories we once shared
The echoes of your charming laughs…
All that stir nothing but more rage…
And tonight….
Tonight we become one at Hell’s pit.

So chant your prayers love
Make peace with your soul
Call upon the ancestors if need be
As I down my final glass…
As I blow out the smoke from my last stick
Tainting my once pink lips black
As we get ready to turn all black-together.

And I pray….
May that fire you lit in me once
Consume our bodies this day
May our forever as one promise
Be met this day
And just as loving you gave me life
And losing you became my death…
Let it be so today….
Our death!

AMEN

©Joy🌹

A Letter To My Class Five Crush!

Dear Cherop

,

I wish I could climb the tallest skyscraper in Dubai, stand on it on one foot, with one hand in the air and the other on a loud microphone and scream _Hello_ to you. However, I would not do that not because my feet are afraid of walking on dusty soils of diaspora because I have been to Rongai but because Adele screamed to the world _Hello_ that saying it to you would not have the desired effect.

It has been long since we last met and exchanged glances of unfulfilled desires. It has been years since I saw your big eyes bulging with love. It has been many days since I heard your beautiful voice that could do Despacito cover in Kalenjin and make Justin Bieber want to come all the way to Kericho to have a sip of _Mursik_. So baby, I decided to write this letter to you,at least to tell you that am alive but not kicking things. I know class five is like a fairy tale now to you but I beg you to just keep your calm as I take you through this vital history lesson.

My memories of you were dead asleep as some minerals that lie deep in the base of the earth. I would like to think of it like a dog sleeping, lying in the scorching sun in the mating season only to be woken by a group of dogs trailing behind a bitch. The velocity at which the dog would wake up to make a run is directly proportional to the rate at which your memories were revived in my mind. Since then, these memories have been unapologetically interrupting my sleep in the dead of night, precisely at the time when Cynthia begins to shake her bum in my dreams. Especially after getting to know that you recently passed with twerking colours in the recently released KCSE examinations with an A so confident and upright that it needed no shoulder to lean on. It made me remember a lot.

I remember we used to think of you as a beautiful face with an empty head. You never understood mathematics while the teacher taught that even if he could teach in Kalenjin it could have only gone a long way in enriching your arithmetic vocabulary in mother tongue and no value addition to your mathematics skills. I remember well that I was the guru that everyone respected with trepidation. I could do maths with my eyes closed and still manage to beat majority of the class with eyes wide open on the tiny screen of a calculator. I remember how you came to me and asked if I could have a word with you. My world went to a standstill. Like a brilliant idea had rung in the mind of a an insane woman that she does nothing other than being mesmerized that her cranium had sired the thought.

If words could be sufficient, I would have described to you how I felt by then. I remember how I stared deep into your eyes that kept on searching me that I felt like they were burning me with the flame of mad desire. I mumbled a reply and then a deal it was. I began being your mathematics teacher and your smile began doing magic to some of my organs. It is only that I lacked the courage, I would have told you.

My heart then felt like a barren land in Kalahari that had just been watered by heavy rain and it had this pangs of desire to bring forth a seed :The seed of love. By then, my heart was not like the playground it is right now , where girls walk their dirty feet in and out like it’s a free public toilet. It was a virgin land that was attractive and had the nutrients to nourish a great relationship. So I fell in love with everything you had, from the tiniest hair in your head to the oldest nail in your left toe. And to you my heart belonged. Then the unimaginable happened, you began passing Maths tests, which meant a sudden death to our lessons and the most painful of all, you transfered to a private school.

Since then, I have never met a girl whose smile has the effect of a sewing needle that skillfully runs through my heart knitting the broken pieces. Now that you have an A in an examination I scored a D, chances are minimal that destiny would favor us. Did I tell you that even in my dreams you always turn down my request of being your boyfriend? When I ask you why, you always say you are smarter for a D class guy. But this I should tell you is that the brain that taught you mathematics is the same that I have inside my head. The poems that I wrote, the jokes that I told you, which you overly blushed like a premature teen, and the songs that I composed and you sang them joyfully though some sounded like Christmas carols in July are things that I’m left with as evidence of an aborted relationship that circumstances strangled just as it was fighting for survival.

As I follow my talent and passion to be a Writer, for I scored an A in English but later demoralized it with D’S and E’s in other subjects, I will forever love you. I will forever invoke you in my day to day life and incase of working on a romantic story, be sure the characters would be me and you in what that never been. Kipchumba told me that you want to be a doctor. I wish you all the best May you study hard so as to tend to aging slay queen bums in a theatre.

Your love in Fantasy,
Kokota Tale

©Maru_Kim

Texting…

The Eisenherz Poet

Where his texts had once been single words and symbols, now they were full sentences. He wrote “You” instead of “U”. He rarely used the punctuation for a smile, or a wink, or an emoji. he preferred to make it clear, in language, how he felt.

He was happy. He loved her. He missed her. His feelings were now clear, and very simple. Besides, even had he wanted to use contractions and symbols , none had yet been invented to convey his message. Even words couldn’t do it. But they were the best he had.

Every letter, every space, brought him closer to her. And gave him not just pleasure, but joy.

She would see what he’d created, for her. What he’d written.

He loved her, he wrote.

He missed her, he wrote.

And she wrote to him. Not simply in reply, but her own messages.

Hurry home, she wrote.

I…

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How to jump off the cliff

TIM'S LOUNGE

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  LIFE IS ONE BIG GAMBLE, so they say. It’s a win-lose affair, and when it comes to relationships, it’s a matter of risking. We risk falling in love not knowing whether our gesture will be returned in kind. So, how do you jump of the cliff safely?  Here are some useful tips.

    First, be guarded. Make sure that when you fall, there’s someone down there and not just someone, a trustworthy someone. A person you can look up to, one who cannot sit by and watch you plunge headfirst. A person who is ready to dive and fall on your behalf. A person you can depend on. So, trust is of the essence here. A relationship without trust is like a car without petrol, it can’t start neither can it be jumpstarted. What if the car (relationship) starts then runs out of petrol (trust) a few…

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JUST A MAN

I am a man

So look at me not like a god

Expecting to see my perfections…

Do not!

For I make mistakes… I’m just man…

I am a man.

I dish out *”I love you*s like freebies

So that I can duck commitment,

But still get it as I need it…

Breaking hearts easily…

While caring less

Yes… I am a man.

I am man

Who doubles as a serial killer

With blood my soul is tainted,

But my hands free from it all they appear…

That’s what I am,

And this is what you need to see…

Me…being a man!

I am a man,

Not to be judged by my past mistakes,

Not to be heard with deaf ears,

Not to be perceived through broken promise…

But by words oozing from me…

For a man ain’t measured by his worth or deeds…

But by his words!

Yes…I am a Man.

A man who chose the cold,heartless woman,

She whom you all kept off,

She who intimidated you all…

And like dogs with your tails between your legs…

You walked off…

As I walked in and set camp…

For love was the magic in me…

Yes I am a man!

And with all my faults,

All my flaws,

I accept me…

For that’s who I am I am just a man!

©Telvin. Murray

©Joy🌹

Freedom…

Tear me apart,

Brick after brick,

Scrap my skin away,

Layer by layer,

Lay my body bare,

Loose the flesh on me,

Set me free.

Paint my skin black,

Or even white…

Black, a memory of who I am,

White of who I want to be,

Cut through my skin Mend the imperfect To your perfections Free My soul!

Cleanse me,

Sanctify my,

Purify me,

I will bleed out,

Refill me a fresh,

I will stop my breath,

Breath in me,

Make me new.

To the forces of the night,

I surrender my all,

My once caged mind,

It’s bars are broken,

Freedom…

To be free,

Is all I yearn!

Flee not from me,

Cast me not away,

For I’m enslaved…

To fear!

To failure!

To deceit…

But yet,

I yearn freedom.

©Joy🌹