Scorned!

So Herodias nursed a grudge against John and wanted to kill him. But she was not able to, because Herod feared John and protected him, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man.

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The best that can be said about it is that it was not right. First of all, the manner of doing it; secondly, the reason why. I’ll tell you the reason why it should not have been done the way it was done. But, before that, let me tell you a story. Do not mind the frog in my throat. I tell you a tale of love. Love gone sour. Hate! This is not a story about infidelity you know, but just a bizzare truth of how far one will go for the one you loathe and despise. See, the exact date doesn’t matter, but this event took place anyway, on a January night after a day when the wind had blown without pause down the dusty noisy paths of Crossroads.

What shall I ask for?” Asked her daughter, dressed in her beautiful dancing costume, as she stood impatiently before her mother. Her mother paused a moment before answering. A thousand options came to mind. It wasn’t everyday that one had the chance to receive anything within

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MIN OMONDI

The best that can be said about it is that it was not right. First of all, the manner of doing it. Secondly, the reason why. I will tell you the reason why it should not have been done the way it was done. But, before that, let me tell you a story. Her story. Min Omondi’s story. Do not mind the frog in my throat. I tell you a tale of love,

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The Awakening

You are coiled on your bed clutching your heart
Because you think it is about to burst
Pain rips through you as though you had swallowed hot stones
In the midst of the fears and insanity your spirit cries ENOUGH!

Enough fighting and crying, struggling and trying to hold on
Your sobs begin to subside as God’s eyes inside you open
You stare at the world through them
You see that you must never betray thyself again

You see that you must take responsibility for yourself, by yourself
You see the difference between wanting and needing
You see that you must take comfort in things that are simple-
Food, water, shelter, clothing, friendship

You see that you must discard doctrines, values you have outgrown
You see in your scars reminders that the past is not a destiny
You see that you are not perfect and you appreciate your defects
You see that you must stop bitching and blaming other people
For maimimg you by what they do and do not do to you

You see that it is not always about you
You see that everyone is entitled to their opinion however wrong
You see that you must accept shortcoming amd fraility in others
You see that you must stop judging and pointing fingers

You see new worlds and different points of view
You see that you must admit when you are wrong
To build bridges instead of walls
You see you see- you see because you are now wide Awake!

© Kenyanito

Dear Lord

Maybe
Deep in the dark of the night
And in every rooster’s crow
Dog’s bark and crane’s call
In every deep laughter
And overfed hunger
Sweat and toil
Struggles
Brilliant smiles and curious stares
Maybe
They have had tones of homes-
Dear Lord
And all they need this time
Maybe
Is one with no walls,
Roofs or doors
But rather a simple sign
Hanging from the branch of a tree reading:

Land rich and fertile, plant dreams here

Maybe.

© Kenyanito.

Faithful Gentleman

And I know her thirsty self will come back, and I will certainly carry her, a willing passenger on a night train trip to the sindom of pain and pleasure and leave her there panting and hungering for more, for a thousand sins with me and more. . .

You’ve been calling her consistently for the past one hour, and she has been avoiding your calls like plague for all that while. May I add that you’re annoying and irritating, for I have to start all over again.

“Wait, Joe, I think he knows…”
No, of course you don’t know anything. You’re just suspicious,a voice in you afraid to utter out your little insecurities; lest you lose her, or so you think. Poor you!

“Lola, relax, he has no idea, it’s just you and me right now; forget him!” I smirk back, loving the sheepish nod she gives me back.
Two or three kisses later,

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Boy, bye!

 We all wade across life’s streams, not even sure of our return, but hoping to meet somewhere in life’s maze while searching. . .searching for an outlet. Time comes when we have to move on, sometimes not prepared to pack our own, but only abide by nature’s commands.

But why should I believe what you say this time, anyway?”

She had raised her voice a little, protesting against what she thought was an accusation in my voice earlier. I was taken aback, startled by the vehemence of her protest: who was I,

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What Does Happiness Feel Like?

The morning blush’d fiery red: Mary was found in Adulterous bed; earth groan’d beneath, and Heaven’s above trembled at discovery of love.

What does happiness feel like? She asks me. Like warmth,I say.
So you can’t be happy when you’re cold?
She looks confused.
Like simplicity, I explain.
Happiness isn’t ever hard? She asks.
It isn’t ever complex?
Like success, I try.
Like achievement.
Can’t you stay happy in the face of failure? She looks worried.
Like softness, I say.
Like gentleness.
Like a tornado bursting through you,like a volcano erupting.
Happiness,I say,feels like gladness to be alive.
It feels like blanket forts and daisies and sunshine and rainstorms and old books and hidden book stores.
But I’m struggling.

She opens her mouth.
But no,that’s not it,I say.

What does happiness feel like?
She asks,a slightly pathetic note in her question,something between despair and dumb incomprehension.
Like being loved,I tell her,
And she’s finally silent,
weary of all those memories whispering in her skull.
Like loving,I say, and being loved in return.

©Kenyanito.