Category Archives: Abstract Narrative

I Really Do

I thought I would sit down and write

All these things I want to say

I may not be so eloquent in my speech

Still I prefer to put my conversations down on paper

 

I believe you already know

That in this life that we live

Some people stop mattering after some time

And others begin to matter…

I guess a while has passed now,

But I do not know how you shall take it

So I write this down with no intent of telling you

Knowing that whatever course nature takes

Remains to alter my destiny,

Believing that all things work out for good,

Hoping that neither extreme is manifested,

Wishing that I could let you know,

Anticipating the reaction I may never see,

Admiring the qualities that make you unique,

Praying that you may remain the embodiment of lots,

Loving the memories of you that make me smile…

 

I guess I shall follow something I once heard,

I like you, so I shall let you go – without knowing

If we were meant to be you shall return…

But I shall also risk the consequence of this wisdom

The great pain of losing you without letting you know,

Instead of the lesser pain of being rejected.

 

Wherever you are right about now

Forever is no guaranteed eventuality,

The past is not to be dwelt on, but a lesson,

The future is not to be imagined, but a consequence,

The present is what I’m in right now,

And the state of things, clear and true

Is that I like you – I really do!

 

CTS 2010

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Scylla and Charybdis (His)

I’ve seen a lot in my life

And of late I think I am going mad

 

I thought it was all gonna be a joke

That I would close my eyes and it would all disappear,

But now I have just realised

What a fool I have been

All this while thinking of something

And never letting you know

So I planned to tell you tonight

That’s why I called us a date

And as you walked in I thought

That I was gonna lose my mind –

That is, if I already hadn’t…

 

I pulled your chair and you sat

And I sat – across the table

Your glassy eyes stared at me

In that special way you’d always do

When thinking or trying to figure out something…

Then we ate – and boy don’t you eat!

And as we ate we made small talk

How your day had been

And how mind had been

Then you smiled big

And as you always do – did

Waited for me to ask why

And when I did – Oh God!

I didn’t know what happened

I don’t know if you noticed

But my eyes – they faltered

And stared at you still…

 

You asked if I had plans

And I gave a couple of vague statements.

 

We went back to the flat

And I forlonly went to bed…

I guess it hit you later

That I hadn’t ordered takeout

But had taken you out

And I was all dressed up

‘Cause that’s when you woke up, and damn!

Why do you always have to be so considerate?

I heard you tiptoe out of your room

And I heard you pause at my door

Then you went to the living room

Straight to the rack, and frisked my coat –

 

I guess you felt it, because you gasped

And yes, I was watching you.

I watched you extract it

Your delicate fingers trembling

I heard your gasp

Then a sob catch in your throat…

If sense had prevailed,

I would have gone  back to bed

But hearing you sob

Brought me to your side.

We held each other

And there we found solace

Until your phone rang, and

You jumped – guiltily.

Everything then was a blur, and

Afterwards, if I can remember

You tried to explain

That you had waited

For a hint. a sign, a clue

And had finally gotten impatient

And searched elsewhere.

 

Well, I’ll have you know

That I had always been scared

Of what might have happened,

But as they say, the greatest pain

Is not to love and be rejected

But to lose your love

Without them ever knowing.

 

So I guess now you know

But I have still lost you

And I’m not sure I wanna move on.

 

CTS 14.10.09

Scylla and Charybdis (Hers)

There’s so many ways to kill a rat

Though I’ve never heard of giving it a swat

I really thought I’d make it through

Didn’t know it was gonna be this tough

 

‘Til today I don’t wanna close my eyes

“Cause that’s inviting all the memories

To come back flooding, in front of me

Tempting me to shed some more tears

 

I thought it was for the better

For us to go on and call it quits

 

I vowed once to never live in regrets

But for once I think I’m gonna…

 

I’m gonna let go and learn to feel

All that I’ve been hiding from.

If  you cared to remember something

I pray you remembered that I do not waver

In whatever decisions I make.

So as I allow this torrent to flow

From wherever you may be – know you this –

 

I do not regret and never will I

The days we shared and all we did

Knowing and growing and loving,

Letting us go when hope seemed lost,

Living in misery for a while after that,

Learning to cope with all the emptiness, and

Finally understanding, though not wholly

That what we had isn’t ever coming back.

 

If there’s something I’d like to remember

It would have to be the happy memories

The walks in the park

The photos in the booth

The popcorn and the ice cream wars

The late night texts and calls

Early morning hangovers

From yesterday night’s drinking contests

The queer look as you tried to remember something…

 

Dwell not on the sadder aspects

For therein lies manic depression.

As we both gather ourselves

And attempt to move on

I’d love to ask you

Not to live in the past.

Seek not the past in the future

Live for tomorrow

And some joy you may find.

I write this to you

Not as a dismissal slip

But as a loving reminder

that what we once had

Was very special

Though we may never reclaim it.

Keep this as a reminder

Of good times shared

Days spent on this earth

When you existed –

One, yet two.

 

So take your time and move along

Lemme be a memory to you

One that brings a faint smile.

Let this be a reminder

Of the joys and the woes

Of a careless love

Of a distant past

Of the choices we make

Of the life you’ve lived

Of the depth of your love

Of the pain of heartbreak

Of what we once had

Of what shall never be

Of who we were

Of who I was

Of who you’re gonna be…

 

Above all, do me one last favor,

An act of love, if so be it –

Don’t forget, to remember

To move on – for both our sakes.

 

CTS 12.10.09

 

I Need To Go

“Please explain it to me. I don’t understand.”
“I… I…. It’s rather hard to …. To….. I dunno…”
“C’mon! There’s gotta be something… an explanation…. A reason why you just woke up someday and decided to end this…”
“I told you I can’t tell, really – it just – just doesn’t…”
“Doesn’t what? Doesn’t feel right?”
“Ummm… not exactly…”
“Come on! What’s with the unsure act? You told me it’s something you do, but I’m starting to think you’re using it as a shield… to – to hide…. Look at me! Look me in the eye!” As he said this, she turned her head away to hide her tearing. “LOOK AT ME!” he yelled, jerking her head so she was facing him directly. “Tearing now, are we? Aren’t you a special one…” he mocked, in part to hide his surprise at her state.
“Nick… I – I need to go. Let go.”
“leaving already?”
“Please.”
“Like hell you’re leaving. You’ve still got a lot to answer, THEN you can leave.”
“Nick please…”
“Answer me Toni! Doesn’t what?!”
“Nick, it’s complicated. I already told you. Just… just…” Her voice faded as she felt a huge tear roll down her left cheek. “Please,” she whispered.
Nick let go of her and looked on in disbelief. She was looking at the ground, arms clasped together, biting her lower lip towards the left side. He’d been with her long enough to recognize that look, although recognition and acceptance were two different things altogether.
“Okay Toni, talk to me. Please. Help me understand why.”
Silence, another tear.
“What did I do wrong?”
Silence.
“Is there someone else?”
Nick was getting desperate. She knew this but… At this question, she actually semi-rolled her eyes through the tears. This was getting hopeless… She couldn’t speak, what could she say anyway? That she didn’t have a solid, speakable reason as to why she was leaving a perfect guy? He would deny that, say he is flawed, but he was perfect for her. Perfect. What would she say? That it was right, it felt – even looked right, but something in her gut told her to walk out? He was desperate, she was frustrated, so she raised her face and looked him in the eye. Directly. The gaze lasted long, then she raised her palm to his cheek oh-so-gently and held his face, using her fingertips to explore it one last time and to commit him to memory. Then she turned and ran, hailing the first taxi she met.
She had told him, in her own way she had.

So I found this when going through my old pieces… I really wish I had finished it. It should have made for an interesting read, but unfortunately, it is all we have for now.

Peace and love
XO

Keshy

My grandparents have a farm help, Njambi. She is very good at what she does, very meticulous, very diligent. Everybody that has ever been to my grandparents’ place before and after her arrival can testify to the fact that the house, the compound and even the cows – everything looks better. Waaay better… but this post is about Njambi’s daughter.
Wangechi, whom we call Keshy, is a bright 6 year old girl. When I say bright I mean not only intellectually, but personality as well. Her smile, oh, that girl’s smile is the most beautiful thing I have seen in a long time. She smiles with her whole being, she looks like a flower that is fast-forward blossoming (you know the way they do it on Nat Geo?) right in front of your eyes… Her whole body seems to light up. She has these very white, very small milk teeth, and her smile gives you a free front row seat to view this gallery of twenty. Her eyes light up, they look like they hold the essence of all the fireflies in the world, all the innocence, all the simplicity one could ever wish to acquire. Somehow all the beauty in the universe, in the night skies, the sun and the moon and the stars fit in that little, little body, when she smiles.
Now, in my grandparents’ house, there’s this room I really can’t name, but it plays a central role in today’s narrative. It looks like it could be a dining room, except that there is already a dining room. Each of its four walls has a door… two doors that are directly opposite one another each lead to a bedroom. The third door opens into the living room, and the fourth into a porch that faces the outside kitchen. This room has a cupboard that has been there since my mother and her siblings were babies, and it still keeps leftovers and salt and matchboxes and milk from the cows and flour… mostly. It also has two tables, one next to the cupboard that holds dishes that are in transit from the washing area to the living room dish cupboard, and the other that holds food in transit both to and from the kitchen. Under the first table is a small gas cooker we use to warm food in a hurry, and under the second table is a karai, where hens hatch their young. In one corner, behind the door that opens to the porch, is my grandmother’s kibanji, a huge earthen pot where she stores her drinking water so it stays cool. I think now you kinda understand why I cannot exactly give this room a conventional name.
Yesterday, Keshy introduced me to her child, Stella. She came into this room as I was preparing vegetables for supper, and I see something strapped to her back. So I asked her what was going on, and she told me that that was Stella, her child. And she was fast asleep. She needed my help adjusting the pink jumper that doubled up as the baby carrier so I obliged, and she left promptly in search of food to prepare for Stella, so that when she wakes up, she won’t have to stay hungry for long, or at all.
Stella is a very fortunate doll, if I may say so. She’s not much really, not as much a doll as she is pieces of cloth inside a larger pink one, but the love and the care that she gets is out of this world. Whenever she isn’t being cuddled and coddled, she is strapped to Keshy’s back, sharing in her adventures as she explores the farm and bush around. She is always fed on time, and I find it beautiful how Wangechi models her mother in how she takes care of that doll. She will speak to Stella, explain things, tell jokes, ask questions – even prioritize and put her before playing with her friends. She doesn’t just place Stella anywhere, she has to find a place that is stable, firm, safe, soft, fit for an actual baby. And then she will cover her well to protect her from the elements, just as she has seen it done, before she can go out to play.
So Keshy went out to search for food and left me very impressed. When she returned, about half an hour later, I asked her whether she had found the food, and whether Stella had been fed already. She said no, she hadn’t found food yet, and then looked at what I was preparing with this glint in her very white eyes. Catching on, I asked her to fetch a plate from the dish rack, and I scooped some (really like two tablespoons) out of the pot and gave her, to go feed her child. We were speaking in conspiratory whispers this entire time, and when she left holding that plate of food in her hands, I wished I could bottle up the joy that little mother was exuding. Since then, every time we meet, she has this look in her eye, and I would imagine Stella does too… the look you give a fellow conspirator when you did something and got away with it… But that’s not the point of this story and I don’t even know what the point of this story is!
All I know is that this little person inspired me to write something about her, and made me so happy just to sit back and observe her go about being a small person in such a big world, still hopeful, innocent, untainted, pure.

These Guys…

There’s a certain breed of guys I find myself gravitating towards… And thank God they do not know it yet.

The kind that should know better, but don’t. The kind that have no clue what it takes, or means, to keep a girl happy… Or just maybe acts that way… The kind that look like they don’t want to touch a girl with a ten-foot pole. The kind that sends the text that kills all conversation, and you have to wrack your brain to bring up something else. The kind that is adorable, but hates to hear it. The kind that shares in the same peculiarities, that shares the same secret pleasures as I, but away from the public eye. The kind of guy whose statements almost always sound mean, until you get to know them, and understand that no harm was meant by them…. The kind that fit many of these descriptions, and then some, because they are bigger than any descriptions. The kind that also happens to be some of this, and none of it at the same time. The kind that confuses me….

The kind that doesn’t really fit into the criteria of whom I should like, but that I do anyway. The kind that would probably laugh if they knew I’m into them. The kind that may stumble across this one day, and then deny that they ever know me, that they have any association with me. The kind that defies stereotypes, that guy that feeds me a whole lot more than anybody else ever has in any given environment, give or take. The kind that makes me all giddy and all comfortable at the same time. The kind of guy that makes me write a post at one am, despite my resolutions to not write about any significant others, or potential ones, because of how ephemeral this all could get. The kind that would never know I learnt that word watching Teen Wolf, or even that I like that show. The kind that I couldn’t imagine getting all old and wrinkly beside, yet I still get pulled in… The kind that makes me think I’m waaay in over my head, the kind that makes me know I’m screwed.

I think I’ll leave it off here, lest I add things I will regret, because the thought of having a crush figured out from a blog post, by the person himself, mortifies me to no end. Lol… This life. iOut 😀

Here…

But the house looks real pretty, I must say. It is mid-April, but the decorations from Christmas are still hanging. They are gold and purple and red and blue and silver, and they add a nice charm to the place. Being here is all that matters when you’re here, barely in contact with the outside world. There’s no electricity, so the phones and laptop are dead… But I couldn’t care less. Nothing is urgent here, nothing is compulsory. I am free.
The old slanted tree we used to sit on gave in to its weight, but its fall left us the bench, that part of its trunk that ran along the ground for a metre or two. And at the very edge, new shoots are already sprouting. The old kitchen, bathroom and outhouse were brought down, and grass is all that is left, nothing to bear witness that they once stood there. I am reminded of a poem we studied in high school… ‘Grass Will Grow’.
And truly, nothing is permanent. Just like the tree, hurts get mended. Barrenness and hopelessness eventually give way to fruitfulness, given a little rain and sunshine. Here, I can heal. Here, I can be… Here, I can rediscover.