They Stole My Shadow

I once had a shadow
That used to accompany me whenever I went
I once had a shadow
That gave me company and never left my side
But my shadow is gone now
They stole my shadow
I don’t have a shadow now
I’m all alone
Without my shadow
When I slept
They stole my shadow
It is all now emptiness
Strangely, I’m not bitter, just sad.
But still, I need my shadow back
So that it can accompany me
Just like it used to before
Without my shadow
I can’t hide
With my shadow I can hide
Now I’m so empty
Now I’m so naked
Who took my shadow?
They stole my shadow in the night
When there was no light
And my shadow was resting
They stole my shadow
These people
I’m without my shadow
It is gone
And I walk the earth
Without one
They stole my shadow.

© 2012 Ayoub Mzee

When The Phones Died.

The phones remained strangely quiet
None ringed
The phones stubbornly refused to talk
They were not ringing anymore
It was eerie
The silence pervaded everywhere
The phones had died
It was the silence of the tombs
And it was all quietness
The phones didn’t want to talk
It was unnerving
So unlikely
Since when a day would go without a call?
Questions callously defied answers
Answers that were never there
Loneliness offered company as days turned into weeks and weeks into months and months turned into despair
Doubts invaded
Nothing was sure anymore
Each day was some dreary existence
With no hope in sight
When the phones had died

Finally
One day the phones rung
They rung and rung and they have never stopped ringing since then
Hope flowed again
And happiness pervaded the sphere
But it would be very hard
To forget the day
When the phones had died……..

© Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee

Strange Stranger.

You know not of him.
You know not of her.
But not unlike an ubiquitous specter of lament and a certain malaise, they become a malady that defies both prescription and a description.
You knew not of her.
But you revered in her wiles,
And you’ve sworn allegiance to her mystery. Your acquaintance is casual, yet you prevail in useless travails that try to claim that yours is indeed a deep empathy.
An empathy bereft of sympathy. She’s libertine, you say she’s modern. He’s callous, you claim he’s manly.
A strange stranger.

In his veiled persona,
He gets away with so much.
For he has inconsequential virtue to loose. For even her name, you’re not sure anymore.
Jasmine is a flower, so is a Rose,
A name that any comely lass can be named after.
All of your secrets she’s stolen,
You gave them to her too willingly and readily.
In a mirthless existence, you chanced a laughter and told all, while he said nothing, Just gently urging you along the path of deceit, with a gentle and pious smile. How he softly killed your silly hurt heart. Whence you’ve crossed the rubicon, you will find your nadir, and tranquility will play truant to you. The strange stranger shall be gone. The dark night possesses his verility. The night lights shines her essence.
Two strange strangers, in strange places, possessed by strange spirits.

He became the air you breath.
She became the dreams you dream. But like a wanton mist, he misted away, not unlike a galloping white horse in a full moon, while she faded away, leaving you groping in darkness,
For a reprieve,
Of faded promises.
A mysterious tryst with a strange stranger is all that was left in your bitter lips. A taste of regrets. Accusing and forlorn.
She’s gone with her mysterious perfume, An intoxicating scent of half dreamed dreams. She’s gone with the stolen moments that never were. She’s just a stranger.
Strange you will never understand.
A stranger you will never apprehend.
A stranger you will never comprehend.
He is a strange stranger,
Who defies ethics,
She is a stranger,
Who stole,
Tender possessions.
Nascent passions.
You are the stranger.
I am the stranger.
We are the strange strangers.
The night is an abode of many strange creatures….

© Ayoub Mzee 2011

Your Doctor.

You’re my patient, I’m your patient doctor,
ready to eradicate your infirmities that have indisposed you.
I’ll quiet those unruly tempests raging in your hurt heart and body.
Your erstwhile woes will be banished together with your foes by my potent medicine.
This malaise shouldn’t be allowed to vanquish that beatific smile you callously throw at me once in a long while.

I’ve heard your lamentations,
And here I am, a knight in dark night, ready to administer strong medicine.
Relax and let me nurse you this night, with gingerly tendered care.
Is there pain in this breast? And in this waist? Breath in, breath out the kiss of life.
Let me see your eyes, ah, the vestiges of the coquette have been mellowed by jaundice.
But my not so diabolic concoctions will revamp the tease and the naughty glint of joy back in your eyes.

Your heart is hungering,
For it hasn’t been fed properly, it has a severe case of malnutrition.
A warm chicken soup will warm your soul and this vast emptiness will be filled with vital and vigour verve. And this syrup of intense love should be sipped every morning and before sleep everyday.
Shake well before use.Your internal hunger shall be relegated to antiquity my patient patient….
That void I will feel and fill with precious life to the brim until you’ll overflow with untamed and delirious ecstatic joy, unbridled by worry or anguish.
For I’m your doctor.

© Copyright 2011  Ayoub Mzee

Thoughts

Like a weak fleeting ray of light in a uncertain dusk.
It’s gone.

Like a faint trace of perfume in a stranger’s lounge.
It’s done.

Like a dying echos of a forlorn love song in a windy afternoon.
It’s home.

It’s all transient.
It’s Fleeting and momentarily.
But this abrupt end like a wanton period at the end of unwilling sentence is sure jarring to this self.

It’s all gone.
And only remnants of yesterday’s desires and wishes are left in this blazing labyrinth of scattered sentiments.

Was the thought for reeling real?
Or was it just a reverie?

© Copyright 2011  Ayoub Mzee

Passion.

It is what keeps you going despite not seeing any sign of light at the end of the tunnel.
It is the thing that keeps your heart together and wraps your hope tightly close to your dreams.
Passion drives you earnestly to your chosen destination. Passion makes the heart glad with the secret knowledge that nothing is impossible.

Long after the sun has disappeared beyond the horizon, and the night has settled for its nightly vigil,
Passion keeps you glued to your hobby, burning the midnight oil with glee and satisfaction.
Certainly, you know not any fatigue when deeply absorbed in your pet activity.

I rate passion highly over any other virtue. Passion inspires mightily, emboldening the spirit to do more and try more. In passion, I found answers to life its self, for who is more passionate than mother nature herself? Passion brings life all around and why lie, passion is a healer to all that ails the heart and soul!

© Copyright 2011  Ayoub Mzee

In A Life’s Day.

The morning hour,
easily dismisses the nocturnal ambitions,
and heralds a new dawn in new day.
wisps of the early shy morning mist,
clasps and cleaves my doting sentiment,
in a perky dance, misting away coyly,
in the air up there, atoning a gracious heart.

Daffodils, primroses, lilacs and geraniums,
eagerly embrace the sun’s bright kisses of remembrance.
The busy bee on a a sudden errant errand,
buzzes past my ear, intent on it’s onward sojourn,
to a succulent nectar.
The lark sings her song of praise,
for a good day,
the lyrics all too familiar,
the thrills and trills good for this sedated heart.

Nature’s goodness refuse to wane,
instead, it spans my entire being with more gladness.
I’m filled to the brim by the promise of a better tomorrow.
I rejoice in a cute rejoinder in this Nirvana,
It’s my Eden and ceding it I will not,
but will bestow it gladly to my children,
so that, they too, will have a taste of heaven.

Fresh earthly scents,
assail my nasals, in a gifted drift,
clustering at vital placements,
in this joyous garden of hope.
In a single elevated revelation,
I’m at one with nature,
telling my life’s day,
in vivid hues that affirm,
the natural beauty that callously,
we dismiss and ignore and leave it,
to the tree huggers………..

An Acquaintance!

A sly smile,
Callously thrown across the dark room,
Mixing effortlessly with the smoke’s plumes,
Finds it’s mark and lands on my eager face,
Choking out the breath with insincere doubts.
What an acquaintance!

The belle dances her way slowly across the house of sin,
And glides smoothly besides I,
Suffocating me with her musky perfume,
Creating a momentarily delirious delight in my stupid psyche.
Her firm but soft mounds cajole my chest for naughtiness.
I’m too willing.
I’m an acquaintance!

In a husky voice, she whispers like a soft viper
“Can we dance” It is more or less like a statement.
The wine in me readily agrees.
The little piety in me defies weakly,
I’m at cross roads.
Like a zombie she leads me to the dance floor,
Wiggling her hearty posterior with an obvious intent.
Like a zombie, I’m hooked, hook and sinker,
With beautiful guile and a lost muse,
I’m acquainted!

She holds I close to her bosom,
Blossoming hot desire in return, brewed in a witch’s pot.
I’m lost. I float aimlessly on air, my weak knees refusing to support this humour.
She’s libertine, I’m allowed access to all vaults,
Pillaging with greed and glee, while hiding in darkness.
Soon the number is over and we sit down,
The two night’s acquaintances!

Over endless bottles of wines,
We talk and share, intimate affairs,
Illicit longings and demurred wishes.
Crazed thoughts we share over a stick of a dead cigar.
Deranged desires we muster over empty bottles of old wine.
Strangely, we’re sedated and half fulfilled with unquenchable need.
Soon, the night is over.
My acquaintance goes.

She melts into the thinning night like a morning’s mist plumes,
She puts on her jacket and jumps into the waiting taxi,
And together they’re soon swallowed by the dark dawn.
I check my wallet. It is intact. So is everything.
What has she taken from me?
But I’m very sure that some part of me has been stolen…….
But don’t know which part has been stolen by the night’s acquaintance!

© copyright 2010 Ayoub Mzee

Drunk

Intoxicated.
Deliciously delirious.
I’ve drunk from the spring of life.
And as I raise this goblet of goodness,
To toast a good health,
I can’t but give a vote of thanks,
To the gods for their magnanimity.

I’m drunk with beauty.
She’s gone to my head.
I can’t focus clearly.
My legs have become cotton.
I’m staggering home,
In the wee hours of the dream,
Singing songs of freedom.
Charming lady luck,
With more of my stupidity.

So, this is the way you feel when in love?

© copyright 2010 Ayoub Mzee