As Heavy As Lead

Weighing down,
With insidious dread,
Unsure, unhappy,
Uncertainty pulls down,
And scrawls, unsteady idioms of futile existence,
Troubled aspirations,
Negates, the very life,
That is determined to breath again…


I Spoke With The Moon

I spoke with the moon last night,
And I held a certain dialogue with the moon,
And we spoke in a silent night,
She listened calmly to my words,
I narrated my life story,
I spoke of my never ending pain,
I spoke of my nascent dreams,
I spoke of my nubile hopes,
I shared my aspirations with the moon,
She listened and warmly smiled to my righteous case and cause…

And the moon spoke,
She said,
Dear son,
I know what you’ve been through,
The centre has refused to hold,
And instead everything has fallen apart,
You have become a stranger to your own home,
You have become a stranger to your own people,
Darkness has plagued your footpath,
Clouds have shrouded your joy in dark mysteries,
Happiness has taken leave from your life,
Confusion, isolation, uncertainity and guilt reigns mightly in your life,
But have courage dear son,
For you have remained strong despite the many storms brewing in your little cup,
For you have remained sane despite the endless and merciless trials,
Smile son,
For the dawn of a new day and life is here,
Hold on in there strong man,
Your big day is here,
Ready to shine and bless your life…

And I listened to the beautiful words,
In a dark night,
And watched the matronly lunar,Shine her benevolency upon the sleeping world,
And I was glad in the heart,
And I sung and rejoiced silently in the solemn and dark night,
As the moon shone her silver love,
Upon my happy countenance,
I knew that the moon,
Has blessed yet another wretched soul…

I spoke with the moon.

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

One day I will Call

I might not call you today,
But just know that,
I still have your number,
Just keep my number,
For one day,
I will call you,
I don’t want to call you right now,
I just got too much pain,
And I don’t want to pain you,
And I don’t want to burden you,
With unnecessary baggage,
Maybe you will understand,
Maybe you won’t understand…

I was to call you,
But I never did,
Honesty demands courage,
Yet I am a coward,
A celebrated one,
There is so much I would like to share and air,
But I just don’t have the strength to,
And so I just keep quiet,
And send the occasional text message,
One day I will call,
Just keep my number,
Just like I keep yours…

One day I will call,
When the sun is shining,
And the darkness has cleared,
And the clouds have gone away,
And the birds are singing again,
And the streams are flowing again,
And prosperity has known us,
And happiness has married us,
And joy is us,
I will call then,
One day I will call,
I will call,
Trust me,
And I am gone,
Into the dark night,
Keep my nangos,
Keep my number,
One day I will call…

Movin’ Out

Movin’ Out

She sat in the front courtyard,
And watched silently,
As the neighbours moved house.
She saw a torn chaise lounge,
Aged with time,
And full of both warm and sad memories,
Being hurled into the waiting truck.
A tired bed was next,
Many a generous generations,
Had been sired,
Upon it’s wobbly legs.
An avalanche of various sad and worn out wordly possessions followed,
And were unceremoniously being heaped upon the old and wheezing truck.
Ah. Moving out…

Her neighbours were moving out of the run down neigbhourhood.
A place of shattered dreams.
A home of sordid existence.
A destiny of vicious circle of poverty.
A shanty townwship.
A place where no one lived.
A place where no one survived.
A place where people just existed instead of living,
Not unlike the forlon and unforgiving sordid structures,
That they called home,
That housed them grudgingly…
Movin’ Out.

She didn’t care,
To know where her neighbours,
Were moving to.
To her,
What mattered most was that,
Her neighbours had managed atleast,
To move out,
To escape,
From the tight grip,
Of this slum.
No one moved out.
The slum held you down,
Suffocating your dreams and will,
Killing your resolve and ambition,
With a determined efficiency…
The slum became you,
And you became the slum.
There was no moving out.
Movin’ Out it was then.

But her heart glowed with hope,
When she saw her neighbours,
Moving out.
She knew deep down,
That she too will move out one day.
she wanted to escape from this meaningless existence.
She dared dream of a better life,
Out there.
She deeply knew and believed that,
She too,
Would one day be a star,
And shine brilliantly,
In a dark night,
And upon the whole wide world…
Movin’ Out.
She will.

©Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

Behind This Smile

And warm to a soul,
It is this smile.
That no one would suspect,
The enermous pain,
That lurks behind it.
None could feel,
The heavy burdens,
That this gentle smile carries.
Benevolent coutenance conceals many a sufferings,
Quietly borne,
Silently experienced.
Resilience gently plods the soul
along, cajoling for a reprieve.
Bright eyes refuses ill luck,
To peek into a soul in an embellished destitution,
The spirit sings a song of hope,
And recites words of faith.
Behind the smile,
Lies a bland life,
Bereft of verve or vivacity.
A lugubrious existence behind the smile is all there is,
Cleverly concealed from a piercing heart.
Behind this smile,
Lies half dead dreams,
Broken visions and shattered aspirations.
But behind this smile,
There exists a strong spirit,
Oblivious to evil’s beguiles,
No more subdued hues or hushed chromas.
One day,
The light shall shine through the smile and scatter away the dark energy that found abode behind this smile so easily.
And the day is not too far.
The day is here, to rejoice and reclaim and make new.
But don’t let this smile fool you,
It has hidden many things before in yore…..

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

No Colour

No colour can define me.
No colour can explain me.
No colour can speak for me.
No colour can tell my story.
I’m neither black, white, brown or coloured. The blood that courses through my veins
is as red as yours.
This blood is never black,
White, brown or coloured.
There is no colour.

I breath the same air that you breath. The very air that holds forth and gives life.
The firmament above attests to this. The stars and the lunar baths us gloriously in their silver lights and doesn’t care about our skin colour. The sun showers our hearts with her sunshine regardless of the colours and so does the rain. It pours her blessing to all and neither does it know what colour maketh thee.
There is no colour.

We are all sourced from the same spring. In stillness and in quiteness,the universe proclaims our connectivity. We are all one and belong to each other.The Universe is our nation, while you and I are its citizens.
Your pain is mine.
My joy is your joy.
There is no colour.
And neither will ever be any colour, that will completely define us, and tell out story fully.

©Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee

Traces of A Soul

I gather about
The pieces of my soul
Jumbled psyche
Traces the shadows
Of my soul
Pain is beautiful
So is love
A soul longs to long longest
Abyss of nothingness
Betrothes traces of a soul
Loud thoughts
Clamour for a familiar cause
Pieces of a soul
Gather around piqued courage
Traces of a soul
Tell my story

© Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee