I Would Like

I would like to come down,
Come down in town,
And see you,
And take potent coffee with you,
And listen to the blues with you,
And take the fine wine with you,
And hold your hand,
As we laugh,
As we love,
As we live,
The life around us…

That smile,
Steals and stills some heart,
That twinkle in the eye,
Confuses and confounds,
A certain psyche.
It is gone.
It is done.
I would like,
To have another reportoire…

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

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Uncle Stu II

It has been quiet sometime now,
Since I last saw you.
You have been so lost Uncle Stu.
Where you being @?
We miss you Uncle Stu.
Please come home soonest.
So much has have happened at home,
Since you disappeared into the big city.
Your nieces and nephews have all grown up and infact have got their own families now.
Some you actually didn’t know.
Uncle Stu,
You have become a stranger in your own home.

But Uncle Stu,
We have always loved you.
You are a such an interesting person.
You used to gall us with endless laughter and mirth.
You had the most kind heart Uncle Stu. You lived with us and shared with us everything you had Uncle Stu.
You cried our tears.
You laughed our laughter.
You lived our pain.
You breathed our joy…

But one day,
One day you travelled to the big city.
You disappeared completely into the big city.
The big city swallowed you,
Just like the way Jona was swallowed by the big fish in the bible…

Come back home Uncle Stu.
We miss you Uncle Stu.
Who wronged you Uncle Stu?

I will play your favorite reggae hits Uncle Stu when you come back home. I still have your favorite collection… Israel Vibrations, Culture, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Hammington, Buju…. I have everything Uncle Stu.
You would sing alongside these greats,
Strumming my heart with wonder,
A wonder of a beautiful and magical life in future time. You were a star to me Uncle Stu.
But now you are gone.
I keep a close watch on the jalopies,
Vying along the dusty road,
And hoping to spot yours too,
As you come home,
Dear Uncle Stu.
It has been many years…

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

Phone Numbers

PHONE NUMBER

Excellent dinners.
Exciting outings.
Quality time spent together.
A movie here.
A night out there.
Yet he won’t ask her for her phone number.
Yet she would never be the first to ask for his phone number.
How?

She was a proud woman,
She who never stooped low,
She who always had her way.
But this man,
This one fine specimen of a vital masculinity was a something totally different…

She swore never to ask for his digits,
She swore never to ask for his facebook, linkedin, skype, google+, twitter and netlog contacts… Never.

Yet she longed to hear his tantalizing voice.
Yet she wished to read his mind through the social websites interactions with other humanities…

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

My Night

So long dear night so long.
Well, the day has kissed the leas a true goodnight and you have scripted my whole story upon the hours of time.

I hold no grudges but instead I profess a true gratitude for being. Here I am and tomorrow I will be.

Dear night. You know of all of my secrets and cloak and dress them in astute intergrity. Hold me again dear night. I want to feel and fill your cold kisses. It is night again…

What a night…
My night.

Ayoub Mzee Mzima © 2013

I talked To Myself

Today,

I heard,

Myself talking.

Talking to myself, again.

And the things I said to myself,

Are the very things that I have been running away from.

I ran from the truth.

A supposed truth.

A purchased truth.

A forced truth.

A truth I really didn’t want to hear…

I am afraid,

To talk,

To myself,

Again…

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

The Moment

When it finally hits home
There is no denial
There is no escape
The moment must be consumed
A sure win
A sure surrender
It is the moment
That truth finally reveals herself
She she claims her place
In reality
They are the best moments
Defined in the passage of time
In present time
The moment commands respect
Scripting the living time
And making history
In broad strokes of hope
This moment cannot be stolen
It is a moment that can only
Be defined by living the moment itself. The past, the present and the future fuse onto this one moment.
Our moment.
The moment.

©Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee

Reality, She Conquered.

Reality leaned over me,
Her warm bosom urgent on my familiar breast, she breathed fresh metaphors, and I imbibed her hurried need. Imagination seduced I with quintessential emotions. In an ephemeral moment, my forte was gone and my fort wasted. Reprieve refused to grace some poor heart, instead, strange remedies were connoted. Her kisses spawned skilled kills, Her mount was surer and dried up vital truths in a hedonistic dip.
In reality’s boudoir, truth rested I in forced lovin.’ Summit was achieved and night’s smiles were more willing. Reality plodded I with certain wonders, revealing a heart’s nakedness, And so, I let her conquer I in sure syllables. Sweet surrender it was…..

©2010 Ayoub Mzee