Sunday, November 14, 2010

Acres & Bachelors: A Love Story (poem)

‘If you’re not enjoying life, everything else is useless.’ – Joyce Meyer



All young girls, gather around and prepare to hear
About a young bachelorette by the name of Heather.
As is the African custom, I, your humble narrator,
Ask for guidance from the spirits of my ancestors
Who told stories by the fireside in by-gone millennia.

First, here’s introducing the main characters:
Heather – Eighteen, lush, innocent, pretty;
If she were a painting, she’d be done in soft pastels
And fetch a tidy sum at the local art gallery.
Florence (“Call me Flo”) – Heather’s mom; slim,
Debonair, snooty as an ambassador’s wife;
If she were a dog, she’d be a poodle.
Jonathan – The stable hand; twenty-one, chiselled body,
Ready smile, handsome face; Venus as a boy.
Theodore – Twenty-eight; born with proverbial silver spoon,
Sharp dresser; one of the most eligible bachelors in town.

Now, Heather and her family lived on a sprawling ranch
Where they kept a thousand head of cattle, a hundred sheep,
Twenty horses and ten noisy German Shepherd dogs.
The family property – acres upon acres of it –
Covered a wide area as deeply contoured as a face.
One day, Heather’s parents went to the city on business
And while they were there, the discovered a couple
Who were big in the banking business and had a bachelor son.
Florence saw an opportunity and went into overdrive,
Bringing up Heather and postulating her as the perfect wife
For their son, Theodore. She termed it: ‘A match made in Heaven.’

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Heather was restless.
She decided to go and ride one of the horses.
Going round the large farmhouse and gaining the stable,
She was surprised to find Jonathan grooming a new white stallion.
His curvy chest was bare but he had a hat on
And his legs were planted into faded blue jeans and brown cowboy boots.
Heather felt an odd but pleasant fire shoot up her tummy
But quickly composed herself and said hello to the stable boy.
He smiled and said hello, looking directly into her eyes.
Blood rushed into her cheeks as she returned his gaze.
‘So big and stately and beautiful,’ she rhapsodized.
‘Me or the horse?’ inquired the strapping labourer.
‘The horse, Silly!’ Heather shot back, engulfed in laughter.
‘And if you’re through, I’d like to take him outside.’
Jonathan was shaking his head like a holier-than-thou pastor.
‘I wouldn’t advice that, Miss,’ he said. ‘He’s a real kicker.’
Heather didn’t like being patronized and raised her voice one octave:
‘I’ll ride any horse I like, thank you very much!’ she said.
Jonathan shrugged, saddled him up and turned the reigns over to her.
‘It’s your funeral,’ he said, giving her another or his barreling stares.

Our Heather confidently mounted the great stallion,
Made herself comfy and then dug her heel into the horse’s flank.
The one-thousand-pound beast went wild, braying and bucking
As if they were in the rodeo and sending poor Heather into the air.
The moment she hit the ground, Jonathan arrived.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked as he helped her to her feet.
His hands were large and strong and yet surprisingly gentle.
‘Yes, I’ll live,’ Heather mumbled. ‘Should’ve listened to you.’

Jonathan saddled up a less temperamental stallion for Heather
And helped her get ‘on board’ as if she was a beginner.
He then mounted the stubborn stallion like Alexander the Great
And together they raced around the vast ranch, shouting and laughing.
Heather loved horses because of their strength and beauty.
Like her spirit, they liked to run wild and free.
By the time the youths got back, the sun was setting.
Heather thanked Jonathan for a most enjoyable afternoon
And entered the house where she found her parents waiting.

Florence informed Heather that she had made some friends in the city
And they would be visiting over the weekend for a small party.
The object of the party was to introduce Heather to Theodore
Who she said came from a ‘very highly placed’ family.
Heather rolled her eyes and left the room groaning inwardly
She was tired of her mother’s match-making tendency.

The dreaded weekend arrived and with it, the visitors.
Flo and Theodore’s bejewelled mother looked like sisters
And laughed aloud while their husbands swapped anecdotes.
(The men were savouring Famous Grouse whiskey
And also getting on like a house on fire.)
Theodore turned out to be a handsome devil
But character-wise, he was as hard as a saddle.
He asked practical questions and expected practical answers.
He never laughed, didn’t think much of the great outdoors
And – horror of horrors – was allergic to horses.
He was a rising star in the banking industry
And, according to his calculations, it was now time to marry.
A smiley wife would make him look more mature and responsible
And she, in return, would live in the lap of luxury.

Heather was appalled by his opinion of the marriage institution.
She told him that not everything was about profit and loss;
Sometimes, all people wanted was just to be happy.
Flo detected the appearing cracks and swooped in for the save.
‘You two make such a lovely pair!’ she crooned. ‘Let’s see you dance.’
She all but dragged them to the centre of the room
And on the stereo, she played, ‘The Nearness of You.’
As they danced, Heather’s mind kept returning to Jonathan –
His easy smile, free spirit, Adonis body,large hands …

The dilemma stared at her like a crocodile peering over the surface of a pond:
Theodore was clearly the best choice for her in practical terms
But he was Prince Charming without the charm;
It was Jonathan who promised happiness and romance.
A loss of co-ordination made Theodore step on her toes
And she snapped her eyes open and began to hop about going, ‘Aow! Aow!’
As Theodore offered profuse apologies, Heather realized something:
On or off the dancefloor, she and Theodore were out of step;
They were so different, it was like a dog dancing with a cat;
They’d never be dance or life partners and that was that.

Leaving behind a stunned audience, Heather ran to the stables
Where she found Jonathan sitting on a wooden fence,
Watching the stars as if he was expecting visitors from space.
He detected her movements, turned around and smiled.
‘May I join you?’ Heather asked, a smile lighting up her face.
‘Of course,’ he said and helped her mount the fence.
Heather didn’t mind the fact that he smelt of hay
And together they sat, side by side, watching the Milky Way.
After a while, Heather leaned her head on his sloping shoulder.
She could hear his breathing and feel the gentle rise and fall of the shoulders.
Somewhere, a horse brayed once and then fell silent.
Above, a trillion trillion stars winked in an inky black sky.
Elsewhere, no doubt, Cupid was busy shooting arrows.

When Heather told her mother that loved Jonathan,
Flo went into all manner of theatrics before she finally collapsed.
She came to, heard the news again, and had a relapse.
Luckily, the lovebirds found an ally in Heather’s dad
Who regarded Jonathan as the son he never had.
He agreed to cede part of the vast ranch to Heather
But warned the suitor that if he ever hurt his little princess,
He’d promptly load his shotgun and dispatch him to his Maker.
Flo, who had just regained her consciousness offered to provide the alibi.
Heather and Jonathan got married that summer
And lived happily on their own ranch where they kept lots of horses...
The end!

(c) Alex N Nderitu http://www.alexandernderitu.com/

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at: http://stores.lulu.com/NewShakespeare

The Return of Gunga Din! (poem)

Tribute to Rudyard Kipling's classic poem, 'Gunga Din!
To read Kipling's 'Gunga Din', visit http://quotations.about.com/cs/poemlyrics/a/Gunga_Din.htm


 
When your countree’s not at war and politicians are a-shaking hands,
You need to thank Brahma for the peace in your land,
For when them guns start chattering and explosions mushroom
Then it’s ‘Goodbye, suburban mansion; ‘Ello, refugee camp!’

Now in Injia, where I was born and bred,
We have ‘ad our fair share of war and death
And nobody knows that better than me –
In many a conflict, I served as the regimental bhisti .

You may think that tanks, rifles and ammunition
Are the main battlefield requirements but ‘tis actually your water ration:
Believe me when I tell that many a soldier
Has lain on the corpse-scattered battleground whispering, ‘Water…water.’

Of all them sa’ibs I served in their most desperate hour,
I best recall an Englishman called “Rudyard Kiplin’. “
‘E thinks I’m dead but I’m still breathin’ –
I did get shot while taking him some life-saving water,
As ‘e lay in the dust with a bullet in his spleen,
But when everyone thought I was dead, I was shammin’!

Rudyard was a right good feller – I‘ll tell you that for nothin’;
Always ‘ad stories to tell – ‘e made us cry, ‘e made us larf.
‘E was born right ‘ere in Bombay and ‘e often called me ‘brother’;
‘E told me ‘is dream was to become a respected writer.

‘E was a strange one, that one – always scribbling in ‘is notebook.
When we asked, ‘e said ‘e was writing some kinda ‘Jungle Book .’
‘E’d pause from ‘is writing to scratch ‘is shoe-brush moustache;
‘E said ‘e wasn’t ‘appy unless ‘is work ‘ad ‘that magical touch’.

The last time I spied sa’ib Rudyard Kiplin’,
‘E was lying on the battleground yelling, ‘Gunga Din!’
The war was like them epic battles of the Bhagavad-Gita;
We were behind the fight and I prayed to Lord Shiva
As I sped towards sa’ib, bullets singing in my ears.

‘E once told me ‘e didn’t come all the way from Cool Britannia
To be nobody’s prisoner, caged like some exotic tiger;
If ‘e was wounded and the enemy came over to claim the prize,
‘E’d turn ‘is rifle to hisself and go to ‘is God like a soldier!

After drinking the water I gave ‘im, ‘e seemed much better
But we were still in the gravest of danger -
The minute I stood up, a rose of blood blossomed from my chest.
The pain that spread was akin to a blacksmith’s fire
But I decided to play possum rather than risk another bullet:
The sa’ibs were going down like flies and I didn’t want to be next!

I later learnt that sa’ib Kiplin’ survived and became a great writer.
‘E was given so many awards, ‘e even started turning ’em down .
’E was even kind enough to write about ‘is wartime brother, Gunga Din,
But ‘e couldn’t understand ‘y I risked my life for his.
Sa’ib, I’m an illiterate bhisti but you have so much to offer.
Though we made fun of your moustache and English accent,
By the living God that made the world we live in,
You’re a better man than me, Rudyard Kiplin’! 



(c) Alex Nderitu

The Daughters of Eve (poem)

Note: This piece contains references to African literature which might be obscure to the general reader.


 
Woman:
Even a good woman has a thousand wiles
So be careful how you choose your wife
Eve, what happened on that fateful day?
Why did you eat from the Tree of Life
And seduce poor Adam to join in the crime?
Eve, what happened at the beginning of time?
Did you really eat a fruit or was that a metaphor for intimacy?
In the middle of Eden, was there a forbidden tree
Or is that just another earthy metaphor?
And did a snake really talk or was that just Satan?
Whatever the case, that day saw the Fall of Man
Why do women find it so easy to deceive?
I guess it’s because we are all daughters of Eve.

Man:
Hmmm…if you’re the daughter of Eve
Then I guess that makes me the Son of Adam
Which leads me to ask: 'Was Adam a Black or White man?'
My money is on Black because Africa is that cradle of man
And Eve must have been a beautiful Black woman
Because so many of her descendants have those features
So come to me, Daughter of Africa,
Whoever said that the beautiful ones are not yet born
Has obviously never laid eyes on your face
He is ignorant of your features, your texture, your grace
God works in mysterious ways
And I can tell that He made you on the Eighth Day
After a nice long rest on Saturday

There are lessons to be learnt from the Fall of Man
Men and women should get close but not think they’re one
They may eat the same bread but not from the same loaf
As observed in ‘The Prophet’ by Khalil Gibran
I wonder what Eve said the first time she saw Adam
Perhaps: 'O Brave New World that has such creatures in it!'
Meanwhile, Adam was crying: 'My rib! – Have you seen it?’
Those who preach that no difference exists between the genders
Are the same ones who mess up their relationships and then try to fix them
With God’s bits of wood and useless tips from soap operas

Say you’ll marry me, daughter of Eve,
Let’s go forth and populate the Earth
It’s morning yet on Creation Day
The universe is still young, still fresh from the Big Bang
I am Adam and I have been looking for my Eve
I’m yet to find my long-lost rib
But of late I’ve been detecting a sweet presence
And I strongly suspect that it’s the stalking of Eve 



(c) Alex Nderitu

THE QUOTABLE ALEXANDER NDERITU!!!

Considered thoughts, accidental wit, motivational quotes, book excerpts and one-liners from "Saint Alex" 
 
ON MUSIC...


'It's easy for me to rap because I talk fast anyway...Just add a beat and I'll be in there like swimwear.'

'These are the guys who ruined Kenyan hip hop: they jumped in like rapists when hip hop was in the middle of a seduction...In the early '90's, rap music began to gain popularity thanks to acts like MC Hammer, Vanilla Ice, LL Cool J and others. But the new guys didn't bother to understand the culture behind rap. They have for the last two decades or so been raping our ears with meaningless sonic garbage.' - Complaining about wannabe rappers who took the pimping/gangsta facade so far, they became caricatures of the hip-hop heroes

'I love jazz. I just wish it had more lyrics.' - On why his music is clearly influenced by jazz licks

'I am not wedded to any genre.' - Refuting claims that he is an aspiring hip-hop artiste

'How is Lady Gaga a "lady"? Saying "Lady Gaga" is a contradiction in terms. It's like saying "hot ice" or "Kibera millionaires".'

'I don't know why people say Madonna is not a good singer. She's a great singer. Her work from the late '80's to the mid '90's was especially good. As a vocalist, she's right up there with Celine Dion and Mariah look-at-my-boobs Carey.'

'I am so old-school, I still refer to rock music as "Rock & Roll".'

‘I don’t wear bling because I have a heart of gold.’



ON FASHION...

'Of course Italy is a fashion capital - the entire country is shaped like a boot.'



ON LITERATURE...

‘Kenyan publishers are not that bad: at least when they reject your manuscript, they write the rejection (note) personally.’

‘I was born to be a storyteller – even my dreams have a full cast of characters and a twist in the tail.’

‘One of the reasons I like writing so much is the flexibility of the hours: they bend like rubber.’ – ‘Angela On My Mind’ (short story), Angela On My Mind
‘At heart, I am just a guy who likes to tell stories.’ – On why he doesn’t stick to one genre, writing everything from stage plays to novels.

‘I will never retire from writing. I’ll probably die in the middle of (writing) a sentence.’

'As a spy writer, I approach the drama genre like a tourist, taking note of anything that’s mildly interesting.'

'I have seen the furure and e-books work.'

'I want to talk about humility. But before I talk about humility, let me reiterate that I am the greatest living writer.'

' "I write what I want." Steve Biko said that, but I use it so often, it might one day be attributed to me.'

'I have written so many books that I haven't read some of them.'
'It's not that I'm anti-establishment, it's just that I'm always looking for easier and faster ways of doing the same old things.' - On his many innovations, especially in literature

‘I’ve got all these ideas running through my head like migrating wildebeest.’ – On planning to release several books in the year 2008 alone

‘Like Panasonic, I have ideas for life.’ – On being the first Kenyan to put out a POD book / e-novel

‘The Internet made me.’ – On relying on Internet technologies for most of his earnings.

'Talent is not enough...Dreams are not enough...You have to learn to market and sell your product, even if your "product" is yourself.' - Talking to Spanish interviewer


 
ON SPORTS...

''Makeshift goalposts were designated using pullovers or shoes and referees were as rare as European royalty at a reggae concert.'- ‘A Game For Heroes…If You Believe the Hype’ (short story)

'As all golfers and surfers know, the wind is a fickle mistress and cannot be relied upon.' - ‘A Game For Heroes…If You Believe the Hype’ (short story)
' "Exciting" is a dull word to describe the pro wrestling business.'



ON POLITICS...

'These guys (politicians) lie all the time. They can tell you they buy Playboy for the articles and expect you to believe it.'

'It’s not like Western governments were doing any cheerleading for us when we were peaceful.' - Addressing Kenya's descent into chaos after the 2007 presidential election.'

'Reactions to emerging details (about the 1994 Rwandan Genocide) were slower than a striptease.' - 'Harvest of Blood', (short story), Angela On My Mind

‘I don’t remember the collapse of the first East African Community, mainly because I wasn’t born yet.’ – During the 2007 talks to restore the EAC which collapsed in 1977

'If religion is the opium of the masses, then politics is the marijuana: It is cheap, commonplace, highly addictive, can be good but is often harmful and gives people a euphoric high that only lasts for a short time before reality comes crashing in.'

'If I'm politically correct, it's by accident. Even when I was a child, I never cared much for political correctness or conformity.'

'What we need is Africa 2.0 - A new version of Africa. A United States of Africa.'


'There are 50 states that make up the US; there are 53 countries that make up Africa. If we can have a United States of America then there's no reason why we can't have a United States of Africa.'

'There's food for though here, but let us not go into a feeding frenzy. There's enough for everyone.' - On the feasibility of a United States of Africa.

'Kenyans are way too obsessed with politics. I knew this shoemaker when I lived in Lang'ata who wouldn't even turn up for work if there was a political rally to be attended. His makeshift workstation had no shelter and he lived in the nearby Kibera slum and yet, he was still content to discuss duelling politicians all day. The politicians themselves lived in mansions and were flush with money...Many Kenyans are like that shoemaker. Politics are inevitable but do we have to dwell on them 24/7? There are other things in the world - there's tourism and agriculture, there's sports and entertainment.'



ON SOCIETY...

‘I love people – and I have the scars to prove it.’

'I don't like know-it-alls. In other words, I don't like competition.'

‘I see things in black and white. To me, Robin Hood was a thief and Cinderella was a social climber.’ – ‘I Tell You True’ (unreleased)

'I once dated a Miss Tourism model who turned out to be more like Miss Disappointment...it turned out that she wore padded bras."

‘I never pay critics any mind: I just let their criticisms pass harmlessly through me, like neutrinos.’
(A neutrino, in physics, is an elementary matter particle with no atomic mass. Neutrinos, shot out of the sun, pass through our bodies every day.)


‘Old age creeps up on you like a mugger on the streets of Nairobi.’

‘If men like clean girls, then how come prostitution is the world’s oldest profession?’ – Sex and the City: Kenyan Prostitutes in London (article)

'Don't make fun of women. If anything, they're the cornerstones of the community.' - Reacting to an online ad that suggested that a winged sanitary pad is the ideal pack for an Apple iPad

 


ON NATURE...

'I never interfere with nature unless it is absolutely neccesary. I don't even interrupt insects if I catch them mating inside my house. I do, however, wish they would be more dicreet about there sexual encounters: a white wall provides very little camouflage.'

'Her eyes were as blue as the cloud-starved African sky / that arched above us like the Sistine painting by Michaelangelo.' - Someone in Africa Loves You (poem), The Moon is Made of Green Cheese

'The El Nino weather phenomenon was in force and the icy wind was as deadly as the Devil’s own breath.'- A Cold day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'

‘They were enjoying their first date at a small restaurant a few days later when a tornado ripped through the area like the wrath of God.’ - What’s Wrong With This Picture? (play)

'A blood orange African horizon, and the rising sun like a raw egg yolk.' - Life as a Disease, 'Angela on My Mind'

'It was another cold day, the morning breeze a worthy rival to arctic winds.' - A Cold day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'

'...the sky was an abstract painting of purple and pink and orange.' - Kiss, Commander, Promise, 'Angela on My Mind'

'It didn't even look like the sun! It was so big and full and beautiful, it looked like a sister planet - something out of a Flash Gordon comic strip.' - A Game for Gentlemen



FROM LITERARY WORKS ...

‘A spray emanates from the shoe and the Henchman collapses, dead as chivalry.’ – What’s Wrong With This Picture? (play)

'As we wait and watch, a sulphur-yellow Hummer 3 zooms past, sticking out from the mostly dark vehicles like an albino in the Million Man March.' - 'Kiss, Commander, Promise' (spy story), Angela On My Mind

'My first port of call was the mortuary where the MP’s cadaver lay on a slab, post-autopsy, like the victim of an alien abduction.'- A Cold Day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'

'A few drunkards stagger home or lie on the filthy ground like broken dolls.' - Life as a Game (film script)

'... and although the sari she wore exposed her presentable mid-riff, her breasts were carefully concealed, like weapons of mass destruction.' - 'Rude Was the Shock' (short story), Angela on My Mind

‘A virus is the smallest parasite in the business.’ – Life as a Disease (short story), Angela On My Mind

‘There is a time to walk and a time to run; a time to spy and a time to refrain from spying.’ - 'Kiss, Commander, Promise' (spy story), Angela On My Mind

‘The police residence was densely populated – rumours would swirl around us like flies over a dead dog.’ - ‘Angela On My Mind’ (short story), Angela On My Mind

'...the seven Israeli legislators...were now sitting around an elliptical Formica table, as silent as the faces on Mt.Rushmore.' - The Tommorrow Soldiers, 'Angela on My Mind'

‘Hard words they were and they hurt like punches.’ – The World is Upside Down (poem), The Moon is Made of Green Cheese

'As the getaway car zoomed down Uhuru Highway, navigated the roundabout with Haile Selassie Avenue and headed on towards Nyayo Stadium, the Hyundai stuck to it like a cheap pair of trousers.' - 'Kiss, Commander, Promise' (spy story), Angela On My Mind

'Nonsense! I avoid cliches like the plague!' - Character in 'The Smartest Guy in the Boardroom'

'... and although the sari she wore exposed her presentable mid-riff, her breasts were carefully concealed, like weapons of mass destruction.' - Rude Was the Shock, 'Angela on My Mind'

'I don't remember saying that - but it sounds like something I'd say.' - Asked if the line 'Police intelligence is an oxymoron' is attributable to him. (He actually wrote in the script for the movie 'The War Room')

'Doctors are the gods of the new millennium.' - The Tomorrow Soldiers, 'Angela on My Mind'

'Night and day, Maggie fumed. Her mind went to and fro like a caged tiger.' - When the Whirlwind Passess

'The Mercedes lurched forward and managed to catch the tail-end of the yellow light. ' - Life as a Disease, 'Angela on My Mind'

'Tall, lean and with greying hair, he (the doctor) wore a white dustcoat and smiled like a magician entertaining kids.' - A Cold day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'

‘The press. They’re as inevitable as death and taxes.’ – A Konkodi as President, Matatu magazine (2007)

'The problem was the amount of pepper and spice in the stews. By the time that curve collection, Devi, came to my rescue, I was sweating bullets.' - Rude Was the Shock, 'Angela on My Mind'

‘I was born as the credits were rolling up on the Seventies.’ – ‘A Game For Heroes…If You Believe the Hype’ (short story)

A Little Something-Something for Lovers (rap lyrics)

Oh, man! I think I just found my "Miss Right"
She has the face, the body, height is just right
But too many men after you, could start a street fight
Most of these guys don’t know how to treat a girl right
Give them the goodies, they’ll disappear after one night
But not me, I wonna make you ma wife
Take you to my crib, smooth limousine ride
Get in, cool décor, candles burning in the dim light
Slip in a CD, Barry Can’t-Get-Enough White
These days, relationships are complex
Women want love, commitment, not just plain sex
But try me, baby, I’ll pass all of your tests

Maybe (poem)

Maybe there’ll be a return to Paradise,
Maybe mankind will reverse environmental degradation,
Maybe poachers will give elephants and rhinos a break,
Maybe the Sahara will turn back into a lake,
Maybe there’ll be a farewell to arms,
Maybe the clouds of war will drift away
And the sun of peace will shine down on us,
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll live to be a hundred,
Maybe MTV will go back to playing music
Instead showing us houses and cars,
Maybe people will no longer be judged by skin colour,
Maybe Martin Luther King Jr. will speak again!
Maybe Mandela will rule again,
Maybe Michael Jackson will be black again.
Maybe the pharaohs will rise again,
Maybe the Vikings will sail again,
Maybe John Wayne will ride again,
Maybe Princess Di will smile again,
Maybe Jackie O. will shine again,
Maybe Marilyn Monroe will love again,
Maybe the dinosaurs will breathe again,
Maybe the world will be more sane…
But I somehow doubt it.


(c) Alex N Nderitu
http://www.alexandernderitu.com/


Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at:
http://stores.lulu.com/NewShakespeare

The Pope is Getting Married (poem)

'They say all poets must have an unrequited love...'- Terence Trent D’arby, Holding on To You

The Pope is getting married.
He must be, or you wouldn’t have come here, girlfriend,
Asking – nay, begging – that we give our love another chance.
You had better believe we have reached a dead end:
The only way I’m taking you back is if the impossible happens,
Like the Pope marries or nuns striptease over the weekend.

How could you do what you did to me?
We were as close as two people could possibly be.
We lay so close that we shared the same air,
Our limbs entangled in an octopus-like snare.
We talked about everything from terrorism to nail care.
And then I find out that you’re having an affair.

When I first saw you walking hand-in-hand with “him”,
I thought it must be your twin sister – I was that dim!
And then I remembered the many “business trips”,
Phone conversations in hushed tones, cold unresponding lips…
And that was when the scales finally fell from my eyes:
Our relationship was a tiny ship floating on a sea of lies.

Why couldn’t you just come clean and tell the truth –
Say that you no longer harboured feelings for me?
What did you think I’d do? Refuse to set you free?
Shoot at you like that sniper from the movie ‘Phone Booth’?
I’m sure Honesty is buried deep in some forgotten graveyard:
Nobody’s truthful anymore – Honesty didn’t even die hard.

By all means, put your mind at ease, girlfriend,
I’ll take you back; the drama has come to an end.
We’ll go back to the way things used to be:
I’ll call you ‘cupcake’ and you’ll call me ‘pooh bear’,
I’ll open doors for you and give you back my house key,
We’ll pillow-talk for hours, the same oxygen we’ll share.

But before re-union, the following events must transpire:
The Pope must get married (The church bells will rock the spire!),
Wolves and sheep must reach a consensus,
Temperatures in Hell must fall below 4 Degrees Celsius,
Politicians everywhere must stop lying to us
And windy pastors become more time-conscious!


(c) Alex N Nderitu
http://www.alexandernderitu.com/


Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at:
http://stores.lulu.com/NewShakespeare