Saturday, December 8, 2012

Kwani LitFest - Paranoid

As artists, we always want to develop our talent, revamp our skills, sample ourselves as a brand and take it to the next level. Poets, sculptors, drawers, and painters like to approach it from another perspective. Any slight appreciation of our work and realization of the complexity and depth displayed by our art propels us further. Every acknowledgement is a log of wood in that kiln that keeps our steam engine pumping. In a crowd of fifty, those ten people that understood what you were saying or your masterpiece, are worth every second of creativity utilized. Being a Kenyan Somali poet after the rise of the barbaric militia, Al Shabaab, is not easy here .You smile through a lot of scrutiny and stereotype. Being labelled a terrorist by people who don't even know you and have never seen you in their lives. Performing to a crowd of people confused whether to listen to you or fear you.  Kenya as a Nation, is blessed with resources and brilliant people but we are cursed with our tribal approach to many things. This stretches as far as our politics. The poem down below is a rant, I will be performing it at Kwani Literature Festival tomorrow. I am excited to see my heroes on stage.

This Sunday 9th, of December 2012, I am beyond humbled to share a stage with African living legends. Among them are :-

- Warsan Shire -  is a Kenyan-born Somali poet and writer who is based in London. Born in 1988, she has read her work internationally, more recently in South Africa, Italy and Germany. This lady is an inspiration to many.

- Haadrawi - Quite notably distinguished as the best Somali poet living.

- Nawal El Saadawi - An Egyptian feminist and freedom fighter, among the authors in the High School set book,  Half a day and other stories. She graduated from the University of Cairo Medical College in 1955, specializing in psychiatry, and practiced as a medical doctor until taking the position of Director General for Public Health Education in the Ministry of Health. In 1972 she lost her job in the Egyptian government because of her banned book: Woman and Sex.

- Jamal Mahjoub - was born in London and raised in Khartoum. His stories and essays have appeared in The Guardian, Le Monde, Die Zeit and other publications around the world. His novels have been widely translated and won a number of awards including, the Guardian/Heinemann African Short Story Prize, the NH Vargas Llosa prize and the Etonnants Voyageurs Prize.
 and many more...

This will be one of the pieces I will be performing. 


A tear drops cold,
Rolled  on the cheek tracks,
Bold on the outside,
Gullible inside,
Animal insight,
These sights, this site,
Snow this white,
Still, snow white,
Her face so white....
Life poisoned...
This is the story of life's paradox,
Low hums, measured breaths, I start this poem,
They said you have a weak character if you did not come from Europe or America,
We were inferior that even our dreams failed to match our superiors, when we closed our eyes, we saw shackles,chains and whips under our eyelid's interiors,its, we went from learning in college, to buying knowledge, paying homage to our ego centrism, ethnocentrism running deep in our blood streams, bad dreams,world grim, facts seem,twisted. Supreme regimes run this world. 

I am paranoid, all these conspiracy theories,in diaries of an innocent muslim do seem to get under my skin and are tearing every dermal layer,
i need every humble prayer,
sample player to play the fusing amazing music of my musings,cruising in my mind, my central system,nervous,
sending chills through my epithelial tissues,
issues when I kiss my girl goodbye when I leave home because Ive grown a tall goatee, and im not near fourty, my position far from lofty, policemen, mostly the ones naughty stop me and force me to produce my identification roughly....KIJANA WAPI KITAMBULISHO? NA UNAFUGIA NANI NDEFU NA HUJAFIKA MIAKA YA KUMEA MAFUZI?UNAFANYIA KAZI ARSHAPAPU?WE WARIA YA WAPI?

I am a tonne paranoid,
I beg you to see past my fault of wrongful assault, 

default my dreams of the bitterness of taking this poem with a grain of salt,
halt my mixture of fear and anger,lock them in a vault,
exalt me to your level of intelligence for in as much as im Somali by Origin, im Kenyan by Nationality, 

So I hover to the sky feeling, relieved from the crust kneeling, dealing with awkward stares from once upon a time, friends, after the recent bombing trends because im suddenly a terrorist as my hair is soft, my complexion suspicious and my religion muslim. Fear results to panick which results to ignorance which leads to irrationality.

So before you switch your mode to destroy, think of yourself as a decoy, deployed by western nations to finish their kill ploys....i am paranoid.

I cant seem to rest, for I feel,like the rest,they are spying for the next gullible pest,
and I feel like they are using the whole sat elite system to guess the estimate of the size of the beating flesh that rest within my chest, 
arrest me if you want to.
I feel like they are coming for me...
But armed with these neural linguistic,semantics ,drastic and psychic prowess I AM READY FOR THEM.
Or may be not....

I choose to sleep, to dream,
But these dreams haunt me,
I dream negatively,
In my dreams, I sail beneath the dark streets of gotham, my safety lying on the back of a bat. Shedding burning tears of a world in a mist of devastation,
Where the only hope to a new revolution, is losing brothers and sisters to stampedes and mass action protests,
We profess to protest and protect our lives only when we feel right and so, we get pinned down like flyers on boards.
But I chose to smile because the joker in this Dark Knight urges me to smile, to keep colours.
To smile when I bleed, to smile when in need.
To smile so that when freed, from these burning chains and shackles,
We will be,
joyously sad.
We will accept one another, Wairimu will marry, Omondi and Ahmed will be invited for tea every weekend. For with love, we get to feed the empty rumbling stomachs of a hundred tortured souls that starve us, of freedom.

And For the ones that lost their lives, in street pararades and mosques and church crusades when those animals, guns they sprayed, blew grenades...i prayed. May your souls rest in eternal peace.
And for these brutal animals,may your souls rest in eternal piss, from the kidneys of the children you left without parents and the parents you left childless. 
God has plans for the heroes and the villains. 
And lastly, let us use spoken word to bridge the gap between the informed and the ignorant who are swayed everyday into terrorist camps. 
Peace, love, unity and more peace,love and unity.

Alas, the brittle glass cuts through soils and spoils of war,
Body recoils and toils in low,
Hums and measured breathes, I dream, my pen bleeding on this empty desperate page,
Like my veins were slit for it,
My tongue vibrating on this empty desperate stage,
Creating this mental invisible connection with it, so I pray not to wake up....let us all dream, but in my dream, I VENT!!!

Thursday, September 20, 2012


This was my 1st ever attempt at erotic poetry!!!

You were my objective at first glance!


When you changed my life,
i started dreaming,
dreams of the day i would not use my genitals nor lips,
but my teeth to tear apart those hips,
suck and feed your blood,
then shower and bleed with your words!

A dream,
i dream,
of a day our mental and sexual stimulation,will be overcomed by this erotic starvation...
Creating a mental unification,
as you tear the flesh in my back with your two inch nails,
blood dripping besides me,
as i continue to dig deep inside your luscious entry,with
thunderous thrusts after thunderous thrusts,
making love to you as you switch your nails to my tummy,
tearing it apart,
as my legsize organ keeps pumping inside you violently,
Oohs,and aaaahs!
My stomach half torn,
as i thrust harder inside you,
overcoming my orgasm,
overcuming this sensuous liquid inside you,
showering your walls with this holy fluid...
Stretching the climax,defying the sex odds,
defying the sex codes,
now coming blood inside,blood on my back,
blood on my tummy,
milky blood on your half eaten nipples,
blood everywhere!
Bloody screams,bloody sex!
Bloody love!
Bloody picture painted clear,


Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Tattered Remains

Shielded by the Anglo Saxon helmet,
Fueled by the ambition of a great macedonian king,
I find,
Freedom, Forever.
Tonight, hate will conquer, and love shall concur,
Tonight, Cupid will be slaughtered, and heartbreaks will prosper,
By morning: blood and sweat will mix on the floor,
On it, a virgin's prayer will be answered.
Sheets will be stained. Clothes will be tattered, an organ shall be crucified, Lust shall be quenched,
One party will be satisfied...
Tears will be shed, promises will be whispered before they are broken,
Feelings will be burried before they are woken,
She will recollect her torn self, look in the mirror as if stretching to stab her reflection,
She will cry for days on end,
flash backs of her barrier mercilessly bombarded by thunderous thrusts of rock solid flesh.
He will console her, "Walls have to be brought down me lady, to celebrate world unity, remember Berlin?"
Her heart will ache in pain and agony, her felony; love and harmony,
Distanced out from her distant past, when she distanced herself from close distances between her body and a man's.
The slight touches, kisses around her ears, the surface lick on her breasts, and the burning urge to be destroyed guided her to this misery.
A month passes, she pukes, she feels weak, has a funny taste in her mouth. She fears the worst, she confirms it, she picks the phone, dials a number, "MTEJA"
In panick, she dials another number, "Hi, I'm currently away from the phone, please leave a message after this b...."
She cuts it, puts the phone down and sobs. Her life thrown away because of another life growing inside her, the IRONY!!

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Track Team Ltd: Sophia

So I have these two friends who are geniuses in sound production. Karim and Stevo have been endlessly debating on when they will setup a studio of years on end. With me pestering them of course because I am a huge hip hop fan and when you listen to beats that these people compose, you will not think local. Mark my words until when they blow. 
They finally set their studio (Track Team Ltd) within South C, Mugoya and the ambiance is unmatched. Equipped with the best international production gadgets, you will see the new King producers blazing the industry really soon.

Yeah I know, blah blah blah, this is my poetry blog and I shouldn't be posting such stuff here, Okay!!! Poleni...Here is "Sophia" my personal favorite poem finally on youtube and yes, it was recorded at Track Team Ltd Studio. Various poets also recorded, just check the related videos. Among them, Nemesis aka Man Njoro, The mighty Abu Sense, the one man band, freestyler, rapper, poet and beat boxer, CHECKMATE, the real Achieng and many more. Enjoy. 

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

The School Bell Rings: El Poet and Samo

How are you doing people? Its been long since I posted something huh? Well, The School Bell Rings is finally here. I hope it is worth the wait for everyone. This is a collaboration I did with my mentor, Samo & TheAlmighty based on Ambition that we all have. Riveting and purposeful posted just before Slam Africa this Friday, below is the Poster then after the piece. Enjoy these two worlds. 

(Verse 1- Samo And The Almighty)
...the school bell rings
St. Peter standing at the Pearly gates
I’ve made it just in time for the opening sequence of my life
I snuck into God’s pocket
Went to sleep in a dark knight, dreamt up inception, now the dark knight rises…
life is but a dream to me
cue the Black lights-..
I heard every teardrop is a waterfall
but this tear drop starts with a Massive Attack
that means I’m playing House, Gregory House
be a Wilson and get me my morphine drip
I'm at the Amen corner; they call it destiny’s door
my vision- a staircase to a hug with no hands
my eye- on the highway, I’ll be playing chicken soon
the poetry-my passion, the pen-my pain
my words -a dance floor, I touch souls
so enlightened, I’m glowing in the dark
took a roll in the Hay, I’m sharing thoughts with Yusef Komunyakaa
No circus in the sky, I danced with Ben Okri
find me in poetic nirvana, lost in Sade
she pulled the stars and lay them at my feet
My pyramids facing the sun, she readied me to be Pharaoh
a Soldier of Love, she kissed me with the curse of Sisyphus
Now I carry the World on my shoulders,  padded shoulders, 
So  enVogue, you could call me Mrs. Doubtfire
with a needle I thread Benjamin's button
with a needle I broke Benjamin
Like Benjamin  Little I broke my fingers, lost my hands
grew sleeves, rolled them up
now I’m pushing HEAVEN, God calls me Ambition
feel me bubbling bubbling bubbling
and yet I slowed down, just to smell the ‘lotus flowers’,
I’m walking through my garden of memories
I’m with the love of my life; she’s a ‘Radiohead’
And yes I have a business card, my name’s Charles the First
Her name’s Qalbi, her occupation- my heart
Her love my scripture, Quran meet Bible
We met in a 'Paper flying moment', love in 'M.I.A.'
she played saxophone
That David's secret chord, I played Goliath
Now she has me on tip-toe- the irony is she's the Black Swan
Our shadows crossed, I ‘hope’ to die
die Drunk, like Daniel in the lion’s cage
In a blaze of fire like Joan of Arc
or stoned to death, Amy Winehouse
Can you see the Blue sky? 
"Common Sense" dictates the Lord is coming through
So my nightstand is a painting of open Bibles,
broken Buddha heads,  Blown out candle lanterns, 
and my ghost of lovers past slithering Lord Voldermorts in my ear
saying, "Beauty sleep is such a beast"
so I go to bed  Martin Luther King
-with bullet holes in my dream
and yet all I want is to find that Devil they call Faith
to find freedom, anyone have Dobby's sock?
to be the ringleader of my own circle, anyone know Google plus?
or just set this freaking World on fire
give me one prayer, I need to speak to one God
But Nas, God is a concept by which we measure pain
John Lennon.
So before Basquiat says 'Samo Is Dead'
How will they remember me? 
For 33, Coitus Interruptus or Dictator?
when my Russell Crowes Maximus:
The mob  screaming
“Spaniard, Spaniard, Spaniard”
and Poseidon s winning the fight,
dragging me off this Earth in the arms of the ocean
I swear to you it will be on both feet
Never knees in the dirt
Mr. Samo and The Almighty
Tell them
I’m Pocahontas, I’m Aladdin, I’m Peter Pan
I’m the beauty and I’m the beast
I’m Popeye,I’m super mario, i’m liu kang
I’m shoshana in French riviera, with a cigarette and a novel
I’m in the back of Havana playing Hova
I’m Che Guevara spit, I’m esco and i’m sosa
I’m Michelangelo, stark naked in his undies
I'm the Princess of China in an elephant costume
dreaming about para-para-paradise
I’m Mr. Feel Good Inc. 
Yes I’m going Gorillaz
But tonight, I’m Charles The First 
A Basquiat
El Poet, remember- 'Most young Kings get their head cut off'
I'm done with this
It’s your turn to rule
Goodnight Qalbi
....The school bell rings...

(Verse 2- El Poet)
Heaven cannot brook two suns, nor earth two masters.
The school bell rings,
New assignment, due next week; Rule the World,
I rise above tears of the fallen slaves,
Waves, cycling to the calling caves,
Graves, hollow and scary, saves,
My throne,
Ruler of verity,
Bringer of serenity,
I am your king, CROWN ME.

They paint pictures with a thousand words,
But I give you a thousand words,
Get the picture????
I preach to you with a thousand verses,
Get the scriptures???
Dark clouds gather, Gotham sleeps, Metropolis trembles,
My empire state of mind rules, New York City assembles,
I write to calm fear but my words strike hate,
Taking me through curves and loops like the number 8,
So when Adele set fire to the rain and became so tense,
I stabbed the leprechaun, stole the gold and burnt down the rainbow to clear the evidence.
They call it ego, but I thrive in a dirty love triangle,
Me myself and I,

My heart is jail broken,
Steve Jobs, Rest in Peace,
It broke out of its prison; I call my rib cage,
Tore my lungs out to express its artistry,
Harry Houdini…
So when I die, only burry me six feet under,
Before you tell them I was down to earth,

Tell them I was a righteous man,
Tell them to praise my memories,
Remind them how this soul was hot, how it set fire on stage,
Tell them my existence was a possibility waiting to be birthed into the revolution,
My soul was Che Guevara and the bullet that tore off Malcom’s skin,
And if Spoken Word is the machine, I am the young king lost in controversy with a GPS device searching for redemption.
I am blood I am fear, I am the motivation behind Rosa Park’s vision,
I am the true essence of poverty,
Rich in the mind hopeless in the streets.

Born in the Nile, Raised by the Euphrates, commanded the seven seas, poisoned by Aristotle,
Passed, reincarnated in the future, transgressed to immortality, moulded to perfection, drenched with brutality.
They call me king of kings,
Ruler of all realms,
Conquered the son of Ned Stark, I am Ironman from the iron clad clan, call me Tony Stark.
A victor in this game of Thrones.
I am a master of the world, slave to destiny
REMIND THEM, Tell them…..
Tell them,
How I was a merciless leviathan
Attempting to row the mighty seas and internal thunder pleas,
I dream to conjure up these, so that my ambition breaks the violent thunder breeze,

I bow, Kanye, Power Clap,
I freeze, Snow White, Power Nap,
I pant, Forest Gump, Power Lap,
This poem is an epigram,
A villanelle,
And I the ruler,
So I soothe my subjects to make love to my predicates,
Hence my words wet,
Satisfaction, as I soothe her hyacinth hair, kiss her luring lips,
Softly caressing her tender hips, trips on it, grips on it,
Let her show later scars,
From my similes and metaphors,
I close my eyes, to reason in braille and I am a millennium flick, a blockbuster,
My soul exists in a world beyond our world,
What we fantasize it does,
It is a driven unflinching, calculating machine that takes what it wants and disappears,
It is Swordfish and I am a poet disguised as its frozen sweat.

I was then matched by an empress from the lands of the Halloween’s past,
Past the coliseum doors fast, cast upon Nicki Giovanni’s bust, busted!
But naked singing, I WILL SURVIVE
And as promised, she came with poise, beauty, power and royalty, for girls,
This piece is my Alchemy and she is my panacea…
Let us heal and Leave This World Behind.

You see spirits collide in the smoke that I breathe,
Molecules ignite in the thoughts that I freeze,
Burning up the bellies of the forgotten cities,
I am the “tupate uhuru” chants in the early sixties,
When people existed in the agony of the decomposed rocks,
When spirits hung free on the mau mau composed locks,
Now I rule over kids with Peter Pan dreams wearing skinny jeans to hinder their growth.

This is what the storm holds beneath its wings,
And if it is not over until the fat lady sings,
I’ll wait to hear what this beautiful melody has to bring,
To spin, into me so that I write in the darkest of nights, show my might in the mightiest of fights, let summer fall in this spring, and bounce to wipe the skies with salt and paper so that my seasoning will make life taste a little better,
But for now, remember I’m just a young king,
Who marked a smile with a razor on a joker’s face,
And asked him why so serious????
I am the hero to my story and the villain to my end,
This is my comic strip…
And like the hard footprints embedded on the soft crust of the legends that passed before me,
I will live to leave trail behind for those after me,
My reign will not end but last the eternity, for;
I am powerful, I am a warrior unleashed, I am Darius, I am Alexender,I am Augustus FitzRoy, 3rd Duke of Grafton, I am a freedom fighter, I am a young King,
And I will rule my world until I am held to my throat bread bleeding by the blade of my Queen,
And if asked who I was, I will not whisper, nor mumble nonchalantly but I will tell them I was, HUMAN…
And even if they cut my arms and palms away, the world will still remember that I came in HANDY
The School Bell Rings

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Mothers Day Special: My Queen

Few words could describe her,
Explain what's inside her,
She is from the decency of cleopatra,
Sade's rhythm flows in her veins,
To me she is the bringer of light,
With might that might,
Make one's soul bright,
A angel in my world,
A queen in other realms,

She is the energy in young rivers,
The lining in clouds silver,
The warmth when I shiver,
Sieve her, into your mind
And she is the vision Rosa Park fought for,
The hope Benazir Bhutto bled for,
She is the true definition of beauty than transcends across
All ages,
With youth and vigor that could raise families,
And breed populations,

She is the life behind Sade's voice,
She is the perfect tune that blocks all this noise,
She is the queen of queens,
And Masses clear when she passes,
Evil fears when she glances,
To me, she rules all realms of thought,
And she is in the covers of all history greats,
She gave birth to this King,
She is a template for parenthood,
But more specifically,
She is my mom....
And I love her

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

A New Beginning: This Poem

This poem,
A toast:
To a new beginning,
This poem is about hope, resurrection, resurgence, revivification, revitalization, redemption reincarnated on the walls of the battle of the centaurs’
This poem is the elegance in the strides of Madonna, climbing the stairs to view “Madonna of the Stairs”
Rest in peace Michelangelo.

When the wine spills, my mind feels like a mine field,
Dripping regrets as my spine splits,
Mind wilts, like deciduous leaves,
Waiting for spring to spring back to a new life;
 A new beginning.
Lets start all over,
Before its all over, 
Lets all hover, over this blue print, 
Poets, lets play with words and enlighten so that we put a smile on these kids in IDPs before;
They R.I.P, Rest in Pieces, scattered by GRENADE ATTACKS.
Poets, let us create a revolution against ourselves, for we hold the power to change everything.
We have the power of words and endless creativity, 
So let us rank ourselves not by who can drop more punch lines and rhyme more last lines or who can split the word sedative to Sedate Eve, or Pullover to Pull Over, NO!!!
You will be forgotten just after the last snap, clap or nod of approval,
Let us inspire , unite, free, console, challenge and awaken all kind of human emotion with caution,
Let us pick our pens, keyboards, touch pads, memories or any other device used to inscribe inscriptions of sublime descriptions that ignite inspirations which navigate through souls, meditate through forms, and translate through the bond that holds us together. Poetry!

In this Dark night I am a darker knight, guided by words bright that illuminate my path, 
So I write for a new beginning,
A beginning where humans are not racially profiled or tribalistically stereotyped,
A beginning that realizes our dreams, 
A beginning that realizes not all Somalis are Al-Shababs,
Not all Luos are crazy Gor fans,
Not all Kikuyus are Mungikis,
Not all Nairobi University students are doing a Bachelor’s Degree in the art of stone throwing,
Let us write for a beginning that reminds all the above named people that they are humans like us,
They also have a heart that hurts.
A beginning where guns and bombs are archived in museums and pens and tongues are winning in battle fields, I dream that’s how a battle feels,  for I would fight.
Lets end raids in North Eastern cattle fields,and the ethnic cleansing.
Tuandike, tusimamishe watoto kubeba panga,
Wako hardcore na chini ya maji wakosoft kama sabuni ya panga,
Poets we need to write for a new beginning, 
This poem is for a new beginning, 
This poem is for that street child in my hood that is content that she at least has the three basic needs, 
Her skin as her clothing, leaves and trash cans as her food and the skies as the roof of her shelter,
This poem is for the fisherman that knows not about technology but has the waters as his best photographer, endlessly capturing his reflection.
This poem is about the street hawkers revolting against the city council to feed their children.
This poem is for the corrupt politician, the lazy policeman, 
This poem will vote female next year.
This poem,
A toast:
To a new beginning,
This poem is about hope, resurrection, resurgence, revivification, revitalization, redemption reincarnated on the walls of the battle of the centaurs’
This poem is the elegance in the strides of Madonna, climbing the stairs to view “Madonna of the Stairs”
Rest in peace Michelangelo.

Thursday, April 12, 2012


I don't really know how I started off doing spoken word. I always thought my poetry performance would end at High School when I performed at the Music Festivals. I was more into writing because i did not know there were open mic events in Nairobi. This all changed when Nemesis, then, a featured poet at USIU Slam competition, (late 2010) saw my performance and asked me to come at Adelle's open mic and from then I just kept going to new events until I won Slam Africa March 2011 and I still love performing spoken word up to this very moment.
Last month, Yung Nnoiz, Wanjiku Mwaura and I joined the Slam Africa organization and we have this event for you. We want to take Slam Africa to a whole new level, to new realms and this event will offer the benchmark. If you have ever been to Slam, you obviously know the thrill that is attached to it...So this April 20th SLAM AFRICA IS REBORN:- WE BRING YOU...


    Friday, April 20, 2012
    7:00pm until 11:00pm

Dass Ethiopian Restaurant Westlands
This platform created Kings and Queens,Rulers on the stage, Lyrical Gladiators, Mentors, it gave new breath to spoken word poetry.
This stage gave Nairobi Slam Champions like :_

Number 8,
Wanjiku Mwaurah,
Queen Moraa,
Pepe Haze,
The father of Spoken Word in Kenya, Kennet B amongst others like Tear Drops and Achieng.

This April, a new beginning awaits us all. Slam Africa is reborn. It will be bigger, better, and crazier.

Incentive: We have a special collaboration performance by Yung Nnoiz, El poet and Wanjiku Mwaurah that is well choreographed and will blow your minds.

Let us crown our new King or Queen with style and love. Let us build a dynasty.

A token of appreciation will be handed to our Slam King or Queen inclusive of a branded T-Shirt of him or her and other prizes in store for the runner ups.
We invite you all to breathe new life to Slam Africa with us. Crossing our fingers that soon, very soon, THIS REVOLUTION MIGHT JUST BE TELEVISED.


To register for slam Email us at :

The Gate Charge - 500/=

Advance tickets will be sold via Mpesa at 450/= to this account 0724917595

And of course I have to leave you with a piece I wrote sometime back:

Heart Break

I am an emotional retard,

And poetry is boring,

I am a writers bleeding soul,

A character of modern day pornography,

And life is wearing the rubber,

I am a poets last tear,

And a killers masked fear,

I am Akil, son to the sun, formed at the climax of perverted pleasures,

They say only after disaster can we be resurrected, awake,

So I chose to dub this piece,


In the world I see-you are a bleeding elf irked by the tall trees of amazon forests,

In ruins,

You will climb, the wrist-thick pines towering above you, dripping a corrosive mixture of blood and sweat,

And when you look down, you will see your crazy ex girlfriend that lost her mind zipping and unzipping you, lonely,

Abandoned in an abandoned super-highway,

Waving the middle finger!!!

Emotionally drained, you will jump,

Letting it all go, the love, the sex, the first kiss,

You will fall fast, letting it all behind,

The pain, the arguments, the cigarette puff that formed a skull figure,

You will alas! Be free,

Free from the yin and the yang battles,

Of pain and pleasure,

For freedom is only found when all hope is lost,

And when your minds volume is raised and the whole world is put on mute,

You will hear a voice, quoting a favorite movie of yours,

"We have no great war, no great depression,

Our great war is a spiritual war,

Our great depression is our own lives,"

And your not your job, your not how much money you have in your account, your not your handsome or beautiful face, your the horny harmless tiny little fly stuck in a bee-hive hoping to get laid...

No matter how much you try to buzz your way to sexual pleasures,

It will always sting coz you will never be that bee,

Just like sticking feathers up your ass doesn't make you a chicken!!

I am the Queens boyfriend,

A predator disguised as a house-pet,

And she,

She is a millennium flick, a blockbuster,

She is a swordfish,

She exists in a world beyond our world,

What we only fantasize, she does,

She is a driven unflinching, calculating machine who takes what she wants when she wants and disappears,

She is heartbreak and I am a poet disguised as her cold sweat!!

He said, "we are done!!! Self improvement is masturbation and self destruction is celibacy,

So I'll let you do you, and you let me do me"

She looked at him, straight into his pale,life drained red eyes and replied,

"Wrong my love, you will watch the whole world do me, queuing for a piece of the diamond, for self improvement is realization of inner strength, and power and self destruction is realization you had all that in a mate and you let go, and love, your heart just fell victim to a classic saying, sometimes you have to break the eggs to make an omlette."

With a smirk on his face, he replied,

"listen little miss sunshine, emotion has always made you witty with words,

Evolve, let the chips fall where they may,

And in May, come what May, I may be the redundant statement found in in Oliver Twist's shrill voice,

Extra, Extra, Extra!! Read all about it!!


Let not your pain lead you to your destruction,

Have you watched the movie Dark Knight?

I'm helping you die young before you live long enough to be the villain,"

"true," she replied, "emotion has always made me witty, as it is my first name, so you fell in love with my first name and not me, for if you did your research, less is my second name,

Emotion-less is this package,

And for once I will do what I should have done a long time ago, live my name, so I leave you to soak in misery of your own doings,I leave you to rot in your own decomposition, let the odour linger longer than my middle finger,

Adios, human cloned from hades sweat,

Yours truly Emotion Less"

I am pain,

A poets inflamed sense of rejection,

The grim ripper's kiss,

I am an emotional retard,

And poetry is boring,

I am a writers bleeding soul,

A character of modern day pornography,

And life is wearing the rubber,

I am a poets last tear,

And a killers masked fear,

I am Akil, son to the sun, formed at the climax of perverted pleasures,

Riddle me this, if she played her cards so well, with a poker-face,

And still won the lottery, then,

I am the darkness before dawn,

The pain before birth,

The struggle before success,

The freedom after love,


Embrace me!!