Two sentences in and your mind has given up. After all, there are other brief reads that populate your attention. The span of which hasn't stretched to this sentence. And if it has, you begin to reach for the ending of this elongated verbal expression displayed in a muted tone. That is the pain of a scribe; the ability to write with emotional rhyme and not be felt. Nor be heard or worse still, read. But such is life. Beauty is in expression, not reception.
"I write for the thoughts that never got a second chance. And the thought the never got a chance or a second. These are the thoughts that lurk in the back of our minds. Hard to find coz they're confined the back of......."
"kuna wengi. wengine ni wale wilioleta raha bila Mombasa. hapo ni mengi. shida bila furaha. hata kama yeye ni mkali, amekosa ladha kama senti. msupuu wa manoti hakosi flavor. yeye ako kila siku na resources aina ya benki. as in, you can bank on Her being the one that shikiliaz you hadi unadai umepita dunia bila deni. but you owe her one. kwa vile yeye sio mtu wa kuchekelea upuzi wako kama Wendy. huyo dame ako na ufala wa kujifanya kama anaezana na storo ya kuwa number one, lakini amejaa ushenzi. nimemkataa. zii. hapana. hata kama inabidi kuvumilia ukavu, siwachilii hii mbavu. nimekalia fensi. kujidai humpty dumpty. nangoja yule anayeleta utulivu wa fikira. yea, i keep wishing kwa vile history yangu imeonyesha wako, lakini sio plenty. waliomo nikupitia hadi....sisemi!"
mitishamba ~ mlima wa milima
"majani ya green: yes, redundancy"
"sanaa is kiswahili for sculpture; piece of art. a sculpture is an 'image of'. what a mirror serves. 'who is the fairest?!' these are the daily struggles of those afraid of the sun. imitations of everything dark. rather word be a reflection, than face what lies in truth as the image of earth. people of dirt. real farmers that give water connecting points between fish and birds. a tree as the sculptor of the bridge transporting thirst. this water's divide makes the scales of a fish become feathers, the temperature's watch. the waters are warming, birds of the Sahara warn. deserted people remain stuck contemplating how to build an image that will surface as their's, a tree. wooden parts that need a carpenter, a real farmer to turn them, even in water, into a living perch. an art form. idea then sanaa, or two to one." mitishamba ~ in Woman i trust. 'green carving'
....is the second human too. why place yourself second, then first to, if any, an accomplishment?! i mean, it's an oxymoron to deem oneself the first second person to have done anything first, secondly. mind boggling. this small inferance that arrives at the conclusion that what a black man accomplishes must be measured against another race, in my opinion, places an unnecessary responsibility for a black person to compete. constantly. as in, constantly. competing in other people's races, thus forgetting to participate in theirs. or too tired to do so. possibly from chasing the ghost of being the best when that position has already been arrived at. perceptively so, however. greatly done to where being second class becomes self inflicted. the first black person to?! the first black person to use their beings, their temples, in an effort to showcase that what God gave them, needs another's blessing. as though there exists a need to have one's existence checked at the door. verified then stamped as yes indeed, you are of other human completion. they are, after we got. my God, She seconds none. and thirdly, She knows no rank. no rant is better in prayer. no child needs more favor. and She knows that, it is better be the second Mother, than the first half."
"the essence of my blog is such that i present clearly with fog what i faith is. i believe God is a Woman. why?! i also had to ask. well, because She talks too much. and in so doing - since talking has been established an action - a presence of introspection She enacts. in part because there's no way that after creating, a male looks at the track. She, however, can recount with absolution the steps taken up to the point of impact. a collision of organs that gravity keeps intact. She knows art. he simply knows parts. direction, but not where to actually arrive at. only She can dress Her boy as the brother because a man's identity is Hers to match. in any way, i can go on and on about what verses speak of whom and wombs but i'd rather be a man coz that's too big a load to carry on One's back. yes, anywhere on earth only She can."
mitishamba...in Woman i Trust.
"batman vs Her greenery"
"except She is dark. wrong color but the right shade makes Her stand apart. Her beauty a question mark. beholder, why take Her being as lark?! what isn't funny is how much She has been cast down for Her bark. left to answer as to why Her skin in social statuses is stark. or the definition of what is pretty from the start. She is despised inspite Her ability to allow the other woman an opportunity at creating a spark. a chance at being the subject of beauty, an attachment of perpetuity in every man's heart. at this, i know She laughs. comedy at the sight of men whenever a light-skinned harps. she often gathers them like noah's arks. her life an amusement park. good to look at but engineered to be a shark. if layers were to be peeled like an onion, it is her getting darker while the Juicier Berry remains intact. she is pretty, but make sure the heart is not dark."