Tuesday, July 30, 2013

"from a farmer to a criminal?! Khat in Kenya!"

"Wakulima wenzangu, tulia, calm the heart. Planters with no farm will always use cloaks to dig dirt. The way Mitishamba in a sentence sees it, it's a law meant to turn stable families and future competition into present things to hurt. Or hunt. Turn your fields into grounds of war on plants - cloaked reasons for their kids to show guts. Set up shop. Clean up house. Plowing through 'illegal' trees that make your blessings seem cursed. Jealousy in theory, failed actions written in glory, the blueprint of grains' sprouts is followed eloquently by a harvester with a sheath while a sword plucks. A matador of sorts, oblivious of whether soil views what drips on its face as an animal at work or wanting shed blood. You see, a tree, is its son, and if sacrifices on land must be made with double edges then your blade, my dear farmer, has yet to strike back. After all, facts are thoughts and if dreams lead nights then your steps thus far have left daylight marks on enough leaves, let alone trunks. Rings full of information stored in barks that protect all your efforts against loggers who make you feel wooed with costumed notes filled with fairies and tales of big bucks. The bet is to turn you victim, but take heart in the future thanks to positive seeds penned daily painting an involved nation articulating in unison a building block of things such as mkulima, being young. Leave them calling it khat, silent K's just fight for space in a mouth full of Miraa!"

Mitishamba ~ mwana arthi
"Green plants"
special thanks to for the second to last statement.

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Facing a book ~ Opines

In woman I trust, defend, and desire.

Keari Mitishamba
September 27, 2012 at 11:35am via mobile · 
  • "Birds of prey, my birds just pray and let strays perch on a dead nest where eggs get walls sprayed. Left its mind alone and who enters?! Therefore she is but being herself has another trying to define her ways. Work harder coz humpty n his wails won't change her speech from day. Night gowns and windows dressed looks like wearing light armor has its advantages since cotton mandates they weigh. Scales of thought with snakes on one boat so that nothing infront has a say?! I spit now and order enzymes to digest the following of the one that doesn't have any direction on land as earth sways." Mitishamba...bird weights.

Keari Mitishamba
June 8, 2012 at 9:44am via mobile · 
  • "In a world full of humans....some are used to names others....a jungle. Let reality ring....from the hills of Utopia to the plains of Zealand ring.....from moorhouse to the streets unpaved with roots as speed bumps ring.....from those that own humans because of their weak hearts and are now about to face the reality that awaits them and their dealers ring.....from my thoughts that I utter with the knowledge of Leo's toungue.....ring. Let reality ring....the dream became a reality for all to see but even then they refuse to accept basic facts of a master's key notes....ring. Ring until the evil that is their minds is no more and turns to the dust that we all see earth...ring. Sand dunes for memories saved from those who's memory they tried to erase using their triangulated seas in trade...ring. From the dead's sea I scroll for nothing more than seein them burn for their sins and hurt ring. Let reality ring because they abuse freedom in every act that they perform with malice and hate...ring." Mitishamba.....freedom to speak should have led you to address me as an equal but still undress me with your weak souls so I blind you...bling!!

Keari Mitishamba
November 8, 2012 at 10:53pm via mobile · 
  • "Speak now because forever promises a hold on peace in bits and not fullness as piecing anything together means you haven't yet created something complete. I repeat. Peace now speaks to the ever present hold on whatever piece of full views on any bits that have yet to be filled but come together to be seen fit. Confused?! Take a dip and dive into the concious mind of the one that can create fetes with fragments of tips like the mind works on shreds of calls that wants its own seams stitched. Torn and rough but as rugged as grits with a mixture of corn where husking leaves some words exposed but still most seeds unseen like its using sun screens. Blind stares to Rays blowin Charlise but no haze as clear thoughts compound to functions that intergrate no limits so the sum of my pieces equal exponent speech." Mitishamba ~ Yea! I calculust.

Keari Mitishamba
March 21, 2012 at 10:13am via mobile · 
  • Deepened words that flood thoughts....its just my weekend verbs. Many Phelps the deep end world...only to drown from lack of a detailed mind whose thinking...hurts....So I buy them vowels & get uuu's and aaaa's wit mouth moving like Nemo but lost in the waves of my emotionless touts.

How presently I feel

Maya Wegerif

".......which journal has recorded our histories inside and who is the author?! Bring Bantu Biko back to us and undo those old tongues because these ones are telling us to hush.........."

"Green arts"

Monday, July 22, 2013

Bantu tongue knotting ~ N worded

"N is a Z in motion pictured during capitalism's exploits of letters used by boys on course to man exploring heel. In shoe-talk, glass slipper meet your more desirable counterpart, sleeve. Designed outcomes to stall another's steps during migration reeks of a mind-ego cultivated as glass laps while in heat. She gets easily lost in the woods succumbing to an eagerness to have her slithers multiply as steed. Snakes on a boat! Snakes on a boat!  I know how a silent K can tell of tales of Knowledge of now, the present, while using violence to cure past needs once generations Knead. Molded images face fire, as ceramic outcomes must be kilned for the production of scolding bricks providing a path for a lost kid. Led by prodigal steers, a planter with no farm is quick to whip and slow to seed with priorities meant to limit the germination of any competing skill. Curtailed stilts stunts walks where body-doubles are mixed in to adopt an identity using only one drops, knowing their woman is always quick to dig in. Soiled tents are left uncovered through suggestions of splits. Enter this mocking bird with pride aware that my love's the only one that gets the whole of what is on the inside, hence the first to learn how to wear her expressions on the heel. Booty doubles as I watch her struts amid pirated ships carrying enough junk truncated to fit among flat trunks, to make fair, even her intellect is hid. Earth's woman churns seas turning death valleys into life hills. Since her cover is oft discarded as a mere redundancy of the sun's rays, her tongues capture reflections of any sound performed with zeal. Heart speech as the only word that leaves art free. The root of a tree with tell tale signs of poetry's divine recordings of the only Queen, to conquer Kings."

Queen IAfrika 
'Rasta nuh chat Rasta'

" not look good fi hav locs pon yo head and you a pray fi another man dead....."

Mitishamba ~ In Woman I trust
"Green Voices"  

Saturday, July 13, 2013

11 11 11 ~ Pacifist Time

Rest in the pieces of what gravity makes us - observants.

"Watched the neighbor hood himself as the eye of the whole, for neighbors to look impressed. Were suggestions for any with a gun to be first to show interest?! Or was it a mention of 'many of them are thugs so we need to get one' george, with curiosity as his address?! Monkey seen doing things similar to walking means pursuit of happiness gleans on formerly balanced beams, presently with scales as heavy as skin, body's heaviest organ while heart now rests. Given the trigger says its God's will, thinking for watchmen is a dreadful thing as all final decisions made always exist between two beings and 911 is operated in accordance with the existence of police who would have come and helped george kill the cat, but I digress" Ishmael Mitishamba ~ The Heart has a conscious, residence?!

Comments on an online article full of hateful rebuttals on #trayvonsoul

Blood Ties

"Intertwined lines meant to straighten splines forming a ladder of memory, akin dNA strands with rungs for I to walk on as they are sturdy pulleys that lever my rise. Multiples of three prime at five where additions of what identifies with self can be equally split and the first to audition is ten, sense?! I have doubts, as you mind. But faithfully speaking, stealing imagination en mass isn't as easy as once sought, gents. A Grinch has clout, your Constant in strive. In desperate search of a path to follow you remain in a lost stride since there are no parallels between then and now, only time. Heart beats, maybe, but my art beats laymen since my blood runs as deep as the roots of the Nile whose fluids mirror the flow of arterial routes, sublime. Ventricles oxygenating morons carbonated in alternation by my real dreamers' watch, spine. From a hole but still went different directions, I staid the same, tranquil state, scepter, an anvil spate where every seed planted prequels shrine. Valor galore I will myself suppose in conclusion of what the words of a formerly scarce book thrust up life's canal as birth to evolution, surmised. Surprise! Better yet, define crime, since spreading synthetic broods is its aim, my arms, scribes. Artillery hemoglobin inked on colored plates lest swimmers clot analogous to water meeting dam where Calypso rises to push dutch findings aside. Classifying my single unit into parts will never break its thumbs, which have eyes looking more at instructing my seats than your rides. Boots clop, abused clocks, docked as wooden blocks cast to net any bark covering rings of information on a tree's hide. Aged sets of dirt's breaths that only my love gets that when the captain hooks, he gets neither the beat nor the drum, just guides. Broken gps systems in distress bliss says give it a rest but this tethered nomad on my shadow is continuously studying my birds nest, eyeing what it sees thus wish its animal had wings, eventually goes ire. Mad Men land in muddy streams rowing boats with stolen strings of tying together life in knots as does this Bantu tongue, tried and true, tested in brute, goons of past blown away like chaff as they traversed naming themselves kings in a jungle of my Queens' Prides."

From a hole to a Hill, Joseph
'Humble African'

"Bloody Green!!"      

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

the Wealthy Saint

"If money is the root of all evil then I'm a saint. So the green paint on my hands is just a placebo of wrongdoing. Not used for the purpose its intended but used to create a purpose and I intend to stop pretending that I'm evil coz shiiiit, I pay rent. And with that payment comes another payment followed by another payment that cleans my slate and every account that bares my name thus making my sainthood, permanent. Not being possessed by the the green devil has qualified me to become a devout member of the church of broke, not-a-dollar saints. This church has a lot of members who believe the same green devil can be their savior. So they embark on the behavior of saving up green and spending up green so they can paint pictures of being surrounded with green but really what's around them is nil, zilch, zero, or better yet, a placebo." 

"I own Green don't own me"

Monday, July 8, 2013

I don't Like That

"Smiling manned as though paralyzed from a spinal injury that leaves one stuck on the same features wishing any moment meant drunk from commercialized whisky because of one word, like. If you've gotten past my first sentence, this is me in my essence, a poetic maniac with a phobia for repeated works, yikes!! So as I encounter words, which alone amount to sound, I'm intrigued at the motivations of those that venture into the path of rhyme, which in fact involves only dykes. No, not the ones that will eventually be splitting a child, I'm talking of preventative measures while regurgitating sound similar to the way sea does sand, but this is life. You see, if the effort to seal a heart sums up to mere associations that require, no, demand every other letter incorporated in script contain 'like' as an inscription of profound forts of acquired now, then all I have is syke! Colloquial surprises to complete a garden of verbiage that paints pictures of literal blunders portraying sentences absent of quality thread, only like. Urgh! I recycled like so here's an extra point aimed at driving home the idea that though poetic, it justifies no path given following automates secondary status akin weeds in a tree's farm where every word I plant is a fig, unlike pine."

Mitishamba ~ Nothing against you pine, you stalk.
"Green Figure"

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

the One drops

"Class rules dictate advances through supposed chances posing as proven courses of outlining what is socially norm. Lead by past brutes' diction which reads of a haste to prose while silently suffering from an addiction of profiling one source. It simply shows career students who went about things crassly considering it pride but rather abused a jungle in books while calling it their home. Vast grooves turn pages so my love knew to strand statements in any cleavage involving masked views that reveal drafts made of planters lacking a farm. Plunder a land of its soil and leave tethered nomads as employees circling a tree's shadow in search of fountains of joy, yet squander storms. Restricted movement encounters coal which alone provides challenges in avoiding friction while utilizing rungs made of mud, ignorant of how brittle ceramic toils affirm wooden carvings a sturdier form. A tree defined by more than what is on the surface and when the rule classifies everything that surfaces, it misses the whole of life's mark - air is dirt in a tree's tone."

"Ishmael, the green embryo"

Monday, July 1, 2013

Sura ya Kitabu ~ The Book's Face Covered

What's on your mind.......

June 5 via mobile
"Sins of a tethered nomad with no borders. Roaming a tree's shadow in circles going everywhere that tree bothers. A destination that never falters, obeying the commands of movement but as stationary as the ocean's waters. Embelished routers accruing direction covering distances a day offers. Without time, its authors, consumed with self-reflection as though germination confers. Subjects to discussion thus speech is in concert with a slave confined to pollination like bees buzzing around some flowers that envy the loafer in lotus. Old ways of producing new things that within a few days this nomad has wings and gives the tree its name, commiting a mortal sin - own grass." Mitishamba ~ Roam, man, path.etic order.

What's on your mind.....

April 18 via mobile
Had to give a spirited response on the path of hip hop/rap given Ricky Ross rape rhymes: Most rap these days has nothing to fight for so they choose women. Every mindless body is throwing jabs at our most precious resource, a woman, a black woman at that and still demand that she remains unblemished?! Sad........ "Deeply saddening how many commit such verbal offenses while expecting reason in return. No wonder you get the angry black woman. She's mad. Mad at how her lover sees her. By any deemed earth but the tone of every one of his sound comes with a broken and beat drum. Her strength still churns. This I love and see in her a seasoned veteran in being firm. Having such useless support has bound her to individual thought. Independent walks and if its matters of self preservation she became a father since even in his presence he is absent a lot."...I'm Mitishamba ~ and angry.

How presently I feel?!

Lutan Fyah
'Crystal Clear'

"....just set the rule and the people will follow, broad is the road to get pain and sorrow...."

Mitishamba ~ Hadi Kumi na Tatu
"Ngozi Majani"