Tuesday, December 16, 2014

this christmas, plant a tree

"a logger slides south a pole and immediately commences to reward those that have cut down a soul. they must also have kilns. with chimneys that exhaust moments spent inside a closed wall. a place that hosts dreams. sleeping quarters. this is a house full of sounds that beam. the crackling voice of heat. wood suffering, gathering, smoldering all that it sees. kilns laid with bricks mate to reproduce coal. santa claws. grappling at every seed, mining, struggling with the identity of its source. solomon's flaws. wanting to reap every corner of a house built, missing a floor. the bottomless pit that engulfs all. a plant. ignorance forces this nomad to attempt and make more land by separating a tree from its earth. akin laws from art. fairy tales used to control a farmer's mental girth. but She keeps his scrolls. verbiage of every fertile hole. this is the man that can shepherd his animals without leaving home. all the while the logger, the nomad, is busy with his ho ho howl.'

mitishamba ~ the true shepherd has plants
'green, i am.'

Monday, December 1, 2014


'line after line i've churned wine. waters turning, tiding, tithing the feet of the one that comes with a spine. Her. while chiding the one that slithers to dine. him.'

mitishamba ~ nothing personal, just Her.

Thursday, September 11, 2014


"futility at times. my attempts to predicate care with rhyme. i'm simply a painter with the hidden colors of an ancient crime. the ticking thumbs of a heartbeat forced to clock wise elocution in the absence of hide. we are all born of skin yet i bear metaphors full of expressions only compelled to exert spite. these, however, are presentations of the love of my life. a Woman whose listening skills are envied by those who are keen to hear what the heart finds rife. love. love absent strife. love in the presence of hate's desire to blur sides. love overflowing in my sentences which i fill with the articulation of Her stride. footsteps along a vine. the veins to my heart transporting Her wealth from a tree to my spine. arteries drumming the art within me when i write. earth's scribe. She remains the guide. sturdy while reaching into my being of turbulent forces streamlined with pride. Her course lays inside. navigating every channel ferrying the instruments of scales to measure how even i  reside. my paths abide. translations of the direction fish take to come to one conclusion on using a tree's bark as reprise. rings in a trunk bearing galaxies of drought that dictate the distance water-bound animals cover while on a blind hike. the eyes of a dark universe in need of sight. tentacles; pine. Her baobab as dykes. balanced in water retention with a brood of branches sweeping the atmosphere after everyone dines. carbon. die. entire digestive systems revealed while they exhaust all of their finds. lazarus' the last to bite. first to taste the emotive nature in all that sigh. every breath beginning with dirt's compilation into a lye. acidic fruit meets my base of desire colloquially called pieces of dime. bitter truths telling how hate is easily quelled through going past seven dwarfs to find Her living dye."

mitishamba ~ these are steady codes of my construct.
"green kindred"

Sunday, June 29, 2014

born of skin

"ravens roam the earth. doves perch. death all around a birth. droves search. questions unanswered drives diction as lanterns in dark tide. water delights. a flood of letters paints a hide. canvas, time. portrait portraying the root of a tribe. vertebrae, vine. the stump that manages to a bark, intertwine. a community of plants built through some form of glide. slither into the existence of another and gather itself into a sigh. breath of false air freshened by wails to an imaginary rye. a plant splitting a complete farm constructed with a bounty of thighs. the strong stomp the yard since the presence of these weeds calls for making wine. only strength survives. the art of channeling what lies on the surface and fermenting truth inside. a war fought to extinguish the battle of what if means to Know size. tension among prides show predictions of hunters having sides. a potter's demise. its tree was just a mold; baking. branches broken. why not find out how grass keeps stride. where to, trees of a dye?! a silent k tries to knit true vowels with i. the unknown, Ishmael. el a. dirt's carpet beginning from the end of another's scribe. meaning eid rather pain be my revelation than become a rotten apple in minds. an idea that can't be buried lacks fertility to attract Her bites. let alone vibe. born of a skin that absorbs punches but reflects crime. a figure cut from the naked eye. present to a discerning sight. clothed in a garb mummies despise. decay being seen as sin in those that desire continuous speech speaks to a fear from within that's needs i, the mockingbird, to chime. born of sin, born of a skin carrying a farm of feathers coated with zeal. the likeness of leaves, my trees grow suckling the sun as a raven might."

mitishamba ~ branches were taken, not roots.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

being mitishamba

"where language is law. the identity of thought that allows one to navigate the dark corners of a straight course. the door. mitishamba ni ulimi mzito unaochonga roho kama kinoo. bore ase omogano bwobogima, botabwati chintoro."

mitishamba ~ green dreams speak reality.
'majani mdomoni'