Issues at hand.

Too sweet 

to detect sarcasm
too nonchalant 

to give pessimism audience
I climb, I fall
continue to waltz to
life's soul-less tune.

Paycheck to pay-debt
thriving on takeovers and bids
still stand to hypocritically judge me?
Find some thousand worthy cares....
a kid begging on Nkrumah road...
your neighbor showering his spouse with life threatening blows....
walk to work....
go bang your pans....
there are million ways of blowing steam
than a duel with a swirling mind.

I strum
write,

feed Toughie

 we all slept yesterday

but some just didn't wake up today.

For The Child Who Was Never Made.

You are welcome.

         Birthdays

Would have been

          Blood baths

As you watched

              A grown man

and

          His grown woman

searching –with determination

for a handle to fly off.

You would have had

       The best education

in

‘Never compromising who you are’

as you watched mama

Master that Art.

Daddy-well daddy

Would be daddy

Boys are always boys.

Your esteem would

Have been punctured

By your first cry

For the attention

You would slice

Your wrists trying to get

Do I regret

Not allowing you

To be made?

No.

You are welcome.

Katusiime Jeresi.

Moving Out.

We spend a lot of time quizzing our minds over what and how, where and when we are going to get out of our parents homes. (Millineals do you copy?) This is a 21 century conflict in the mind of many a young adult. We want to be responsible citizens, but dont want to waddle out of our caretakers houses and fall on our faces. Worse still is the whimpering back tail between legs option.

How do we go about the delicate business of stepping out into the cold frozen world? How do we adjust to receiving hate from strangers? How do you manage living from paycheck till your income stabilizes? How will you shop for household items and still have enough money left over for your bank account?

1. Research

This is paramount. Research about rent, and security in the place you are planning to settle in. How far from the important services like main roads, hospitals, banks etc will you be? Get to know what you will need when it comes to furniture and décor, let for now Pinterest become your best friend. Ask the people in that area about the amount of noise, chemical and dust pollution you might have to endure.

2. No Body is your mama

Jennifer Lopez gave you solid advice with her aint your mama hit. Pick a leaf from the song or borrow the whole goddamn tree. Step out with zero expectations. Fairy tales of kind strangers, helpful children and warm old people are just fairy tales. Expect a cold, hungry uncaring world but prepare to give the warmth you want to receive. Be kind the way you want strangers to be kind to you. Be hospitable and help who ever needs it because you know better and you want better. Give whatever you want to receive.

3. Live and let live

When you were lounging on your papa’s couch sometimes your hardest chore was to watch what everyone was up to. You sat down, got updates through hour long gossip sessions and basically forced your nose in business that was never yours to begin with. Out here it’s a bit not like that. You MUST stick to your lane. Trying to know why your neighbor is taciturn might end your life. Even helping a stranger may backfire horribly. Out here you are your mother and your father protect yourself the way they would. Stay out of businesses where you earn no profit.

4. Work Hard

A very close friend of mine shares with me the words his grandmother left him now and then. One of the old wise womans' sayings was, “When you leave home,work hard enough to just visit now and again,never to come back and stay”. Whatever work,art or industry you pick interest in doesn’t matter. What matters is get that job and keep it. Keep it,grow at it and fly in your career. The core reason of leaving your parents house

There are other things you ought to consider before you step out. You can share them with me in the comment section of this blog or send me mail at siimejeresi@gmail.com

Command

through this great divide paddle
slowly
surely
swim through asinine reviews
hold your breath
through walls of conjecture
break
be heard
Command

Up.

Harsh lights glare

Like an angry multitude

the distance helps

diffuse their anger

against

the shy stars.

Cold blasts dig deep

into my supple skin

and you hold my hand

serving me the cuisine of your

warmth

Up Up Up

on the balcony

where the city noise

fades

with each word you speak

your chest reverberating

through the small of my back

as you serve me

the cuisine of your warmth

Up Up Up

as the world passes below

a drunk conductor getting the fares all wrong

an old PA system blasting out tasteless songs

officers matching in a single file

though no one is crying war or foul

for now your arms are a welcome prison

Up Up Up.

as I meet your incarcerating gaze

harsh lights glaring.

Jungle Sounds by Susan Kiguli

In seasons when
The grass trembles with thirst
And trees crackle
Under the ruthless furnace;
Farmers rejoice at a lone feathery cloud
A false promise of rain:
Thus we stand in arid deserts
Clinging desperately to fallacies
Refusing to believe...
Justice is not here with us.

Justice,
At the festivities of your adversaries
Your absence cuts through our unaneasthetised flesh
Keen as a surgeon's knife.
Searing pain numbs our hearts
Leaving them limp lumps.
Your absence is a warrior's sword
A silver dagger in a foe's hand
Cutting down the sons and daughters of the land.

In your continued dearth
We are cowardly hyenas,
Running away from jungle sounds
Soiling our legs
Seized by desperate madness.
You, mirage of our lives
We pant after your shadow
Like thirsty desert Tuaregs
Our shrunken tongues
Cannot even croak your name.

Let the seasons go on holiday
Let there be a sun-moon battle
Forcing curfew on night and day
We rather the earth stood on tip-toe
Than smell the aroma of justice
Wafting to us always from afar

If The End Was The Beginning

In tandem with fading innocence

The years swing by

A tooth falls out  here,a tooth is lost there

Living becomes a simmering Death

My back welcoming it

An inch lower every year

Till sticks which used to burn in the hearth

Of my glory days

Turn into crutches faithfully supporting

My frame

I feign forgetfulness

But my mind is fooled not

Would my ebon shimmer

My hips sway with every step?

Would these young men

Who rush to give me way

Pray to have their way?

If the end was the beginning

how young would I be?