I have always searched for perfection…

How does it look in the midst of naked bodies?

Do you always see my face when you are pleasing her?

At that moment when you climax, do you ever hope that I was there with you?


I have always hoped to see perfection…

Can I see it between broken hearts?

Do you tell her you love her?

Or that she is the one with your heart?

Do her eyes sparkle every time you say her name?


I have always prayed to feel perfection

Can I feel it within intertwined souls?

That moment my mind is at peace,

When only thoughts of you flow through my mind?


 As I search for perfection…

Between bodies, with strong sexual tension,

Between the crevices of thighs and with soft lips,

Between boulders on chests and smoothness from touch.

Tell me I will find perfection!


As I search for perfection…

In hearts, where love once existed,

In words that were once calming,

In stars that looked like your eyes.

In skies which looked like home.

Tell me I will see perfection!


As I search for perfection…

Away from reality,

In galaxies, planets

revolving round  an unnamed star,

I hoped you would be my perfection!!



Teach me MAGIC.


Teach me magic!

Teach me how to fly, how to swim in sand.

Teach me how to walk on thorns,

How not to bleed when I slit my wrists.


Teach me magic!

Teach me how to laugh with my eyes.

How to smile with my body

Teach me how to listen with my lips,

How to talk with my touch.


Teach me magic!

Teach me how to breathe with my heart,

How to feel with my lungs,

Teach me how to think with my ears,

How to see with my mind.


Teach me magic!

Teach me my how to piece everything together,

How my words can heal, heat up a cold night

Teach me my how to mend broken bodies,

How my tears will soothe aching wounds,

Teach me how to draw off the spell,

How to make the desires a reality.


Teach me magic!

Not only to see a future, not to only read cards,

Not to give good fortunes.

Teach me how to be alive

Even after I have died,

How to remember every touch, every face,

How to believe in passion.


Teach me magic!

Teach me how to be naked,

How to love these breasts,

How to embrace these scars,

Teach me that beauty is an illusion,

And that the folds on my tummy are perfection.


Teach me magic!

Teach me how to light flames,

How to caresses a soul with my mind,

How to evoke emotion with my eyes,

Teach me how kiss, with my words,

How to breathe with rhythm.

Teach me how to love again.

Broken Pieces

Broken pieces…

Look, as the folds on my face crease a bit more, I am tired of being the one with your heart, I am tired of carrying the heaviness that it has along with me, do me a favor, and give me your body, for a minute or so, I am not asking for much.

Heavy hearts,

I do not want to be the mother of your kids, or the woman you’ll come to every other night, See I am not strong to be your wife, I want to be her, the other woman, the one you run to, to have a few minutes of fun, So do me a favor, give me your body for a minute or so.

Broken pieces…

I do not want to be swept off my feet, I do not want to be the best thing that happened to you, I do not want to say that I found my prince charming or that you are heaven sent, I just want my wildest desires to be met, for you to give me your body for a minute or so.

Heavy hearts,

Look, as I compose myself to smile, so that you may see this perfect set of teeth, I have fears, that maybe after this breasts are suckled, by children who will call me mother, you will no longer love me as much, when this hips have given way to little ones that look like you, you no longer would want to touch me, so do me one favor, give me your body for a minute or so.

Broken pieces…

I do not want to love you, or you to love me back, that’s why I’ll never utter those words from my lips, because, the times I’ve loved, I’ve been crazy, I’ve lost, I’ve lost myself, I’ve been stupid, and forgotten even how to breath, I’ve hurt, I’ve been mistreated, I’ve hurt others as well, just in the name of love, I’ve made calls that haven’t been answered, they’ve texted and gotten no reply, so do me a favor and instead of your heart, give me your body for a minute or so.

Heavy hearts,

I do not want to be the one that warms the bed, when you are popping bottles and dancing, making memories, I want to be she the one whom you make memories with, one who knows happy moments, and the best of you, one who sees the dimples on your face, the sweat on your chest, one whose finger marks are on your back, so do me a favor and give me your body for a minute or so.



Heart beat; heart beats,

There are angels and demons inside my heart,

Pulling, pushing…

Heart beat; heart beats,

There are angels and demons inside my head,

Calling shouting,

Heart beat; heart beats,

There are angels and demons inside my heart,

Lost for words,

I’d want to make a call to you,

Tell you of the sleepless nights,

Tell you of how I love you,

Tell you of dreams,

Mine with you in them.

Heart beat; heart beats,

There are angels and demons inside my head,

Lost of deeds,

I’d want to kiss you a bit more,

Hug you a little tighter,

Let you in my space,

Forge a perfect future.


You are beautiful…

What is beauty?

Is it defined by the wrinkles on my forehead, or the lines around my cheeks? Is it defined by the color of my skin and the smoothness it has to offer? Is it defined by the thickness of thighs or the roundness of the bum?

You are beautiful…

What is beauty?

Is it defined by the length and texture of hair? Or by the length of pointed nails, they that come in an array of colors close to those of the rainbow? Is it defined by the size of lips, tiny and small as though words from them are whispers of humility or those large and full as if words from them are loud and full of pride.

You are beautiful…

What is beauty?

Is it defined by the clothes I wear, those that hug me, or those that fit so loosely and allow my skin to breathe? Is it defined from the material of clothe, the silk and smooth that prides in wealth, or the harsh and faded one that resembles poverty?

You are beautiful…

Little lies

You sit at the edge of something, a couch, bed, the bar stool or at the edge of the matatu seat. You want to print your life, on the counter table, or on the screen of the window that’s next to you. You no longer enjoy the flash light from the phone’s screen or that of that television screen. You are bitter, life is bitter, even lemons are sweeter when taken after a tequila shot. That is life and it’s little lies.

It’s half past six o’clock, a chilly morning, something not known in the month of February. You are in a rush, get to town before the fare hicks, get to the office a bit early, drink lots of coffee, you are hot, hot from rage, rage only you know of. Life and it’s little lies.

Seated at the edge of something, you feel you are at the edge of your life, you want to jump, tell this bus( the one in your head) to Stop, for you to get out. You are no longer comfortable in your own skin. Life and its little lies.

Its Friday, a few minutes to seven, the sun is setting, the weekend seems longer than usual, you hate weekends, you are always idle, no better half to keep you busy, so you buy something to entertain you, a drink, sour when you take its first sip, but sweet as you finish drowning it. The sun( the one in your head) never seems like it will rise. Life and it’s little lies.

You want to paint your life, or write about it, words lack, you don’t know which colors to use, everything seems grey, or red, maybe black, that will be a sad picture to paint. You take a piece of paper, an old pen that you’ve never used, you will create words, write, write something beautiful, something someone will read, something someone will enjoy. NOTHING an hour later, you’ve only scribled, life, life, life.

Maybe you should paint life, it looks yellow, with streaks of white, shadows of blue and bits of green. It looks like happiness, with touches of pink, brown, purple, something like a rainbow after a heavy down pour.

Now you want to write more about it, use words like, happy ever after.

You wake up, its a few minutes past three, it was a dream. 

Life and it’s little lies.

Cheap thrills

Somewhere on the foot of mount kenya,a day like this in the early nineties, a woman was in labour,that woman was my mother.

Before birthing me, she had endured the same pains for her four other children. She was happily married and was fulfilling God’s will. Filling the earth.

Before my birth, she had been in the marriage institution for about thirteen years and she stayed in it till death did them part.

Now I will delve into something deeper, I may not be married but I hope to be one day, so today here are my sentiments on it

Cheap thrills.

We all fancy the cheap thrills that come with sex. A quickie at the car park, at the night club at some lonely isle in town, at some cheap motel. A quick one at some party, in a friends house, or your favourite joint, a moment of untamed emotions in  public transport, or a public park. You name it. Youve tried it in the name of spicing up that relationship right?

To the unmarried ones who love these cheap sex thrills, how has the spicing been? Are you still together with your one? The one you had to spice things with? Maybe for his 25th birthday or your first anniversary as girlfriend and boyfriend?

I am guessing the spicing ended so well, that you got bored of each other and the routines to the extent of not wanting to say those vows of I do, before family, friends and a man in clothe. Be it a pastor, lawyer, judge or the old men that head those traditional rituals.


It is a powerful tool. Kings, presidents, that beggar you saw today, the genius and that fool you know of, the mentally insane, the spiritualists they all came to being after a sexual act. So see how powerful and diverse it is.

One thing though we all use it or enjoy its pleasures at the wrong time. It wasn’t created for you all unmarried, happily dating folks.

I am no virgin so I am not writing this as some sexually starved human who is not aware of the pleasures it offers. Nor am I writing this as a sexually abused human, or one who has been hurt in the past by giving in too soon, NO, I am writing this as an experimental human, one who has enjoyed few minutes of pleasure at some back seat of a car, one who has had desires fulfilled in unknown places, and who has also lacked enjoying happiness with an individual, because to some extent happiness was derived from how long he would stay hard, or how strong his thrusts were or how good he could eat me up.


You probably will go out with a guy ( women and their ninety day rule) especially someone who you see as a potential spouse, and not give in because you want to see if he will hang around, past the three months and if he passes that test he becomes “bae”. And after he is bae, you become his whore, buy all forms of lingerie, let Kamasutra be your new bible, and another three, say six or year down the line, you go through his phone and then see the texts he sends you, those with all the cute names et all, he send such to bunch of other women, then you wonder where did you ever go wrong.

Or you may be this other bunch of women, you see a guy, you name him potential, then on one of those days you are hanging out getting to know each other, your emotions misbehave you give in, in less than two weeks of knowing each other. The guy is such a darling because he doesn’t run after you gave in too soon, he now becomes sweeter and better and continues to spoil pamper and calling you all sort of cute names. You are his freak turned “wifey”. Three months, six months an year,then he sees you boring cause nowadays you are not a freak anymore, you hardly pounce on him, and when you try to spice things up he says your libido is usually on the extreme.. So he looks for another woman, a bit reserved, and conservative, and you wonder where you went wrong.


Now this is the bunch of people I want to be in. You have known a guy for as long ad you can imagine, you have been best of buddies, having late non sexual conversations, hang out a bit too often, help him critic all his ex girlfriends, meet up his new girlfriend then give reviews on how pretty she is, how big her bum is, how small her lips are, how she behaves when drunk et all. You know a couple of his family members so does he know yours, you are platonic friends. Once in a while he throws a line on how you’d make a great girlfriend when you are nursing a heart break. You tell him you like his beard a bit too often, you throw in the line of, you know me a tad too much we can never date.


“Never marry a man you love”

At the end of it, do not let sex be the “it” factor to define any long term relationship. It never goes anywhere. Grow friendship first, then love, and let sex be the cremè of it all.

Use it to celebrate, to create life, to acknowledge each other, not just something to quench those desires of lust.
“Another year growing wise on sexuality”
Let’s honor and respect sex, marriage and the children that are a result of it.

Self love

To my readers,

Today I am writing you a letter. It is a new month, a month most call the month of love. Pictures of two happy people will be flaunted on the gram, and some will wonder what life, love has to offer.

So today, I share my discovery, discovery of self love. I have not yet found my one, but I am happy loving myself first, because for so long, I have not loved my self, but I have searched for a love that I couldn’t give to self.

He was born on the 7th day of january, i was born on the tenth day of the second month, the day of love is on the 14th day of february, and he died on the 19th day of the second month.

How two months so close, can bring so much joy, happines, sadness and tears i still cannot understand.

He was the first man i loved, a man i loved so much, and i knew he loved me equally as much, his gentle hugs and harsh words, could tell all, that his love, his love was the best, one so genuine and true.

And the past six years, i have been searching for a love that only him could give, i hoped that the ones i met would offer just half of his.
So in my search, i met some, who looked at me, and never saw this pretty face and smile, they saw hips and beneath the hips, they saw thighs, thighs they longed to touch, to part, yet he, the man I first loved never looked at me that way.

In my search for a love half as his, i let them touch, i let them part these thighs, and i, with all my yearning and desire to feel loved,let them in, i was moist to them, and hurriedly they pushed in, a few strokes before they said, they loved me not.

He would have turned sixty-one this year, and i will be celebrating, his seventh year with the angels, as I celebrate my first year of fully loving myself.

Self love…

I have turned away my back, from seconds of happiness derived from pleasures of the body, and that’s when I realised, that to be loved, does not mean to quench the desires of skin.

I have grown to know, that I only receive as much as I give, so moments I let lust come along the way, those are the moments I deprived my self much.

I have opened my eyes, to the fact that the tongue will deceive, and the choice to believe those soothing words lies within you.

So as February comes along, the month of love, let’s not search for a love that few can give, through a majority, let us give it to self first, and in equal measure we will receive it.



The Patriot Kenya

#BringCarolHome went the hashtag across social media, mostly Twitter where it has been surfacing time and again. A quick glance doesn’t give much but a look into the story beckons tears to one’s eyes. The sad story of a beautiful, lively, energetic, and ambitious young girl by the name Carol.

Carol a recent graduate yet to delve into the real world, is resting at home with family, she has been feeling sickly but was determined to have nothing put her down on that day. They talk, share all the while; she had been sick months before and the doctor’s visit put her under a steroid medication. It was hard but on this day it seemed to have caught up with her: she seized! Convulsed! The family was notified and there the hospital stint started.

Agha Khan Hospital, Nairobi Hospital, Matter Hospital and Ladnan Hospital all were hnable to diagnose the…

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