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Beware The Falling Man!

Where is this?

Where am I?

What is that?

Falling Man

Something is whimpering in the darkness, shrill like the wheels on a rusty shopping cart,

I glint at sad eyes far off in a corner,

The place is eerie cold,

The whimpers intensify, slight howls break the monotony.

As i walk to the eyes the farther off the voice trails,

What is this?

Where am i?

There is no ground, my feet stomp on darkness,

My hands grasp at darkness,

How can i see?

Dazed and confused the ground opens up beneath my feet,i reach out…


I scream out!….I scream for help, but the only audible voice i can make is the shrill whimper; cold and sad.

The fall seems like forever, tumbling around the vacuum, embracing myself for the imminent fall, the forthcoming ground seemingly fore-staying its welcome for me with its cold cemented hands.

My eyes shut,bracing for impact

My heart pumping through my veins, i can hear my own heartbeat at my throat in this dark void,the only other solace beside my whimpers. I am scared, scared to open my eyes, fling out my arms, enjoy this ride till it lasts no more. The only lucid thought going through my mind is that huge ‘SPLAT!’ that waits for me.

I ride on the high adrenalin that is pumping through my system and squint open my eyes,the light is dazzling at first, so bright yet no light source no sun, no big bulb.

I stare into the image of me on the rows of buildings i fall past. This renewed surge of confidence allows me to glance around, nothing around me but a field of buildings. This particular one that mirrors my fall seems to be quite the crop, so Tall. I glance down, expecting any moment to kiss the ground but no i am saved the pleasure with nothing but darkness beneath me.

I dont understand. What is the meaning of this?

I glance up back again maybe my mirrored image will offer me companionship.

Wait! That’s not me.

Face weighted with age, dressed for a funeral, eyes riddled with sadness….There is something familiar about those eyes…

My His hands are shaking…those long slender fingers..something so familiar about them..

I try to scream out, but all that’s audible is My His whimper; that cold shrill song laden with death.

WHO am i?

I wake up!

Beads of sweat rolling down my face, the matatu conductor is vigorously shaking me.

“Boss umefika stage!”

Dazed and confused i try to gather my senses…

Where am I? In a bus (not that answer does much to assure me of The Where) all i know is, i need to get out first then figure it out as i go along. I have to wait a bit though, there is some old guy still hesitant about getting off the matatu, so I use this time to try to figure out what that dream was all about.

I alight off at the stage,sun shining, the dream slowly shimmering back to the recess of my subconscious. Oh yeah! I was heading in to work..tsk “Saturdays” such a task.

I make my way to the bridge, safe haven for all those seeking to cross this busy highway.. such a task though.. going up those stairs, but i am in no hurry still early by 45 minutes i can jog the weird dream away.

Half way up, loud screeches below, smell of burnt rubber on tarmac, some lady screams…i shake my head, make sure this isn’t one  of those inception moments..NO! very real.

I glance down,a trailer has ground to a halt, behind it a small stream of oil darker than usual; but for all its worth no serious car crash, hence i am confused about all the screaming and commotion, being the curious Kenyan, i venture forth to the accident scene; i know morbid but hey this makes up for morning conversation, so got to have my facts straight.

Everyone seems to be peering under the truck, that’s when i see him, that oil was no oil, blood streaking from something under the truck. That funeral suit, those long slender fingers protruding under the hood, those motionless sad eyes staring into forever. I know that man!


It’s the old man who was seated next to me in the matatu.

It’s the old man I was looking at in the mirror. It’s HIM!






Road less travelled

How often we must bear the challenges of life;
The endless roller coaster between happiness and sorrow;
The constant ups and downs of daily strife.
And always the question remains …. why?

Life is not an easy road for most;
It twists and turns with many forks in the road,
Although always, and inevitably, we are given a choice …

Do we turn to the right … or the left?
Do we take the high road … or the low road?
Do we take the easy path … or the difficult one?

Decisions are not easy for those struggling for direction …
And sometimes the many choices and signs become overwhelming.

While standing at a crossroads in life,
The urge is to take the most comfortable path;
The road with least resistance …
The shortest or most traveled route.

And yet, if we’ve been down that comfortable road before;
Have gleaned its lessons in life, and learned from our experiences;

Do we yet again follow the known?
Or does our destiny lie in another direction?

The fear of the road less traveled is tangible and all too real;
It manifests itself in many ways,
And tends to cloud the issues that might otherwise be clear.

It is in these times of confusion,
That we must seek peace and solitude;

Time to contemplate on our life,
Our experiences and our choices past;
Time to look back, and reflect on what we have learned
Without fear or confusion.

For only each of us knows our own personal thoughts;
Our unique past and personal history;
The experiences that brought us to the crossroads we now face.

We can always learn a small degree from others experiences,
And yet … no one person can walk in our shoes,
Others know not, the trials and tribulations faced in private …

For each is individual … unique … and personal.

And that is why … while standing at a crossroads,
Only “we” can formulate the decision for ourselves;
The true direction that lies within;
The choices we must deliberate on with clarity and wisdom.

For it is only through personal reflection,
That we can now choose our destiny;
… Our next adventure;
… And the future we will embrace.

Dear,Poetry Book Thief

I pay a tribute of head 2 the numbskull tht stole my previous poetry book..

I dont need 2 be in fashion 2 know tht Googgi is a fake version of Gucci,
Just like u are a fake version of any poet worth their writing,
You hypocritical diction jacker,
so sprung up on ur own lies u would make a better Jack in the box,
Even if u went 2 a high priced private school,
trust me u still n never will have class,
when u talk i cant hear a word u say coz u r like a sprinler,
dude say it,dont spray it,
bragging about having skill and ur rhymes being sick,
who told u making people ill by givin em ear infections was cool,
there might b hope 4 u yet since am here right nw,
i’ll school u on life’s lessons on tru skill,
Spitting rhymes 2 ur chick who is as old as a 2D movie n trust me i eint refering 2 her bust size,
dude i pity ur childhood coz u never played with a hand puppet,coz u were busy using ur sock 4 other purposes n am nt talkin bwt wearing em on ur feet
when people say u r retarded,trust me it eint a compliment,
You a 1minute man,no wonder ur chick left sayin she dont like fastfoods,
You the inspiration behind Wiz Khalifa’s song,
‘Black n Yellow’=’Your face n Your teeth’
So quit while u r behind,coz while am on tht fast track 2 riches u still stuck in traffic,
My chick is fly,whereas urs is still stuck in the terminal,
i dont need 2 have class coz i am on the faculty,
so dont compare urself 2 me coz 2 get 2 my level u can go ahead n queue up 4 tht public elevator,
go get ur act up coz jst coz u play E.A Sports doesnt mean u got Game
i’ll put an end to this mental assault,put a tombstone on it like the undertaker,n with two fingers in the sky:Deuces….
Lawi out….

My love letter

I wont jump infront of a grenade 4 u,
but i’ll turn u frm a ‘his’ to a ‘mine'(thts also a bomb)
this feeling is harder 2 kill than Bruce Willis in tht movie ‘Die Hard’
i promise if u get with me i wont pull tht Britney Spears abbreviation, no B.S
we r mathematically fit like mx+c=y we shuld b 2getha
i knw smetimes i may dissapoint u like Santa on Christmas
but i will keep trying like Thomas Edison,
4get the haters all we gats 2 do is think like Obama n belive “Yes We Can”
I know @ times i can be confusing like tht Rubix cube,
bt i’ll try n make it as simple n healthy as ‘a,b n vitamin C’
i’ll lesten the H.U.R.T n only give u tht L.O.V.E 🙂
i love you


The mind is a funny misundertood place,
Pulling tricks on us u can call it magic,
Insanity and Delirium its first phase of degradation,
making one rrun mad like they were in a race

Those voices u hear yelling in ur ear,
trust me brother they arent there,
saying ‘they come in peace like 2wo fingers in the sky’
these patients r crazy,yapping,screaming and thumping on their chests,
i mean king kong eint gat nothing on these loons.

These doctors b flockin around my bed like em playboy bunnies around hugh hef,
these faces crawling in my skin like i was in a lnkin park video,
i think am goin nuts,no am not macademian,
on tht insane swagg playing russian roulette with 5 bullets like am made of luck,

in here we dont have no gucci,instead we be rockin em straight jackets like they were in season,
locked up in a small white cushioned room,
with no 2go chatrooms,the only company u got is ur alter ego…,

the crazies @ Shutter Island eint gat nothing on us,the doctors call me ‘El Loco’
u can say am literally vocal,
when am of my meds 🙂
i may not be sick in the head,
bt un4tunBly my thoughts are,
they r vile n demented,
cold n dagerous like dementors,

sanity is not in my vocabulary o dictionary,
on the other hand insanity is in my thesaurus of stephen king novels,
look me up on google n u will find the Joker holding up a picture of me as his role model… 😀


The world rejoices as Bin Laden is dead
Americans celebrated as they saw his head
Justice has found after 10 years indeed
Poeple feel free and been relieved.

Rejoice the soul who have been a victim
Innocent people who have been killed by him
Now rejoicing with God in heaven
At last, military killed bin laden.

Rejoice now from dead terrorist leader
But the question is who will be al-qeada next leader
Fear will come sooner or later
Terrorist war doesnt end here.