BEDTIME CONVERSATIONS

Skillz Tha Poet: sadness be a road,
then long i have walked,
sorrow to quench my thirst,
pain the cold to shield,
am i a fugitive of laughter?
is that pity in you i see,
a consolation in silence uttered?

Ngartia J Bryan: it's not pity fam,
but rather, concern.
for too long, you've been walking
trudging along roads of sadness.
never will pain shield your cold hide,
try laughter
and experience the miracle

Skillz Tha Poet: how can i try what i
have never known?
would you tell a cow to fly?
or a cock to try to bark?
and what miracle be,
when my teeth to the world a display make?
if joy be a pill then give me one,
if it be bitter shall i swallow?
i know concern,
a daughter of dead hope,
and crippled power,
tell me another,
and her father shall i you show,

Ngartia J Bryan: you admit your
disease
conscious not of it
you dare not risk
which results unluckyly,
to your omnipotent black cloud.
see, cows may not fly
a cock may bark not.
in real life
but they dream of it
as they sleep.
dare to dream bro
and see the grimacing nightmares
disappear

Skillz Tha Poet: then i shall dream,
if these tins won't let that water in,
for if a cow can,
and a cock in its tiny mind,
am i not smarter?
then let me drift away brother,
let me see happiness in imagination,
and if it be the drug for me,
then it shall,
and to dream forever i will,

Ngartia J Bryan: sense you see at last
now shed off that sad cloak
drift off to sleep
dream of happiness
and hang on to the feeling.
I hope he changed for good
for through this we've been
times countless before_
but it somehow happens
that the cow always gets smarter than him
and the cock, more brains.
then we get back to the drawing board
back to the sad dejected demeanor.

RELIEVING ...

Have people ever been prejudiced and ran away from you?
have you ever started talking and people sink away from you?
have your friends ever considered you the very prescription of shame?
Has failure to you ever sounded like a compliment?
Your teachers calling you stupid and you know you aren't,
friends thinking you crazy, that you do weed
and girls thinking you are impotent coz you don't spread your seed
and nobody comes to your rescue at your moment of need
fight demons alone with no one to lend you a shield.
half of your life spent in hot soup, tryna wade
selling hot soup in the evening, money has to be made,
During the day you lost in the sun, no shelter for shade
And the other half you've worked your ass off, tryna get paid.
always testing waters that are either too deep or too cold
sometimes wondering for what purpose you were made

I grab the bull by its horns and end up being gored
try to grab life by it's balls but it's wearing a steel pant
I ain't giving up though, Nope I don't do that shit
success is my only freaking option, so goodbye failure, beat it
I was aiming at the moon, but I already hit it
I this dream I had last night, smashed every single bit
the smithrens fell on the ground, creating a beat
I'll write some lyrics for it, its gonna be a hit
better grab your radio, and tune it, full blast
I'll soon be shining, go on and wait
am fishing for success, an my pen is my bait.

ACROSS THE STREET

I stand under a street light,
a vandalized one, a dark night.
The garbage stench poisons my nose,
I wave away thirsty mosquitoes.
across the street, the other side,
a man walks, stride after stride.
a woman whispers "hey babe ...honey! "
The man stops, negotiates and walks away,
with her. For a night of raunchy endeavors
And a few coins, for her needs and cares.
I painfully count, "the fifth one
And the week is not yet gone"
My heart hurts, I take a deep breath,
then I curse Cupid, and wish him a quick death.

THE PRIEST

am sitting in a bus, going to my sister's
a drunk beside me, stench of cheap liquors.
A half empty bottle of brandy in his pocket
stains of cheap lipstick on his shirt,
bright red, maybe from a common slut
I would've opened the window for air,
but flies might fly in, I fear.
He is reading one of the local dailies
the fact that he can read is itself, a surprise
and when I least expect a word from the fiend,
He says, "pray, tell me my dear friend,
what causes this disease, athritis?"
After a shocked moment, I bark my thesis
"Cheap drinks, vile women, disrespect for God and oneself "
He shakes his head and mutters an "oh my" to himself
after second thought and a minute of self reprimanding,
"Am sorry, are you a patient?"I ask, apologising
"Oh No! Am healthy _very very healthy" he answers,
"I've just read it's a disease from which the Pope suffers!"

SHE CALLED ME BABY ...

I once had a sugar mama
she'd call me baby, I'd call her mama
She'd be my baby'a mama
I wanted to be her baby's poppa
we would obey the command of God the father
and fill the earth from one end to the other

She taught me many a thing,
like moans and groans are not always of pain
that my bolingo was not only for urine
and her mouth, goodness! Was not only for eating
she showed me the pleasures beneath her stockings
and made me do many uncouth things

Oh, we had such a great love,
more than what wambui and mbugua would have
I never thought of the opposition we would face,
I thought only of the pleasures I would embrace.
What more? I called her mama, she called me baby
how true that was to be

The day came, to introduce her to my dad
a single father, the best I've ever had
But she stared like a scared cat,
and he glared like a dog ran mad.
He shouted, "not you! Not with our son! "
I asked "what's happening? Dad, what do you mean?"
she replied"I didn't know, it was our son"

My eyes welled up, in tears
She called me baby, I called her momma
She asked me to forgive her
I knew I would never

I don't know how I got the axe
All I remember is her body and head lying apart
It was such an anticlimax.
We buried her by the river,
that night,in the darkness.
But she'll haunt me forever.
for she called me baby, I called her mama,
oh how true that came to be.

HUYU NGARTIA

HUYU NGARTIA

Nimekaa chini nikakumbuka boy
anaitwa Ngartia
mistari haitoshi kudescribe hii kijana
naweza anza na vile ye hupenda
accent ya kiborana
anabonga hiyo na me namwaga yangu
ya kiindia
saa zingine si hata hubonga kirussia
na hii ufala yote tulianzanga zamani
sana
zile mazamani za wakati ya drama .
tumetoka mbali ndo maana hapa
unatuona
haushangai hata vile tunashare
majina?
hata kwa twitter ndie alikuwa my first
follower
na hata sijaanza kuongea stori za
blogger.
nampatia time na nione kule atafika
si ati namdoubt, ni ati naogopea
future,
nashindwa ka iko ready kumeet iyo
sura.
kijana ataanza na majokes hautafunga
kinyua
hadi afungue book na uangalie hizo
paper.
ndo utarealise ulikuwa unacheka na
genius
genius mwenye huenda interview na
akalla
hata steve jobs hivo tu ndivo alianza.
ka haujakutana na huyu asylum
member
kuja kwangu naweza kuwahi number
ka una pen anza kuandika , 071 ...
naona hauandiki.but ukimtaka
hautamkosa place watu wanacheka.
shout NGARTIA!!!
©VICTOR BRIAN