Tomorrow is next year, tomorrow is another opportunity to see life

Be sober enough to see through glasses of the sun and see how the rays points many unmasked opportunities within us

Bro what lies behind us and before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us, see through the sunglasses of commitment and your life will always be at the beach of success

You see good bro, reading books gifts you with the opportunity to learn but positive drive towards life will always push for your name to be on some book for others to read and you to earn

Remember today’s kesha, how we prayed alot but bro, our allotries are just before our striving hands

It’s difficult but difficult is not synonymous to impossibility, it’s just that it had to be difficult so that sacrifice and consistency can appear in one of the pages of human life and not just a dictionary,

For few people know how to read and write but everyone must know how to learn

It’s not difficult when you’re yet to try, don’t complain of the heights of mountains you never tried climbing, just make a start and the ending will be worthwhile

You see bro, life is funny, everything may look similar for men but different all together, when you’re giving up, someone else is making another try,

When you feel like giving up, breakthrough from your troubles is always very near just hold on for a moment and your ending will be the start of your momentum

Bro, time is the only fundamental resource everyone has to partake any endeavor, so choose between 24 troubles and 24 opportunities,

Time can’t keep you or take you anyware, keep time and meet your own set deadlines before you meet others’

Bro, not everyone is a player, not everyone can sport a game but everyone has to game his goals and be involved in his/ her own success story and development

Bro, am not a prophet, but I admit you are a champion ? nothing is beyond your reach

Tomorrow,

Tomorrow good sister go buy a magazine and read of the many female chartered companies,

Buy a newspaper and see how hardwork is the perfect match of beauty, see, read of the many female occupied offices

Look at your feet and be swift of chasing your own dreams, look at your hands and directly be involved in your success story, get in touch with success

Tomorrow, siz go visit those who ate from the cherries of youthfulness and are fat of tummy and foot, ask them “how’s life?” and pinch your ears and cease that opportunity of making something out of life

Nothing siz is permanent in that office even the stepple pins move from one bunch of papers to another,

Believe me you can be the next manager for you are worth you plus a packet of chips ?

Tomorrow siz is next year, light the fireworks of hope, commitment and sacrifice make for tomorrow’s success

Tomorrow….

Thank you

By James Musau

#poetictuesdays

My stress, my happiness

My wisdom, my itch

Only for you I shall want

If you are high above, I’ll climb my ego to have you and cringe at your absence

I’ll pick you as a wife of my youth but will also wish to see you with others, because am good, am glad to see the elasticity of other people’s faces in the to of a smile

I’ll stress not so much at your syllable, but how high you lift me even when not in a lift

I’ll always work to see you satisfied for the good that comes with that will always bounce back to me

Only you shall wife my troubles, children my circumstances and parent my gloom till am home with time

My stress, my responsibility, my stretch marks

My drive, my game

Am not used to sunglasses but with you I see far beyond the sun

Thou art my surest  step even in the deepest darkness, with you the size of my step is not proportionate to my shoe size or feet size but your stance in my heart

See you’re good, you made me learn all that

Infact you be my surbodinate heart with your ventricles of commitment and consistency  pump the blood of hardwork to the whole body of success,

You level down my odds and make me tougher than my opponents, bet you’re my sport and together we shall spotify every huddle and still be in game

With you even with closed eyelids, still I believe am going somewhere far beyond the horizon, the sole of my feet are sure to wear out of course but not you because you never go off course

Only for you I shall want, till I do what need be done without waiting for another

My stress, my positive pressure, my sweet curse

In you I house all my troubles

In your windows of self-sacrifice I still mark the reason of my start and together we shall thank each other after the hard drive in every step of the way in the steep and rocky time

With you, I shall knock every door and climb every crooked wall of impossibility

For nothing yet tried is difficult, no mountain unclimbed is hard to climb

My positive pressure, my timeline, let’s rock and troll the wall of stress and stress in anything less we do

Stress ain’t money, for life either aint the value of cents but the sense of value

Stress ain’t relationship, pick a good mother of your children not a good wife for yourself

Stress ain’t the difficulty of stuff, difficult is for the untackled, just start and thank me later

Stress is anything you do below you reach, be happy, be responsible, set your own timelines and deadlines and meet them

Thank you ??

By James Musau

#poetictuesdays

My anguish, my heart,

Oooh walls of my heart, be strong enough to carry the roof of patience so that when the rain of hopelessness beat I, we shall be safe

Thou you steep and rocky level things down for every situation to prevail

Things shall be right even when you be on left trust the ribs, they are strong enough to enclose your multi tasking ventricles and easily they won’t reach you

Remember life is not splendor but significance and with significance, life will be splendid of bliss and peace, so let’s peace together and see

Their cars aren’t fast enough to slow the intensity of your scars

You don’t have a face, so don’t disguise your anger, the real you is protected by a number of muscles and ribs

When ribs crack with laughter, let you mend with pain, for many people know our story but only you and me know our history

Infact just pump blood, I’ll do the rest, I’ll dump your troubles

My Anguish, my tongue

Oooh! The sword of my life, always remain in your sheath

I know you hurt, although you have no bones, you break the heart, but have you ever asked yourself where do broken hearts go?

I know you lucky to hide, shrink back to the mouth and command the teeth to close up their open senselessness and wait for food but will the heart hide?

For God foreknew things wouldn’t be right so he kept the heart on the left side of the chest, He foreknew things wouldn’t be cool, so the heart in a position in the body where the sun can beat, or have you never heard of heartbeat?

I’ve seen queit people prevail because they are stoic but because they have less words to make up a foolish story

Remember patience is hidden amongst less speaking and more anticipation

How valuable you are oooh tongue, just roll more chunks of food make the body vibrant and healthy, speak less, let the hands do more of your words and you’ll be hurtless, you’ll be good and I’ll be glad

Make me a man worth my salt

And you eye, just see don’t cry remember I wash my face every morning

And you hands, yours is to hold spoon and fork to eat and not to poke other people’s eyes, not to choke other people’s necks

And you feet, yours is to walk but not away from responsibility and opportunity

And you nose, yours is to breathe not to nose around other people’s affairs, ears listen to the heart and not be trapped by withering stories of I can’t

Ooooooh my anguish, my body, every part do its sole responsibility, I’ll do the rest and wait till we ambush failure

Thank you ??

By James Musau

#poetictuesdays

It’s true, true because they are foreigners and do believe what they see on their T.Vs, because hotels are places to discuss politics as they eat their manifestos

It’s true because of our SGR, how we Simply Gauged Retarded because of the choices we make but we shall train still

Its true because our leaders hide themselves in those cars to prevent their fat from melting of the scorching sun and to hide their faces from the vague promises they gave us, its not that they love to drive, infact they have drivers,

They are divers of the pool of public money, of the fool of public misunderstanding,

It’s only in Kenya where bounds are not made of glue and paper but signatures that even some don’t know the meaning of signatures because they don’t have one, where we share choices with our leaders because we like their sugar coated words for our diabetic hearts, we share ideas with them but not cars interests because our scars run deep

It’s only in Kenya where leaders have good houses with good seats, cars with multiple seats, parliament many seats that never are fully occupied unless discussing the future of their payslips and allowances but they are now fighting for more seats in parliament, I don’t know if its to host they wives and kids, tell me

Its only in Kenya where funds are never enough to pay teachers, doctors and nurses, where strikes and go-slows are a common phenomenon  for our teachers but our leaders will just signal a pinch for each other, go to some expensive hotel and make plans to charter their pay rise, when seating allowances are granted to such that need to be pushed to sit in parliament and we never are granted speaking allowances when we are willing even to speak the whole day

It’s only in Kenya where citizens bend their time, their backs in ballot boxes to make leaders that are never willing to talk in parliament get to parliament, where the hustle is to pay loans for they take in the name development when they are unwilling to pay the time we loaned them for rising up at 3,4,5 am to vote them in

It’s only in Kenya where citizens think leaders will be their social media to air out their grievances, but the same leaders chase the social media for likes, followers and to trend their stories

So they are willing to build bridges that we can’t cross  because of the frail pillars holding them and shallow waters of development that even if we were to fall in the same river we wouldn’t swim,

So they are starting up an initiative to supply blue band to the bread of living that is never enough for us unless they are coloring our minds

So they have hands to wave in those cars sorrounded by men in black and hands to poke in the hands of the pockets of public scoffers, when we have hands to throw stones to make their rampages successful and mouth to shout their names until we choke our lynx

So they only have feet to walk asking for votes that when they get, their feet develop to wheels to moves speedily against our grievances, when stone masons are used to send quotations that never build up to anything,

So go tell them that we got freedom of independence in 1963, remind them that freedom is not the power to change things to suit one’s needs but the opportunity to exercise responsibility, infact some of us didn’t change poverty as we thought but poverty changed our mode of thinking and our drive although our parents didn’t have anything to drive as a car

So remind them that good life is not a result of good decisions but the psyche to change bad decisions into good ones

So tell them that we went to school some even if didn’t, did escort others with eyes, so we were taught how to read and write but never what to read and write

Thank you

By James Musau

#poeticteusdays

So she was like an israelite, the uncertainties of the wilderness was nothing to do with the joy and allotries awaiting for her in Canaan

So mummy would be her fourth name she’d identify with even if her identity card would be small enough to hold on to the fact that she was one

Infact nine moons were nothing to deject her and if she had some sovereign ability to pull time, she’d do so for she believed that good things take time and that a full cycle would create something remarkable

Infact labor pains sounded like favor pains for it banged her mind that exceeding joy was coming, not by her giving birth as such but joy birthing broad cheeks for her

So she was amongst the first people on earth to set hands on joy for her child was tangible you see,

So she wasn’t a bouncing baby boy, but a bouncing baby mama for she was bouncy of hope and joy knitted together

From nymph, larva, pupa, the insect would be full enough, mature enough to fly unjudged of the size of the wings or the size of the landing surface,

So she believed that her toddler will attend school she herself was unfortunate to set foot on, try through thick and thin to light the candle from both ends so her child would have a bright start

So with a tight schedule and murphy’s law would be a proven worth to fix the dents tougher than gaviscon double action,

So if the child would be used to a stick brush, mummy would be the sensodyne she’d recommend dentists to

So the years drew open to close infancy by the open doors of some classroom for the child,

Although in some local school, the uniform was world-class, sewn from hope and love knitted from mother to child

But who’s time, time grew faster than the child himself and soon he was celebrating his fourteenth birthday, so if she’d opted to start some company, would be celebrating fourteenth anniversary

And if the world was to give her a name, her fourth name would be celebrity for her compitence would be doubtful if she were to attend a job interview but not that pertaining pain, persistence and parenthood

Poverty is not an attendant in every man’s restaurant of life but puberty is always the boiling point of every man’s chemistry of life

So he was now not in the kindergarten, primary but secondary school, so primarily things took another course of youthfulness full of emptiness to distinguish good from evil

So she came to understand why a football coach talks more and is more tactical during half time for solid come back and glamorous results,

So she talked more, thought more and sifted more/some nuggets of wisdom, so to her skill set she now was becoming a very good motivational speaker

So she was now not rolling models for him but rolling him for herself that if he wouldn’t make a good son, she’d tailor an impeccable mother

Time pushed him for another two years when in a secondary school, years of self discovery and curiosity over anything

So he was weird, feared and all were now adding up to shambles in sheer youthfulness

So he didn’t want school anymore although school was busy beckoning him for him, but he wouldn’t because the course of school in him was not in game

He was weird although many at times “am ok” were his words not to mummy alone but to daddy, uncles and friends

He was ok, ok to be out of school and advice out of his to do list,

It wasn’t after a week or month, my memory about it is fazzy, but I won’t forget that mummy found a suicide note, don’t ask me what happened, it’s yet row to deep a finger in this scar

So he passed, passed the examination of self doubt, trauma and stoism,

He failed, failed to understand when problems are shared, every word meets a direct solution and life becomes a rhyme of truth and reality and that’s the rhythm of sound mind we’d dance so ears would shine not with earrings but with earphones of hope and change

So sodomy and bullying at school convinced him to take his life and give it to sheol before burning coals and hailstones of any unforeseen shortcomings befell him, ase far as soddom and gomorrah are concerned,

So it’s easy, easy to accept cookies in a website and even tread miles to buy cookies in some distant bakery, but its hard to accept burrying a sun

An heavenly body to represent you in the sky when your feet are feeble to chase the sky and stand high above

How do you burry a son even if you know how to catch some shovel and throw soil on a casket of one who was to bring home some shopping basket when time is come?

How do you burry a sun when it’s yet dawn and wet and the tears of push are yet row and only his hands are fit enough to wipe away the tears?

So she wept of the hole he left in her heart, and maybe be God knew it kept the heart on the left chest for things have not been right since then,

Thank you

By James Musau

#poetictuesdays