Happy Poetry Day part 7: Angie Ngugi.

*sighs*

We’ve made it to the last day of this celebration. And I have to say that this did me so much more good than I thought it would. So thank you for tagging along. Now for the finale! Today’s featured artist is Angie Ngugi!

“My name is Angie Ngugi, a poet, writer, feminist and medic who is passionate about telling stories and personal experiences through poetry.”

It’s not that you weren’t perfect, you were.
It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t enough, you over flowed.
You made me feel loved.
You were gentle.
I saw you today.
I was a bit surprised to see you since last I heard you had moved to another part of town.
Yet here you were,
Right in front of me.

It had been two years since I last saw you, so a lot was going through my mind.
You had changed, a little.
You had a new spring in your step, you looked happy.

I was having a bad day so you were the last person I needed to see.
I couldn’t faceyou, especially after how we ended things.
My first instinct was to run and hug you.
Muscle memory, I guess
I wanted to ask you if life had been kind to you.
Whether you finally accomplished all your dreams,
Dreams that used to be ours
But it wasn’t my place, anymore.

I watched you walk away from me, again
I wish I hadn’t let you go but all I would have said was
“It’s not that you weren’t perfect, you were.
It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t enough, you over flowed.
You made me feel loved
You were gentle.”

And it just isn’t fair to drop that on someone Especially after two years, the AUDACITY.
So I let you go,
Like I did, two years ago.

Thank you all. For helping me grow in hope. I needed this.

Xxx

Mutheu wa Sumbi

Happ Poetry Day part 6: Hopeshi.

Hey again. So we’ve made it to day six. Day, idk for your journey in self isolation. I hope you’ve spoken to someone that loves you, deeply. (virtual hug). Now I present today’s feature… Hopeshi.

Hi. I’m Hope also known as Miss Hopeshi, a lover of life and a creative. I love creating content in form of videos on YouTube and writing on my blog. Find me on YouTube and Instagram @misshopeshi. My website is hopeshi.com

While growing up, I kept complaining to my mum that people(in public) always look at me so so so so so much. Have I emphasized enough? She told me that I’d get used to it. Well, I’m 23 now and they’re still staring, Mom!

Most of my friends who I walk with in town/ public places, normally complain that guys are staring. haha, sorry I don’t know why they do it. I just politely reply “that ukitembea na Mimi itabidi uzoee”

A couple of times I’ve been to dates (like twice, I don’t go to dates often, story for another day) where the guys have pointed out that the ladies serving us “wameniangalia vibaya”
I don’t know whether they tell me this to promote female rivalry or what because personally when I’m alone, I barely notice such things until it’s pointed out to me.

These kind of scenarios got me wondering, how am I going to live going forward?

For instance, the other day (to be specific Saturday) I was in the supermarket with my sister and gosh, have you ever thought you’re trending somewhere and you don’t know? Or your printed picture lays somewhere plastered on a tree written “WANTED”, Or a picture written “thief” is on the supermarket notice board showing a nervous you stealing from the supermarket’s shelves. Or worst case scenario, your face is somewhere plastered on a tree (several trees) printed, “MAPENZI,NGUVU ZA KIUME, PESA! CALL THIS NUMBER 0712345678”
how the poster would look like

Back to the storytime. I was busy window shopping for the TV I’d want in future (a girl can only dream) when these two guys (millennials, men, maybe early 20s) stared at me suspiciously. You know, that kind of stare just before someone says hi. That one. I had to walk in between them to make them stop staring. They never did say hi even though I could see it in their eyes…

It felt like an episode of an Indian movie where me as a character would turn and bang their 2 heads together and they would fall! I would then stand on them victoriously and proclaim, “Staring is rude guys!!”
They’d learn their lesson and never stare. Again.

I digress.

So, at this point I know you might be wondering whether I’m the one asking for the attention, maybe by “my dressing” or sth. But lemme be honest, when I’m dressed to kill, I am normally comfortable with the stares because, you know, I’d stare at myself too??
But when all I’m wearing is some baggy jeans, a hoodie and no make-up, plus I had my ugly glasses, like bro? 😭 nothing about me would/should pass interest.

I really wished the two gentlemen did say hi or sth because this would have definitely mitigated the awkwardness. They dead-ass triggered my anxiety!



Point of this long story is, SAY HI GUYS whenever we meet in these streets. I don’t bite!

Isn’t it happy for today’s post, HAPPY NEW MONTH ☺️.

If you suffer from anxiety, the link below might be of help. You are welcome!
https://youtu.be/kKR_zc37RQI

Stay lovely.

Xxx

Mutheu wa Sumbi

Happy Poetry Day. Part 3.

The Artist I am featuring today is:

Jairus Ong’etta.

He is a spoken word artist, actor and writer.He is the first ever Mr. Albinism Kenya as well as the founder of the contemporary mime group, Mime Kenya. His poetry skills have given him platforms to showcase his dexterity with words, which has led him to being part of the Zebra Poetry Film Festival in Münster, Germany.
He’s taken part at the TEDx event (Buruburu) as a speaker _
He has won the Kenyatta University’s Poet of The Year Award amongst others.
Last year his short film MISFIT, got a silver dhow award at the Zanzibar International Film festival.

His goal in life is to use his art to radiate hope and heal hearts around the world.

I don’t want to imagine

I think of those mornings that invite dark days. when sunlight rains and drenches you of pain, past.

When the rays blindfold you to let you see your castle crumble and the seas allow you to watch your peace of mind being carried away by the waves

I hear of trees in the Amazon whistling away dirges

of spoons scooping from feeble plates

when you see life losing its breathe

When fake oxygen chokes your lungs and_

of wishes in form of horses that not even the rich can ride

of love spelled as H A.T.E

when the second hand on the clock decides to tick faster

when the rooster crows at noon

Of flowing blood forced to break it’s banks

to rob lives,
to paint disaster

of cracks rebuilding walls

of sleepless nights begging for dreams

loud voices unheard

of wrong teachings in form of songs replayed on our stereos

I don’t want to imagine saying Amen before making a prayer

those limps and staggers of a sober mind

of lambs roaring

once rolling wheels, now motionless tyres in the
hands of a mob burning a mugler.

when justice says neigh but the I’s have it.

genuine cries but viewed as childish temper tantrums best ignored

when green shouts move but red doesn’t even have have the strength to say stop

So i paint my thoughts colorless

pull these triggers and shoot away stereotypes

collabo with the shooting stars in the music of light

when Kenya will embrace truth and see the potential energy lying all over

maybe we should replace oxygen with inert gases if that’s the way to breathe out brightness.

cause if my thermometer is going to measure the same temperatures then I don’t want to imagine

His social media:

Fb/Twitter/Instagram
@jairusongetta

Stick around for more awesome Features.

Xxx Mutheu wa Sumbi

Happy World Poetry day part 2:

Hi everyone. The second poet I’m featuring is Slim Shaka. He is a writer and a spoken word artist.

Here is his intro.

My name is Slim Shaka.
I am a performance poet with the Evolution art hub; a network of artists committed to inspire positive Social, political and economic change through art and leadership.
I’ve performed at various poetry platforms; Poetry After Lunch, History vs His_story(1 and 2), Try my shoes, Anika forum… Just to list a few.
My poetry is grounded on bridging ancient and modern street philosophy in voicing the status quo. A learning process I seek to obediently achieve.”

Enjoy…

THE LOST WORLD

I woke up in the lost world, 

The world of my dreams.

Tell the Quantum physicist. To travel the universe, I nolonger need his quantum foam. 

I figured,

My soul already did that. Long before I took the body form. I woke up in the lost world. The world of my dreams; when alkebulan was free of these boarders of segregation. The Azanian civilization blossomed from the land of Kush to South Afrika. The Indian ocean was still the Azanian sea & the Atlantic, the Ethiopian sea.

The Environment was overwhelmed by people meditating by the river side.

Nature spoke and humanity responded to the purity that understood the path to the source. I guess Divine words can only be as meaningful to those who understand it’s language.

You can never give lessons to a people never taught how to listen. So I listened.

I listened to the philosophy of Che. The only black man born white, the only white man who knew about rights. He showed the the love of being truthful, the truth in being loved. He said to me; Son, Your world is corrupted by selfishness & greed but don’t be like them.

Nature’s wrath is pure, not even the safest of them capitalists will survive… Death, has never missed it’s Target.

Stand tall & preach love & truth. You’ve got nothing to loose. Don’t bow to the self righteousness mental; one that uses fear to control the living, using food to control those in need of it, using amunition to control those who fear it but be those who heal the world through kindness. Ensure your generation respects life, because you are aware of where it comes from. Heal the world & go to extinction as a Noble species.

You are Mutambaruka, you are Midikizela. With freedom you live far beyond the heartbeat; Here, the dead don’t need oxygen to live. Just the inscription from the author of life saying; Live! 

And che went away.

Then I listened. I listened some more to the chants from the trees & there I found the Egyptian Queen, Nefertiti. She looked at me, smiled and said; 

Slim Shaka, 

Your words can save humanity. Let your letters maintain the formula. Sons of the Legendary black Queen Tiye. May the awareness of who you are Grant you wisdom to seek Divine consciousness and not social conformity so when you pay those taxes, ensure the money doesn’t leave with your dignity. Least you sacrifice your humanity for their debts. 

You should know, Their economy hates vacuum.

But to be truly free is to be able to think & reflect in your society that only approves those who repeat what they are taught without question;

 The government is always right, no question.

My religion is perfectly right, no question.

I am always right, no question?

Well here in Alkebulan the truth attracts criticism. It’s the only way it becomes affirmative how come yours doesn’t?

And the Queen went away.

At this point I realized, all this time I’ve been blinded by expectations. Never really seen the world for what it is. The selfishness & the greed that I’ve always hated has always been part of me.

A self destructive conformist. Honest to the world but never honest to self,

Seeking freedom for the world but never quite known freedom myself. The beauty of my mask only works from within; it’s difficult to admit, how then can I face it?

Trying to balance who I am & who I should be got me sleep walking in a dream that is this perfect reality. Will I ever get it right? Will I ever retrace my path to the Divine vision of my ancestors?

Will the value of my history worth much more than just the ephemeral amusement from the past?

Oh God, I woke up in the lost world.

Keep clicking for more featured artists.

Xxx

Mutheu wa Sumbi

HAPPY WORLD POETRY DAY

Hi everyone, in celebration of this year’s world poetry day, I will be featuring some of my favorite poets and their works.

To start, I’d like to introduce you to Nuru Rufo.

Thank you darling for honoring me with your words.

Be prepared for more impactful poems.

Xxx

Mutheu wa Sumbi

Again.

I cried today. Because I was angry and frustrated. That my plans weren’t working out as smoothly as they usually do. That I can’t go home as soon as I want to. That I am alone, in that way, again. Alone with my thoughts and fears. Alone with my victories.

I know who I am. I know what I want. I know how to get it. But I can’t get it right now.

That’s why I am angry, and frustrated.
That’s why I want to tackle someone.
That’s why I want to break the glass jar of bath salts that you got me.

Thats why I regret leaving you.

A love of convenience that took years to build.
Crushed into nothing by egos and silence and distance.

Why does it take so long to make something beautiful, yet it takes one sentence to ruin it all?

I still don’t know.
Maybe I’ll find out tomorrow.

Hopefully..


Ivy.