Until now.

I am starting to see life for what it is.
A series of mistakes, that if repeated, lead to destruction of self.

Languishing in it makes misery my home.

Or.

I could push past myself and love me ’cause I’m lovable.

I am starting to see love for what it is, not what I want it to be. All the words I hold in my tongue so I don’t offend you and the decisions I make despite your advice. And the frustration you have with my ways.

My frustration with you not being on my side.
You won’t love me to my death bed, I heard you say that.

I don’t want to be the kind of person that constantly surpresses who I am and what I want to fit into a world that couldn’t care less.

I don’t want to run away from things that haven’t happened yet.

I fell into the darkness I thought was myself and couldn’t get up.

Until now.

I am loving myself. It means looking her in the eye every day and giving her pleasures she’s never had.

And that’s okay.

Honest worship

Honest worship
I want to do that.
I want to be true to you in my fear and faith
In my heart I know that I am yours
So my mouth with gusto will say it
I love you
As the trees love their maker
And their flowers blossom for Him
You are the reason I flower
I am your vine, one of your branches
A grape on your great grape tree
I am a fig made fit for your garden
I am a root stubbornly growing through the desert soil
I will not faint
I will persevere
And yes you are the God that makes it rain in this desert heart you planted
My storm bit rock of a being
My soul dry bones
You reigh in me
And I flower I blossom like the Ivy I am
In awe of your awesome
You are a cool Dad.

Yes you
Father of nations
Constantly constant in this inconsistent world.
Beautifully lovely loving
Words cannot contain, explain or proclaim enough about how magical, yes magical
How beautiful
How marvelous are your ways

Way more than imagination can explain
Words upon words

Poems young and old

Prophets here and there
Fake and real

Cannot ever
Will not dare
May not phathom

We can’t say enough about you Lord Jesus
Yaweh we cannot do u justice

Just us
And the rocks
The trees
The breeze
The rhythm
Rhymes
Poets and poems
Worship leaders

Beautiful people
Look up
He is here and isn’t that beautiful people.

Isn’t it

To my babies.

Baby, it’s too early in the morning for resentment.

 

Please have your tea, eat your brekie and breathe.

 

The world and its shit will be there when you are done with your me time.

 

So let the apple cinnamon tea in and take your time with your conquest.

 

Your magic isn’t short lived or fast acting.

 

It’s slow and savory, and succulent, sour and sweet.

 

And slow acting, slow in speech and has grammatical errors and unfinished sentences…

 

But it is your poems Ivy.

It is your magic Susan

It’s your power Joy

It’s your picture Sieg

Its your genius Nick

It’s your heart Eu.

It’s your love Srishti.

It’s your words Alex O.

 

 

I dedicate this post to my tribe.

And to the five years I have spent on this Platform.

To WordPress for allowing me to

Pour myself out for myself and for you guys, and for my readers.

 

This space has opened up my eyes, heart, soul and mouth. It has given me courage.

 

I love you all.

 

Xxx

 

MUTHEU WA MBULA

 

Ivy sumbi

 

IV

Slay, queen…

You are so beautiful

With a smile like that, eyes like that.

Oh my word, your skin.

Sexy, kissable lips.

The way you sway your hips.

That dress, your hair, is that your hair?

 

You look at me and expect me to know less than I do.

When you meet a good looking woman who takes care of herself

you know that kind,

The long flowing weave kind

The makeup done just right kind

The designer labels, expensive jewellery kind

The “boujee” kind.

The apparently high maintenance kind

The kind you see and feel the need to floss in front of

The kind you feel the need to sponsor

As if she didn’t get all this on her own…

 

I have heard that the male mind is organized storage filled with boxes upon boxes, in different piles

each pile representing an area of his life

each box characterizing a person, object or memory.

 

So I wonder, do you have a crate with my name on it?

What words did you find worthy to bank?

Cause when you look at me, face blank eyes dazed

I feel that you never see beyond my face!

Behind the image I display.

I am not finery

These clothes that adorn me do not define me

Ornaments are inconsequential when it comes to my identity.

With high-end gems draped across my wrists

I ask you this, why don’t you expect more than you see?

Doesn’t your tongue know how to form words that complement my personality?

You are stuck on beautiful.

Thinking I am fine art.

The kind you show off to your friends

and use to decorate your walls, something to maintain

You don’t ask me what I do or what I like.

You don’t care from my opinion.

My intellect is a non-factor

I go from eye candy to arm candy to trophy

Always sweet never delectable

Agreeable, not formidable

As if a woman cannot be gorgeous and exceptionally intelligent at the same time.

 

xxx

 

Mwiitu wa Mbula