LETTER TO ‘’MHESHIMIWA’’

Would you please explain, ‘’bwana mheshimiwa’’ why you have to disrupt my busy schedule by making me wait in traffic just because you want to beat traffic to be in time for a luncheon which my taxes pay for, when in actual sense, you should be the one held up, you should be the one giving me way to go exhaust my intelligence so that you could have your daily bread. Hell I do more for my fellow citizens than you do, you should be the one calling me MHESHIMIWA, you should be consulting with me first about developments for your people before you assign your goons to survey a piece of land for you to satisfy your own interests .I think, no I’m certain that you do not even remember three quarters of the things you preach when you are gunning for votes, envisioning the comfort you have when sited back left in my car, yes my car, because my money purchased it. You deserve a gate away, yes a gate away, only that this time, you won’t have the satisfaction of having a return ticket. I cast my vote to give you employment, ain’t it funny how I get turned away at your headquarters when I come seeking for employment. Come to think of it I should be the one sited on the boss’s luxurious leather sit while you go and tarmac for ideas that would develop my environment, I should be the one issuing out assignments for projects that will help create a comfortable life for my people, You should be the one having sleepless nights clouded with thoughts of the people you work for,
‘’did mama nani’s daughter go to school today?’’
‘’are the hospital equipments working? Are my people getting the medical attention they deserve?”
‘’are the students being taught in schools?”
It is sad that you have not realized that you have driven me to the edge. It is said that patience pays, but with you it PAINS.I am tired of being between a rock and a hard place. And so I have decided to push back with all that I have.
It is a NEW DAY, it is a new ERA.
See, I have a notion,
With the best intentions
So hold my hand fellow citizens and help me make our lives worth living.
‘’bwana mheshimiwa,’’ GOOD RIDDANCE, not to bad rubbish but to unwanted hypocrisy.
©Nana.

cre8ive spillz: BREAK ME

cre8ive spillz: BREAK ME: "Break me Again and again Give me the satisfaction I yearn for This feeling I have grown so fond of Take my heart and tear it up Tear it up i..."

BREAK ME

Break me
Again and again
Give me the satisfaction I yearn for
This feeling I have grown so fond of
Take my heart and tear it up
Tear it up into small pieces
Because I can’t stand
Living with my heart beating in unison
See I am used to its uneven beat
This beat which helps me sleep soundly at night
So break it
Because I cannot leave in peace
I am not used to a peaceful life
Enslave my heart
Let me live with the pain that flows in my vein
Break me
© Nana.

MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE

The pungency was appealing. The humid air in the hall was laced with pot, puke, poop, spoof and booze. Sweaty bodies were strewn haphazardly on the chairs and floor, drinks splashed everywhere you dared step. There was the occasional pool of blood which on trying to avoid, sent you onto a used condom thrown on the floor. Outcome, free floor-skating with the end involving heads, backs and elbows making impromptu kissing sessions with the floor. In this jumbled up insane melee was where she woke up, sprawled on the floor but fully dressed, if you’d call the conveyor belt-thin thing she was wearing for a skirt modest. She tugged at her skirt and felt weird. There was nothing underneath. She wasn’t sure if she'd left home like that or something had happened. Her head felt like a keg of beer. Wobbly, yet heavy as a maafucker. She was sore...and sticky. One swift rub of her nether regions confirmed her worst fears. She'd been fucked...and fucked real hard cause she couldn’t feel her butt and waist. Her pussy was on embers, burning hot like she'd been impaled by a ramrod. Now resting on her laurels, she reached out for her clutch which was trapped between the floor and a 38b naked boob which she had to flip over to ease the pressure. The multi-colored, light coming through the windows just served to alleviate the selective amnesia she had at the moment. Wait a minute, she knew this place. Of course she did, how else could she have gotten there in the first place. Oh no! Not this place, nooo. She didn’t know how she got to the gate. 'No one should see me, 'she thought. She ran like never before in her life. Her church was just round the corner and it was Sunday morning. The asperse fabric she had on couldn’t disguise her poise. Surprisingly, there were no adults at the church. She only thought of the drugstore, the shower then her bedroom. The drugstore was open. Phew! She sighed then ducked in. She bought what she wanted then rushed out and came face to chest with her pastor. 'Deedee!','daddy!' she stared up at him, then around at the congregation and remembered the door-to-door ministry. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were focused elsewhere, and the expression on his face told it all. She followed his gaze and stopped short. Her clutch was on the ground, open and besides her makeup kit and phone was a pack of magnums, and the p2 pills she had just bought and unwrapped....it was one of those moments...
©Ian