How Old Am I?

I do not know how old I am!

Or even if I am old, enough to nibble on the fair share.

Of this thing that, ever since I realized myself in this body have chased.

I caught it.

Once or twice,

I don’t have it.

My head aches.

So hard!

I know my heart might be brewing stupidity.

My head aches because my mind wants out!

Even I agree.

I have had enough.

What would you do reader?

Answer me or I will take a fold. My heart has the strength to bully us all!

I have guards with boots.

I have to guard this heart.

My mind fights and my body pretends.

While I sit on my false throne trying to nibble.

Like a country mouse.

I am afraid it is a game I’ll always lose.

With a heart so fierce, it turns many into ash.

Turns paper to ash, wood to ash.

It makes stone stronger, or weaker.


Just remember and never forget,

I will remain to be,

~Koome Manyara~

Tentacles of Love.

We speak louder!

I am right there, in the eye of this sea.

Mile after mile of blue after hue!

Tentacles of love I’m swimming from, you see.


Of course not for you,

For me.

I am right there, in the grasp of this sea.

In the grasp of a sea monster.


In the warm embrace of a creature.

I am right there.

Send a rescue ship,

With lots of canons and oil.

Bomb or suffocate the tentacles.

If I was a bird, I would never stop flying.

If I was a scorpion, I’d sting every ankle I’d see.

If I was crazier, I would fail to admit it.

We speak louder,

Can we tap out young?

Can we say the sea is crazier than us?

I will remain to be,

~Koome Manyara~

Assassin’s Fault.

Hey there reader. I want you to know that I am fuller than before and I want you to enter my realm.

I am King and my people think I am heading to nothing.


Simply because I tie myself into silly tiny a string.

I am King but I feel like a little not pretty thing.

And my words is all left bound deeper than this skin!

I have hired an assassin!

I am not afraid so let the world sting!

How my crown got tied to the ground, just sing!

But I have hired an assassin.

I have handed pictures of me in my lowest and I have paid coin.

Deliver this to my newest higher self dear assassin;

All my heads on spikes, that I may find to sing.

Of how the Assassin took out my lowest of strings.

How he shot every personality that I hate and that is mine.

I have paid in coin!

I will remain to be,

~Koome Manyara~

How Late Can a Man Scream?

I have been sitting and staring, waiting for this very thing to happen; Every wall in my room collapses and I can see everything.

I can see myself as a young stupid child in the baking sun.

If I had a bigger rifle I’d shoot the little bastard straight between the eyes.

But with this shotgun evry bullet goes stray!

I want to tear this little thing apart and recover whatever I have left.

I want you to Understand me.

But I don’t want you to know what everything means, do you understand me reader?

Lemon tastes better with honey!

But lemon don’t taste bitter than a bee sting.

I might be sick with this form of Art.

The one where I see all that I don’t want to.

The one that I feel all that I might want to.

The one that I know how to handle the thorns on me, as a beautiful flower!

Do you want to know how a floor made of fire feels like to a foot made of fire?

Well, it tickles then it finally burns!

I want the walls to roll up but all I can see is me, laughing at all that killed whatever I claim to be.

In truth and in word reader!

In truth and in word.

But do not whisper these words about me to the winds,

They surely won’t believe You!

I have a clue what divinity is, but first I have to fight my way out of this labyrinth!

I will remain to be,

~Koome Manyara~

After Everything.

So I call this friend of mine at exactly 3.30 in the A.M.

She picks up and groans like a wild swine.

“Goddammit Koome! It’s 3.30! Are you a demon lord now or what?”

Hi to you too I reply.

She clicks her tongue like a nervous hen! “What is it now? Have you been sitting and watching the walls waiting for ‘Art to Call’ you home?”

This is why I like her, she pretends that she doesn’t care about my little worlds.

No, I have been thinking about what goes on after I’m dead.

She gasps and curses! “You silly young artist! What then?”

When I am dead, everything will be as it was; even you will have me as a memory.

She laughs hard!

Yes my friend, Yes!

When I am dead, even those who ate at my honor behind my back will claim to be my strongest rock!

When I am dead, I won’t be able to get back.

She kisses her teeth and clicks,

“You sure do like cramping my time! What about when you are alive young artist?”

I laugh and tell her that when I am alive, I will write till I am dead!

She sighs!

“So you are here for the sole purpose of Art? You think the Universe holds you that you may do this?”

I sigh back.

I mean, I am up and not an ounce of sleep in my eyes.

My mind is racing for words that I can’t even shape into life.

My heart is silent, bullied into submission!

I can feel her frown over the mobile. “So what exactly did you want to tell me?”

I take a deep breath and tell her that she will not believe it;

I have realized that I can’t die, I am a creator too!

She calls me a bastard.

She hangs up!

I will always remain to be,

~Koome Manyara~

Man of Clay.

I am not the best at this kind of game. Dear reader, you all wanted me to play it easy.

Let me tell you a story then, will you take it easy?

One day I woke up and I was made of clay.

I felt all brand new but I had nothing inside me.

Just dirt.

And hate for being able to wake up this way.

I couldn’t get out of bed because I was afraid they would see what I hated.

They would hate it too!

Throw me in a basin of water maybe.

Crack me in the open fire of the sun maybe.

I didn’t know!

Do you understand me reader?

If only I could paint it better,

If only I knew how to say that the shadows we cast sometimes are terrible beasts.

It makes some of us not only wet our pants but also hide in places that stink!

On the day I woke up as a man made of clay,

I knew it all had to stop on a certain day.

Today surely isn’t that day.

Tomorrow maybe.

I will always remain to be,

~Koome Manyara~

Disarming Myself.

We all have to agree on one thing at the very least.

What makes a man’s feet tougher than leather?

Is it how well he walks the fire?

Or is it how well the fire works his feet?

My feet are tough but I still feel the pains of some sparks.

Sparks like “I love you but I don’t know you.”

This is my piece of cake for every human I’ve met.

It is also my peace that I am almost completely unknown to each and one. So none can use me against myself.

Then it also seems to be my best curse, no one can reach me when I spiral out of control.

But hear this, the world I know is full of lies and hogs.

You know, swines that desire every piece laid on the table.

If I wanted to be sad I would have been the saddest thing to ever grace these lands.

But no! Do I look like a swine or lowly thing?

I am higher than a King, in truth and word.

I chose to be a man of Art!

With all that I feel I will surely grace even the lands that I’ve not walked.

I am sorry if this hurts; You never stood for me.

For that, I will never desire more than the hardened soil provides!

I will always remain to be,

~Koome Manyara~

T’was Me.

I realize I am running towards an alley of self doubt and self hate.

So I stop running.

I turn my neck around and screen my eyes for whatever has been chasing.

T’was Me!

My stomach is clenching for all those butterflies dying.

My chest tensing from the darkness of mine heart palpitating.

My skin numbing down to the force of blood throbbing.

Whatever people offer me never fits my jigsaw.

People offer me blows.

People find ways to squander my truth deep and below.

To the neck so I can’t turn and to my lungs so I won’t wail.

If I can’t kill all the clowns I might as well burn the circus to ash.

If I can’t keep running I might as well run myself down.

I have hunted my own self for so long,

I want to take out the weakness in me.

But like hell I can fight and run!

~Koome Manyara~

Blues and Madness, huh?! 😝

Listen to me. Take your time and shape your wandering ears. I know you can hear my voice, I am not that far away.

Because of bone crushers; bones have a weakness.

Because of Iron; Iron itself has a weakness.

Or a strength; Iron sharpens Iron.

As far as I know, I hunt myself.

For that reason; I know how to run and hide.

And because I am not stupid; I know how to fight for my things.

My space and my every little phase. One and each!

Can you understand me reader?

Can you tell that I hunt the blemishes on my heart and soul and mind and spirit?

Can you smell the dried blood of all the battles I have lost and won?

In preparation for a final war?

Come on now, tell the grandest huntsman that; Tell me the season is over and that I submit to this huntsman I feed and keep inside.

Tell me the truth of Blues and Madness 😝

~Koome Manyara~


24 years,

Roaming this little world I find myself in.

24 years of rewriting the lies that I am born of sin.

24 years of running from things I breed inside and within.

24 years of building walls to keep myself in.

24 years of playing Mr. Dustbin.

24 years of humming to a silent tune.

24 years fighting for a final conclude.

24 years unshaping a heart shaped like a sand dune.

24 years proving I am not blue.

24 years chaining this handsome wolf.

24 years bluffing of a miracle glue.

24 years glueing heart and mind into a single hue.

Come on now,

I will live till I’ve had enough.

And when I’ve had enough and I’m silent and the body cold,

You will remember this Art.

It will keep me warm, It will keep you warm.

I am whatever I claim to be.

I am.

~Koome Manyara~