Of Paper and Ash.

I hope you all feel well and okay. Count ten breaths and see my words take form.


I am at work. It is around midday and the sun, well the sun is being the sun.


Everyone is there.

The usual birds are around too. I think they like my aura.


But today I am sitting in the open, but in a corner away from the eyes of the people.


But the birds can see me.

The trees can feel me and the worms understand it.


I am adoring the darkness that makes me part of who I am.


It looks like a pit but it is warm within.


It looks bad and dark but it has stars on it.


And the Old man who watches us work starts bellowing, bull style!


“Koome!”


I never judge him.


He cannot manage imagination.

He cannot see through doors and laces of time.


My body smiles and goes back to work. A shell bending and working.


I wasn’t there.

I was still at the sight of the birds.


And together we were wondering,


How the sun was shining and it was dark.


Then one bird coughs a song.

It doesn’t sing, it coughs.


Too loud to be false it sings,


“Paper burn. Paper ash.”

~Koome Manyara~

Of Buffaloes and Birds.

I play this little game with the truest part of myself.

This is why I am this kind of artist.


I feed this truest part till it can take no more goodness.


Then I am able to write.


But I like the other way more better,


Where I starve my truest part till it can take no more.


It gets hungry then angry.


It then swallows me up and makes me twist.


I wonder which you like.


But it won’t matter.

I bet you know which one writes.


One day when not a single sun has been darkened by the deeds I despise,


On that day when the sea stops singing and turning to the seductions of the moon,


Then when the winds stop carrying my gossip to ears of those gods that wish me anger,


While still the bees continue to hum of the sweetness my roses deliver


The day when the buffaloes abandon the birds on their backs.


On that day come find me.


On that day maybe you can see this truest part.


But first the suns, the seas, the winds, the bees and the buffaloes.


Even when my time here runs out.

Remember me.

~Koome Manyara~

Of Armies and Men.

Some things stick much better when glued to a smoother surface.

One morning I woke up and I had a letter by my side.


The contents speaking of a trial in the army.


Now look at me,


I cannot take off my armour,


I cannot sleep neither can I dream,


I cannot lay my blades down,


I cannot take a bath!


I have to watch.


Through the night and crashing down the day,


Like a sunflower with no seeds, no oil!


Like a sunflower who hates the Sun.


Like the sea without creatures and waves and tides.


But I have to pass the trial.


Let me watch.


Not an anxious wait


When the test pops will I be ready?


I will be.


My blades will be ready.


But the arms, the muscles?


Because I want a place in the army.


Not because I do not belong.


Not because I went wrong


Regardless,


I am the Army man!

~Koome Manyara~

Young Blood.

Hello. About my silence, I apologize.

Remember when I told you of the journey, descending to some ground?

Yes.

When I touched ground and the creatures and men and hogs ran my way,

I stood and watched them come.

And when they did none could raise a finger over my skin.

I told you!

But they reeked.

These foul creations that somehow represented me stank and it made me sick.

Paper cannot control fire.

Paper cannot touch flames.

Paper burn, paper ash!

Sick as I was, I brag as a warrior!

The ground thinks it can swallow me.

Make me a victim of hell.

It tries and it spits me back up.

Pepper burns tongue!

The ground thinks it can control the lines I create and mould me into a fragile glass.

Glass touch ground, glass shatter!

They cannot touch the lining on my armour because paper burn, paper ash!

Because pepper burn tongue!

Because I am no glass to shatter!

I rolled in the dirt as I waited on my wings to grow back.

I rolled as they watched all greedy and wanting.

My silver they wanted and my glory too.

But I have a name you know,

I answer to that only.

The name I have carried with me ever since existence.

My true name.

With this the ground is afraid of me.

The men, the hogs and the creatures fear those that know their names.

Do you know yours or are you afraid of the ground?

~Koome Manyara~

The Falling.

Well, I cannot accept neither can I deny. Some are saying I have been away. I have been right here. You have been away. Yes, You! But I have things to say. It won’t come easy but here goes.

I was aware of what would happen if I touch the ground.

I knew how many dogs and hogs and things I cannot name waited with a patience humans would adore.

You should have seen me.

Ha!

You should have.

I made the best of it all. As I went down making enemies all the way.

Smiling like a hippie but burning more than a phoenix.

Man!

I hate the ground.

The dogs started fighting the hogs while the others I can’t name waited on it all.

Scrambling over my shares, my glory, my armour and my name.

I am serious, about the lies I saw and the dirt I bore.

And it made me smile.

The greedy bastards salivating over me made me smile.

The lies and dirt made me smile.

I touched the ground.

And they came in numbers.

But I am here telling this because I know who I am.

Sometimes I go past the ground and into hell, and I come back.

Filthy or stinking it matters not.

I bet you want to know what happened when I touched ground.

I will tell you, but you will not be able to listen.

Or will you?

~Koome Manyara~

Alright Lady.

When was the last time I gave you a story. Buckle up reader.

During the weekend I met up with a good friend of mine. We have been friends for so long,in this life and previous ones I am sure.

He wanted us to go have some good time, and I went. I got there buzzing with energy and power.

Wassup wassup Rafiki.

We don’t shake hands, we are past that. He had his girlfriend around, so I say Hi. We talk and talk, making jokes and merry. And his lady turns to me and asks,

“Can I introduce you to my friend someday?”

I look at my friend and he says to me voiceless,

“Go on.”

I look at the lady and smile.

Why do you say so.

“Come on Koome. I’ve been around you for some time now. I think I’m figuring you out.”

I look at my friend and he says again voiceless,

“Go on.”

I do not think that would be a good idea for your friend. I bet she is pretty and nice. But it won’t be good for her. And also not so good for you if you keep thinking you have me figured out.

She laughs. She thinks I am bluffing or hiding.

“Why do you say so. You are a good one.”

Is she made of fire?

Now she stops smiling. None of us is. My friend is listening. He won’t say a word.

“You are funny Koome. Fire you say?”

Alright lady.

Then I decided I’d show her. My friend sat upright,

“Don’t!”

She thinks I am afraid Rafiki, afraid of knowing people.

Alright lady, lean in and look straight in my eyes. Then you will know why she has to be made of fire.

I leaned over the table.

Lean in now lady.

She didn’t make it over the table. My friend always knows how to stop the fun. He looked at me and smiled,

“You bastard! Always showing off.”

I smiled at the lady and told her to ease up. I am always serious about what I am. She smiled and said,

“I should still introduce you.”

I turned to my friend and shrugged, he should have let her see the flames behind my eyes. Then he said to her,

“Sugar, men like him burn so hot for flowers to grow. And until he lets you, it is impossible to know. Hush now and ease it off. The man isn’t alone. He is happy and merry as you can see.”

I smile and nod.

I am never alone lady.

We made merry of the night, crashing against the fading moon and celebrating the rising sun.

~Koome Manyara~

6

6 lines. 6 meanings.

Do not judge my words.

You will find trouble when it finds you.

I remember everything, that is my curse.

I was hoping the Sun would rise at dawn but nothing happened.

The stars kept on mocking me.

Who else is mocking me?

~Koome Manyara~

Blue Birds and Love.

A blue bird in a firm cage.

I hope every reader is fine and okay. This little journey can swallow the not fine and not okay. Close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths. Now take my hand and see my words take form. Follow me.

I am walking home.

Disgusted by the ugliness reflected in the mirror.

I wonder what happened to the sweet fragrant thorn petal.

I am disgusted by the singing birds and the buzzing bees.

Everything is buzzing with beauty but one ugly bird.

A blue angry bird.

Shoot it down hunter.

It is spoiling the little forest.

I cannot control it. I cannot make it leave.

But I am in love.

I love the things I cannot control.

Because why not?

Why can’t I control this and that?

I told you.

I am in love. Mad and blind.

Look at me.

Take a nice look at me dancing in the false sun.

Do you feel the rays?

Cold as the knobs on Hell’s doors.

But the blue bird can Sing.

Listen to me go on and on.

Time over time about how hard I’ve shaken my apple tree.

For fruits that I do not want but I have.

I need more. Give me more.

I deserve what more has to offer.

But as I said,I lost favour.

In the Son and his Father’s eyes.

But I found power and peace even without their eyes over me.

Now I can see through me.

Through me all the way to my core.

That’s why I can see my blue little bird.

Which I wish a hunter shoots down.

Shoot it down hunter!

It is why I can call an army when I can’t fight.

Not when I am afraid. Like I am.

Why are these feet cold and the boots so warm.

Feel it,it is true.

Stop looking around for a way out.

My edges are carved into my heart.

A rock stone organ that no one knows.

A rock stone organ protected by a diamond mind.

A Steel mind.

Once upon a time there lived a blue little bird.

Who sang and sang till his master carved a stone cage for it.

You can listen to this song over and over.

Find pity if you are a soft little ball.

The bird is comfortable.

The master is the proudest of them all.

And my veins are made of art.

And my name calls me home.

If any hunter shoots my precious blue little bird.

Let the forest eat him or her up.

~Koome Manyara.~

Nothing Like You.

One step at a time. If you make me run,then hell shall loosen up and break.

I am nothing different from you.

But I am not you.

Never the same.

I have seen not whatever your eyes have.

But mine are laden with the skeletons of my fragility.

You can laugh.

You can hope I don’t come back.

I have not felt the pumping of your heart.

I only know mine.

It pumps like a stallion.

It breaks my chest and floods my lungs.

Godamnit it runs me mad.

I wanted just a simple touch.

Not the scratching you gave me.

You little devils created with the image of man in mind.

But I am precious.

I am,right?

I do not need your stubborn nods.

I am!

Look at my face close enough and you will see the lines.

Every life I have lived.

In the shallowness of my eyes you will see the depths of my Magic.

I have not felt you.

Or you.

Or even you.

And for this I will not pay.

I am not you.

I lost patience with the blue eyed master and his father.

I lost favour in their eyes.

But I lead an army.

I am not like you.

I am not afraid of the names that call me home.

I am not afraid of Love.

Even if it pumps madness and stiffness and anything else with less and less.

Look at me close enough.

You will see what I am.

Nothing like you!

~Koome Manyara~

I Know.

Hello reader. I am sorry for the dirty silence. But, what do you know about beings like me?

Just like the fishes don’t know the waters.

Like the birds don’t know their songs.

Like the plants don’t know the sun.

But it is different, I must know forgiveness.

You should see the lines on my neck,

You should see the bones I’ve tried to open break.

Man!

I tell you, please know.

I have sat with my devil and its angels.

Ha!

Sang and danced with the minions that hold the ribs to the cage.

Is it my fault I lost faith in love, self and other selves?

Back to back I have guarded hoards that ate me away.

At least I know the face.

At least I know what to do and say.

Grab some popcorn the show is about to pop and burn.

Hiding sweetly from my wolves.

Binding away from my secret  fire.

But at least I know.

The dogs can’t touch me and I am head of the wolves.

My mind made of steel and my heart,

Forget about that.

I know the hoards are mine and the little minions too.

About the ribs and the cage just give me space.

About my devil and its angels just watch me balance.

And if you scare I might create a deeper nuance,

You know me less.

I have torn down doors of time with promises made of ties.

I am something you have never seen.

Stars filled in a human body.

Roses placed around my sweet soul.

Thorns from the roses all over my stone organ.

I can tell you stories of mine,

Tell you how I’ve bent time to unbend my burdens.

I can tell you why and when I can come.

I can tell you how hard forgiveness is.

My blades are sharp and my shield stiff.

I am ready for a war that I cannot fight.

Let the butterflies hide in peace!

Let the sails fill with air. Let the ship sail far away.

~Koome Manyara~