Bunguswa Writes.

Cry thy tears into my cup; this that holds our happiness, this that cuddles unthought of sadness- this that forever holds our daily pap. I look into thy eyes and world's dreams fade, washed by two rivers down the drain erasing the future with so much pain, each day sinking deeper into life's facade. But under chills of a frightful morning we rise- to the embrace of unrhymed heartbeats; of a dance that psyches our troubled upstair Streets and braces us for life's elusive price. 'of joy two rivers will flow to a new dawn of rejuvenated glow.  ©Bunguswa Wangila.

Tides of the day have risen;  the western sun is setting, the mild glow of the moon a nuisance in its shinning, I'm cuddled to a stooge, mentally fallen. A journey through a long lone night starts, to reckon with loud silence, piecing fragments of solitude in their dorminance- to a castle of emptiness that hurts. I'm drowning in the bottomless abyss, of thoughts that scare- this that numbs the heart with no care, devoid of the fairy tales of bliss. But a night walker I want to be not, Peace setters retell me a tale worthy to note. © Bunguswa ™.

I know the taste of a retiring sun; and I know how a dying day smells, like lilies of corrupt waters swells- the sun and the day bemourn the faint moon. A tired moon stares on with languid eyes, casting shadows of despair upon condensed souls, in whom disabled life crawls- like warms in freezing summer ice. And When I rise with the midnight silence, to the embrace of the tangible and dense darkness, I let my mind wonder through the blankness of a tormenting sea with no defense. Like the mound reddens by fall of rain, so will my ashes rest in the common urn. © Bunguswa ™

Wednesday 10th, May 2023. I leave Bungoma town at 1000 Hours in a one hour stroll through Lusaka road to sikata. It's 1100 Hours. This is the time I bid goodbye to an acquaintance who had hosted me on the night of 9th, when I was stranded in town. He knows I'm boarding a matatu home. So he bids me farewell and returns to Bungoma town.  It's here that reality and the worry I've harboured the entire night embrace. I have a whole journey ahead of me on foot. Motorbikes hoot as they pass, asking if I'm going their way, without a coin, I nod in disapproval with a faint  smile and remind them I'm just around ain't travelling. I hit the road, a second with a step, minutes with a kilometer. I'm running dry in my chest and throat. My legs feel the exhaustion and pain but I've no chance to rest despite the scorching sun.  In a nutshell, I arrived home at around 7:30 in the evening, wrecked by hunger and fatigue. Ain't doing a poem or a story on...

You'd be back like a thief you said, These are dark days; bewilderment galores, We're deep in the embrace of the snares Drawing in each day's facade And in a cruel embrace of malice, Our smiles are a rejoinder of glaring lies. Could we have killed you in the latter thief? Upsetting calmness that once reigned, And now we've to content with a world scorched, Sunbathing in self-inflicted grief? But each day we relight the fire Conscious of ramifications so dire. Which way, dear God, Is the path to thy throne? In the quest for a lost star, or created femine, Or by the slasher of the SERVANTS'° guard? Look our way and wipe our tears Resuscitate us to overcome these fears. Has inadequacy of heavenly tears denied us pure water? Casting us on transit to the ocean to god of the rising tide to offer our confession and look upto dear heaven for laughter? Which way, dear God, off our shoulder unburden this load. Which ways should we loathe, for jesus° now sojourns i...

We've scaled up the mountain of hope, Oblivious of the rain and mad slides. Optimism has had us lock out shreds of doubt Building castles of expectations Against the reverses of ordinary achievements Based on our wind written scripts. And every second the wind changes direction  Every minute the south westerly rivals the easterly, Leaving us in utter bewilderment To battle a monster we've created in our minds.  Every hour we slide down the mountain Everyday our beautiful castles are reduced to rabbles And we keep inching to the noose For earth still reddens at the sun's glow And the heavenly tears, So does the ashes rest in the common urn. ©Bunguswa™

Crickets incessantly whispered through the night- In hashed tones, tired of lone long night.  Night tenderly embraced darkness, And gently strode; lazily, unconcerned, arm in arm, Through to chills of a frowning morning. The skies still cried, And tears tore through the dense dark blanket. Birds mumbled in their nests Unable to bask in the morning glory- That oft° beckoned an expectant day. We'd cursed and troubled deaf heavens so long, And now ears were a heaven's blessing, But blind like a day time bat.  No more smiles It trickled on Tears of the sun. © Bunguswa ™