I Become: Experimentation

I was, I will be, I am… as a human being, the most powerful thing we have at our disposal is the ability to tell stories, and the tools to do so… Language, technology, creativity… These have borne and advanced civilisations; nations; political, social, economic orderings; and so on. At the individual level, we are more or less bound by what we allow ourselves to be.

My wings unfurl, tease the winds… at whatever level you are in life, it is importance to exercise your skills and talents, that way, you will be able to progress in life. This way, you give wings to your dreams to become a person of value to yourself and to others.

Promises, they take life in deeds, in doubts… Once you make a promise to yourself to rise up above your current circumstances, it follows that you have to take action. And action you must take, in fear and in doubts, for at times – as the adage goes, showing up is half the battle won.

Pirates, this life needs adventure… the process is the becoming, and you might as well as enjoy it. This as life’s only guarantees are death and taxes.

Bland turn to colour… living means attempting different things… a new lover, a new business, a new job, learning a new skill, moving to a different area or country… Again, we have the advantage of another adage, ‘variety is the spice of life’. In short, don’t be boring by existing instead of living, surviving instead of thriving!

In dreams I, in deeds I… Hence was this experimental video imagined and executed. It is not perfect, but let me live you with the last adage, ‘Practice makes perfect.’ Kindly like, share and subscribe. Thank you! (And don’t forget to live while at it as above smiley emoji)

The link to the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxGggV_-0v0&t=8s

(Get my short stories collection at: https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/ )

Comments

#20BobSanaa

With a heavy heart, having cried my heart out, I let go. Of these dear books with many a memory. This to support my book launches. Gladden, though, for they are on offer for as low as Kshs 20 – 20bob (exclusive of delivery costs): 1. Betrayal in The City 320 2. Paper Doll 320 3. Royal Scandals 320 4. Poems from East Africa 320 5. Mimba Ingali Mimba 220 6. Half a Day and Other Stories 120 7. Kitumbua Kimeingia Mchanga 320 8. Walenisi 420 9. Horn of My Love 220 10. Mayai Waziri wa Maradhi 120 11. Brisinger 520 12. Cabal 320 13. The Patriot Game 320 14. The Resurre...

Remembrances

Soft faces in tender places, I remember Shy lips and high hips, cold, the embers Soft skin and what could have been Echoes of stillness, in my labour, I have seen. Dotted noses and eyes brows, I have kissed In the throes of passion, questions missed Loved etched, sketched and drenched Here now I stand, on the world’s edge. It is a warm, fuzzy August night, as some books say. Mice scurry about, fat cats on their tails’ ends. I guess this is still so in one of your many books. Anyway, them books have squeezed me out of your heart and mind. Surely strange, but to love you in one still world is impossible when you live in so many. I am sure, too, that there is a pretty poem that says what’s in my heart about our situation. Adios. Feverish nights, grey nights, my dreams are possessed Yet, come morning, the old hauntings are to be dispensed The day is come, revealing the world as it is – boring I long for dusk, then I can pirate to adventure – roaring. It is a holiday. I am in ...

Gossip this morning

I heard this morning, that… The price of unga, is about to go up I heard this morning, that the price of unga, is coming down I heard this morning, that the government, it has banned, unga Perhaps, the speaker meant, burnt Either way, our bellies, they burn Some, of hunger Others, belly full. I heard mid-morning, that, oil, is scarce Or, for cars, the speaker, he mumbled about. I heard mid-morning, that, he has passed us Or, the pastor, is us The messiah, he plays games. I heard in the afternoon, the government, is broke The weather, out of order The war, just In my afternoon, there was no peace. In the evening, I held counsel My ears, blocked with wax My eyes, blinded in tears My tongues, stilled in fury These things, they are not for me Screams of - baby Isak Shrieks of - Fatuma Howls of – Abdi Bombs, play toys Up above, silver streaks The rain, violent For a Utopia, the soldier man.

Upya Fresh

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