Muthure's Place - Demons, Time and Second chances

Before the beginning and after the end,
Father Time did not exist.
The beginning was the end
And the end turned out to be the beginning;
Of something new.
Something unnamable.
For in a timeless vortex
Names prove irrelevant and purposeless.
The event was not in the past.
It is neither happening
Nor going to.
It is in a timeless sphere.
If you stand still you hear
The song of Silence
See godly Darkness
And feel the movement of Love and Tranquility.
In this unending abyss
Angels and demons coexist
Day and night seem to merge
Water and wind with no disparate difference
Good and evil essentially one.

Inevitably there was a fall.
An error.
One blunder in this near faultless realm.
The gates are closed
All accesses sealed
The fine line between in and out
Is suddenly magnified
And the difference is preposterously large.

The blinders fall to the ground
The bare truth like lead
A burden too heavy to bear.
Improvise-
Alter the truth.
Retreat-
Run away from the truth.
Ignore-
Disregard the truth.
Bury it until it fades into oblivion.
Teach the generations to come that there’s no truth
That it doesn’t exist.
Or make them fear it.

When dark sets in
And shadows are cast
Laughter becomes hollow
And conversation takes a life of its own.
Whispers carry clearly in the motionless air
And blackness reveals things otherwise veiled;
That under layers of intelligent foolishness
Falsified truths
Wicked morality
And tarnished purity,
Are our Thoughts searching,
Desperately, furiously, for a foothold
And the almost solid darkness provides none.

Demons need not look for ambiguity
In order to fool the (self-declared) intellectual.
They need only a solitary soul
One exploring the realm of “self-discovery”
And experimenting with independence.

The past and future point to the present
And because Time is concurrent,
All time is irredeemable.

The world is now in perpetual motion,
The song not to be heard.
Darkness conducive for only evil, thieves and witches.
Quietness confused for Peace,
Love phased out by Perversion.
Father Time -a ruthless dictator- controls everything.
The Present [the only compromise between Past and Future]
Remains forever unsatisfactory,
Time itself a worthless pit of nothingness.

The beginning was the end
And the end is just that
Preventing attempts at reparation for that one blunder,
Intolerant of second chances.
In a timeless vacuum lies the tapestry
Of the beautiful, imperfect patchwork
That forms the quilt that envelops us all.
We see nothing.
We feel nothing.
We cannot hear the playful whispers
Of the greatest story never told.

Joy Muthure

Muthure's Place - Superhero loving

We.. are..

Kissin’ ears, licking elbows, sucking face

And blowing each other off.

I taste you...

Breathe you in and smell your fingers.

I see stars and look for the sun,

Not realising that they’re both... light.

A friend told me to explore and discover my darks side with a flashlight,

But with the..

Ghosts under my bed, skeletons in my closet, monsters hidden under my pile of dirty laundry??

THAT doesn’t seem.. like such.. a good...

Idea.

Yet you manage to crawl into my secret places, private spaces, see my hidden faces.

I was.. holding out for a hero

but his underpants were too tight, not enough circulation.

He was rushed to the ER,

Just called.. to let me know.. that he wouldn’t make it.

But I wait.

Listening to you and hearing fate.

I... see the light above your left shoulder.

You... are.

Light.

Wind.

Earth....

Motion.

You.. turn my swag on.

I carry you in my eyes.

And on my shoulders and you help me lift that heavy burden up there sometimes

With your heavy luggage down THERE...

So i decide to put my phone off,

Don't need to be hearin' from false heroes and their recovering balls..

YOU do more for ME than the whole justice league ever could anyway.

Looking at you now my thoughts.... stumble.

Trippin over common sense and all things rational, freefallinandfinallylandinginthewarmembraceoflove...

And lust.

Make that a hot embrace.

I s-s-s-s-s-s-stutter over my words and your soft, silent, patient stare

Makes me find my tongue.

I whisper a truth.

What seem to be the only truth I know right now...

‘YOU, fallen angel, are MY superman.’

Joy Muthure

Muthure's Place - Depression

She tells me she’s depressed. 
She says life is a waste of time. 

She cries to me with tears in her eyes about the injustice of it all. 

She talks about her Struggle 

Her Fight 

Her… Demon. 

The one that has no horns 

No tail 

And is not red. 

He’s fly… with that effect. 

You know, the one that gets you high? 

Not the I-seriously-can’t-see-anything-clearly high, 

More like the Oh-my-goodness-I-never-thought-I-could-see-such-beauty-without-my-eyes high. 

He’s not the If-at-first-you-don’t-succeed-brush-yourself-off-and-try-again type of guy. 

More like the I’m-so-damn-smooth-and-I-know-you-know-it-so-why-pretend-you-don’t-love-it-ma? type. 

Lauryn’s Mr. Intentional 

The sweet-talking, confident-walking, not-into-stalking UNLESS he’s on the receiving end guy. 

That devil-on-your-shoulder-with-that-deep-voice-to-die-for-telling-you-to-just-eat-that-chocolate-only-just-after-you’ve-resolve-to-lose-those-hips 

Then-complain-about-your-‘60-kg-ass’-when-you-tell-him-you-can’t-fit-into-that-little-dress-he-likes-when-he-asks-why-you-aren’t-wearing-it. 

That demon. 

She says she’s depressed and doesn’t know why. 

She tells me she’s possessed 

By a demon 

That knows nothing and at the same time everything about her. 

A demon 

So small it could pass unnoticed if you didn’t know it existed 

But large enough to block out the sunlight filtering through the windows to her soul. 

She tells me she’s cold inside 

But that she’s got the hots for the Demon. 

She says she thinks the Demon is taking over her brain, 

Making her one of those cannot-be-seen-dead-in-one-of-those-sweaters ladies 

Or worse still, she says, one of those my-tiny-tiny-clothes-just-happen-to-have-a-higher-IQ-than-my-even-more-mini-brain type women. 

She says she doesn’t like it. 

She tells me she wants the Demon exorcised 

And says she’s heard about a good priest 

That doesn’t charge too much for that kind of thing, you know? 

Problem is; 

Apparently her Demon goes to church. 

She tells me she’s depressed 

And I tell her to shut it.

Joy Muthure

Muthure's Place - Poem to Self

I look into the mirror with you

Every morning.

I see the image;

Hard hair,

Face all nose and forehead,

Full, bushy eyebrows,

Only one dimpled cheek.

Tongue, pink and lovely.

You fold and curve and run it along

The inside of your mouth when in deep thought.

Firm imprint of your molars on its sides

From all the years of biting down on it in deep sleep.

You curse it sometimes

For being an instrument

In the orchestra of hurtful and selfish words,

Tumbling out and rolling over those lips.

Lips that turn upward ever-so-slightly only sometimes,

But more often than that

Open to reveal

The reason you refused to go to school one day

In nursery school if not ‘fixed’ immediately-

Inexplicable small dents on the four front lower teeth.

I take it in everyday,

I can draw it all blind-folded.

I know your body.

Birth mark below left knee,

Beauty spot on right foot,

Stretch-marked bottom,

Masculine hands,

Toned legs,

Short, fat toes,

Slight curve of belly,

Breasts larger than you desire.

And the scars…

Shadow of a few stitches on your right palm,

Tick-shaped scratch on your left shin,

And more.

As if your childhood memories,

Afraid of being forgotten,

Etched themselves in your flesh.

And it’s difficult to,

When they’ve left a playful map on your skin.

Skin that’s smooth for the most part,

Not chocolate but not quite toffee either.

Something in between perhaps.

I’m slowly learning to appreciate it all.

I know your dreams.

Outrageous.

Silly.

Lofty and impractical,

Delicately rooted in your every thought.

I want to let you know

That it’s okay to dream.

It’s okay to be ambitious.

And that sometimes

You should speak them aloud

Because not everyone will ridicule you,

And that you’ll be braver for it.

I’ve touched your heart.

I alone know its temperatures.

Its intentions.

All its different colours.

I’ve watched you try walk away from it,

And in turn felt it go cold,

The only sign

That lets me know

We’re expecting some sort of blow soon.

Sometimes it opens up wide though

And I’m left in awe.

I watch it smile occasionally,

The sight of which has never failed to move me

All these years later.

Once in a while I feel a deep tremble,

The definition of a hearty laugh.

And it’s then you really let go.

I’ve felt it love.

I’ve seen it shatter.

I held it up for you when you couldn’t bring yourself to.

I’m here to tell you all this will happen again.

I want you to understand.

That you will love again.

And you will break again.

And that it’s okay.

I must say,

I don’t quite like

This strange tenant in your cartilage and tissue,

Making your joints creak so loud sometimes

It jolts me.

Crook of elbow;

Fit to hold a child,

Mind and body not ready to believe

You’ll ever hold one of your own.

Bend of knee;

Moving with every step you take,

Walking towards destruction at times,

Running from the world at others,

Once in a while just managing crawling to safety,

But always moving all the same.

Crack of knuckles;

Perpetually trying to find... ways,

Words to put down

To try keep track of marathon-running thoughts.

Spinning ideas.

And never quite catching up.

Many long, wakeful and restless nights have past,

And I’ve been your only company.

The only one you told your nightmares.

I’m the interpreter of them all,

And sometimes I may have been wrong.

I apologise.

I do my best though, to let them not haunt you.

I try to make your dreams nice.

Make them wonderful,

Just to have you wake up with a smile so subtle,

Even you don’t know about it.

But you feel it.

That distinct tiny little warm glow you can’t explain,

Making you want to listen to that specific playlist.

I know most of the songs off the top of my head..

Let’s just say

I’ve studied you.

That I know you.

And I realise that I’ll still never know enough.

This isn’t to inform you of anything really,

Because you know just as much as I do.

It’s to remind you of things you forget.

It’s to try to calm your sometimes too impatient soul,

To make you take time to look and not just see.

It’s to touch you in places you’ve neglected in a while.

It’s to kiss you.

It’s to converse with you,

We hadn’t spoken in a while.

It’s to try make you understand,

That I quite simply... love you.

Sometimes without good reason,

But I love you all the same.

And to let you know that I’ll be watching you...

Joy Muthure

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I am female and in my mid-20s. Sometimes I dabble in writing, from prose to pieces penned to be spoken out loud. A few of my other interests include: [reading] literature, music, laughing, listening, loving and living (I am a big fan of life in general). I am intrigued by animals -ourselves included- thus my background in Zoology. Some of my “lofty” dreams consist of trying to bring ecosystem health to a balance, through improving the health of humans, animals and the environment they share. To this end I studied One Health (do look it up, you [probably] won’t be disappointed that you did!). I am an East African local with what I hope to be the mentality of a global citizen. I’m all about connectivity, and tend not to see things in isolation so feel free to connect with me!

Joy Muthure

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Miss Joy Muthure will share with us her writings and thoughts regularly on Muthure’s Place, every month, here at Opina. Hope you enJoy!

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