I will not be
subdued.
Cages don't suit me.
I have to be free.
Fly
run
sing
dance in the
open fields, swim
in the river with
the fish and water snakes.
My soul can't be
taken without my permission.
The access is denied.
My heart isn't yours to
mock and ****.
I will rise like
the phoenix from
the ashes and sail on against
the azure sky, free and
untethered.
Resurrected
I'm back from the dead.

It was something you never did
it was something you always did

God rest my soul
Because you never did

I learned to drink
Because you never did
Never defined the moment
Because you always did

God rest my soul
Simply put
I knew you would
Because you never did

Oh you enjoyed the fall
You loved it all

God rest my soul
Because you never did

Without mobiles  computers, Facebook, X,WhatsApp  were the best,
We had books and each other.
My aunt was a great story teller,
Our house was where all the gatherings took place,
All my aunts, cousins ,my mum and us three sisters,would gather in the living with the storyteller in the middle,
And she would narrate thrillers, classics and Rom.com,,
She had a way with narration that kept us enthralled.
Mombasa, Kenya is a coastal town with many Muslim communities,
At that time many families were orthodox and ladies were not allowed to go to theatres,
So the cinema owners kept Ladies Show once a week,,
And all of us eagerly waited for that day,
Ladies shows were fully packed cause those ladies got to have an outing.
Then there was a Drive-In - Cinema where you went in a car and watched movies,
It was fun,
We had dinner during interval with snacks like samosas bahjias and mix and in between we munched popcorn with roasted peanuts,
Try Coca-Cola  with peanuts dipped in it,
My favourite snack,
We carried all the food with us,
Even in theatres you were allowed to carry your own snacks.
We had friends in school,
But going to hotels,picnics and movies we never needed outside friends,
We swere so many of us cousins of almost same age and though we lived separately we always lived as one big family,
Sometimes girls and boys playing cricket,seven stones,marbles and hide and seek,
The cricket bat was hand made by us from wood,
And the stumps were lines drawn in charcoal on the wall of a house,
Neighbours never complained,
Or girls and girls playing skipping ropes, made up games like doctor doctor and father mother and baby,
Boys played wrestling and police police,
We all played after school in alleys outside our home,
Somebody had found a big drum and a long plank of wood,
We played seesaw on it,
We rarely had homework.
27/5/2025

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Arthur Benjamin Franklin: my Unca Artie, my favorite. A High School football star, known as Red Franklin, he was famous for his dark red hair.  He used to chuck me into deep water at Chrystal Pool to terrify me for 5 seconds, then hoist me onto his broad shoulders.I suspect I was his favorite too.  War came and he had to go.  I cried and cried on the herringbone patterned bricks at the train depot in Kelso. I have a v-mail he sent to my mom, his sister, dated 1942.  He was a belly gunner on the B-17’s that  were flying the area where Rommel was fighting.  He brought my sis and I back little leather suitcases, tooled in wonderful designs by a skilled artist somewhere in the orient. I still have it.  A treasure.

Grover Cleveland Franklin: My suave uncle, joined the Navy in WWII and became a deep sea diver. The kind that wore those heavy suits with the big glass bubble head.  He helped detect and destroy mines around battleships.  In doing that brave work he lost his hearing and came home as a lip reader for most of my childhood. I was always  a bit suspicious because he seemed to read lips so well. He even got written up in the newspaper because he could sing while putting his hands on a phonograph and feeling the vibrations of the music he couldn’t hear. We kids would always try to make loud noise behind him but he never once reacted to it.
Many years later I learned that he confessed that his hearing had gradually came back.  He was a hero nevertheless.

About their names: Both being born in North Carolina, back in the 1920’s it was common practice among the country folk to name sons after famous people.  I also have another distant relative named George Washington Franklin. I love having hillbilly DNA.

pick one out of billions
and stick to it
like spider bait
in the spider web

although you never know
when you’re caught
until it’s too late
and you’re in
too deep

the heart fills
with betrayal
and deception
or worse
the heart fills
with truth
when our beliefs
are based on lies

it’s hard to comprehend
and/or overcome

the ego gets scratched
or the connection
gets snipped

and finally,
a plumage of misconceptions
is what we’re deduced to:

that something is lost
that something has failed

but when the perspective
is turned upside down
and the lens adjusts itself

it reveals that something
is gained and/or returned

and this time
with a fresh start,
a new beginning,
a better outlook

maybe a lesson can be learned?
maybe a mistake can be avoided
by it’s reoccurrence?

maybe?

but listen,
I’m no love guru,
couples therapist,
marriage counselor
or divorce attorney

I can only guarantee that
there is another pair of
sweaty meat sacks
encased in decaying flesh
waiting for you
somewhere out there,
aching to ruin your life
all over again.

I’ve been at the helm on a rudderless ship
lost in a mercurial sea of deficiency
I could fly by the sit of my pants
with a suitcase already packed
on any given day
at any given time
at any given place
I was where I wanted to be
seeing who I wanted to see
doing what I wanted to do
despite my responsibilities as a father
or having to face the daunting tasks
that appeased my current girlfriend(s).
having no structure and no plan,
life was a timeline of formidable prospects.
I rather enjoyed it
quite nicely.

“I look at you,” he told me, “and I think to myself; now here’s a guy whose got it all: he’s over fed, has a nice watch on his wrist and his shoes, although not my style, are brand new. The only thing he doesn’t have are troubles and worries.”

“bartender,” I shouted, “I’ll take one more and the tab.”

“hey man what about me,” he asked, “mind topping me off?”

“and another one for the poor sap next to me.”

“you see what I mean,” he continued. “you can afford to buy drinks for yourself and for others. as for myself, they forced me into a war I didn’t support and I also got my *** shot off for a cause unknown. I was stripped of my emotions, gutted from my life, they sodomized my psyche, carved the dream out of my head and I was never given a chance at having children or a future. and all this happened before I ever held a beer or tasted a cigarette or had a woman in my bed.”

I didn’t bother responding
in hopes that he’d get the hint
but as expected, he was as
clueless as my ex-wife
and as he carried on
with relentless persistency
each word dug in like a cat scratch
and all I could do was clench my glass tighter and tighter to contain myself.

“I’ve been spit on, kicked out, beat up and let down,” he further continued. “the streets are hard and unkind and everywhere you go you’re unwanted and everything is locked. why do you think I pour into these bars late at night? to drink? naw man, I just need a place to go, a roof over my head you know?”

that was it.
I had enough.

I finished my drink,
got off the stool
and headed toward the exit.

“hey buddy,” he shouted, “can I get another one for the road?”

“no.”

“just one more?”

“NO!” I screamed.

“c’mon man, you’ve got everything and I’ve got nothing. what makes you better than anyone else?”

“now look here you bumbling idiot…”

“but…but…but…” he interrupted.

“I’ve heard your tales of woe and now you’re going to listen to me,” I said sternly. “I look overfed because of poor diet and lack of exercise caused by working 60-80 hours a week with no time to take care of myself. I have a nice watch and new shoes but it came with a price. I’ve traded in my freedom for comfort, my time for materials and any chance of love for success. you say I have everything and you have nothing? I say you’re wrong. you’ve got something I no longer possess and that my friend is soul. don’t lose that. don’t buy into the mold. don’t conform. don’t become like everyone else. most of the people you see in here have imprisoned themselves into their own personal hell. that’s the way society wants it. but you’re free. truly free. and another thing… don’t worry about sorrow. everyone’s got problems and nobody wants to hear about it. why do you think people are in here? for the enjoyment? no, there here to forget. just. like. you.”

“******* *******! I don’t need a lecture from you or your cheap advice. all I need is a ******* drink!”

…and with that,
I walked out into the
dark and empty streets
where they greeted me
with their silence.