Dream Inertia

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(Author’s Note: This is a series of poems that deals with stalled dreams, deconstructed artists, a mosaic of life that kills art, and formalizes artists into the leviathan. It also deals with the trade off of artists being less for more cheques.)


It was better
Whiled we waited
Something to look forward to
By hope, we were baited
Promises of youth
Dashed in time
And yet wisdom wasn’t gained
Only pay checks,
What a crime.

You, you, eh

You dig out my eyes
Then ask me to read
With no sight
Still the vision I plead
My case before the throne
Justice indeed
Accuser, judge and jailer
At sea on this earth
Time made me a sailor
Troubled waters in deep
Mother waste not your tears
Smile for me, try not to weep
I was a child of the future
Still born to the present
I thought in darkness
Heaven sent is the crescent
I leave you not much
Except my laughter as keepsake
A lot they did
The comedy of truth
They can’t break


Life today,
Make of it what you may
As long as you make it
Inner child slay
Living on on sarcasm and I wonder why mother still prays
Only wet hay
Needs the sun
Sons of cocoon comforts
Ships that know no new ports
Condos and lofts
Tediously bored oft
New highs mortgaged to
Then wander why the butterfly flew
It’s the child we threw
The birth water all grew
Foul, staining life
In this wasteland of silhouette egos
Deaths seeks his wife.


What’s stopping you?
Me, nothing…
Merely blissful inertia…
Borne of my meagre comforts
To risk and adventure
My heart has no hots
Great discoverers in time
Built great forts
To keep what in?
A paradise of sorts?
It is well thought,
That you can’t bottle wildness
Even cage it,
Of it, Polaroids make a poor witness


What is yet left?
With the white flag
My honour will go…..
I am no Samurai
What honour is there
In poverty in a third world country?
How can my beliefs
Make sufficient my paltry
When was the last time
My only child had decent pastry?
How can I deny
Those innocent eyes
What shame is there
If my ideals die
Chocked elegantly
By the only reality
Po, take me.


In the end,
Deep in the depraved slums,
Desperation and love,
Were the only two, not shams
As my hopes
Lay rotting beside me
A beauty even decay
Couldn’t deny me
Rheumatic coughing
I am still defiant to giving in
Shunned and ostracized
There is still serenity within
I am not my disease……


Dark glasses, can’t see my future
Tears in my eyes
Dead wood to make corrupt furniture
Pay me for my lies
The truth ain’t profitable
Ancestral lands not arable
Fortuna rolls the dice
The rich kids can gamble
Poverty and trouble
As your hopes and dreams crumble
Bleak is the colour
A mosaic of pain and neglect
Who wants to be 40 and in regret
Who wants to be 40 and a reject?
Art has its owners
Artists aren’t them
Pay checks hide the shame
Oh, what’s my name?
What my benefactor says it is….
Torture became bliss
Eve ignored the hiss
Why shouldn’t i?
Mine is mine, oh my
I just want a marble headstone
When I die,
Bread crumbs don’t pay for such.


I could lie
Pretend that this pain makes me stronger
Pretend, that I don’t count sheep in bed
Wondering how much longer
Till my head stops still
My heart grows new feels
I could lie
That my demons don’t intoxicate me
Dancing in pitch darkness
Being Jekyll frees me
Playing soul frisbee
When a bee
No loungers gathers nectar
Buzzing stuck in tar
Finally a star
But on a night of dark clouds and tall shadows
Sick to the marrow
Cursing the eventuality of the ‘morrow
This is beyond
Where the squirrels barrow
A pillar of salt
Gazing at the past
Salt of the earth
Snow season, to the road fast



What do you do
When the fish don’t bite
The tides run high
Darkness hugs the night
Boat rocking violently
Dancing to the furious waves
Nam Lolwe majestic in pride
Dishing out the shakes
Made men fortunes
Then took their lives
Gave men wet dreams
Seduced away their wives
It’s never about the fish
There’s plenty of that in the sea
It’s swimming against the tides
When it’s water as far as the eyes can see
Fishers’ of men
With the nets it set us free


I have been running
Running all my life
Running into trouble
Running into my rubble
From my memories past
No matter how fast
I still run into hurt
Running out of luck
Stumbling and falling
Finding my way in the dark
Chasing love
Running circles around my heart
Fleet footed
Running with gumption
Running out of options
Running out of time
With hope running low
As far as my running goes
The race track never shows
But any time I try and stop
It gets enticingly steep

don gotti© Roy Mwamba alias Teflon Don Blunts/Don Gotti

Facebook :          Teflon Don Blunts
Twitter:                @DonGotti
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Email:                    roymwambah@gmail.com

[PHOTO CREDIT: Allan Gichigi, Capture Kenya 2014]


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Poet, Rapper, Writer

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