HollyIvanPoetry

Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding places.

The kitchen is my place. A serene locale for me to stay, I serenade with the perfumes it wears Together we dip the onions to feed the nose. The kitchen is a darling in bed, It caresses my tummy whenever I need. Cuddling through the gullet we pass, And down the stomach we make our love. The kitchen is my place. Be it lunch, supper or break. I depend on it like a parasite, Sucking it's gallery in stock. The kitchen is a real friend indeed. It wipes away the tears when you cry. And when the hunger beatings are severe, It is always ready to give me a massage.

      A heavy wind was blowing from the Northern direction to the South. The trees swayed like they would fall the next minute. The leaves of a Muhuyu tree under which a village committee sat fell like the heavy rains of the 1997. The sun high in sky was tough like a hungry Lion in a zoo. The committee had coverged to chew a word about Mr Mulogo who had become a dangerous disease to the indigenous people. He had now erected a house in the middle of the path that led to the only well where people got water. And announced that no one should pass via his land. This had angered the locals provoking them to scribble a letter to the village chairperson. In a few days to come he was to set up a one thousand meter perimeter wall that would see the well off the eyes of the natives.        Mr Mulogo was a rich man who had gathered a big sum of paper. When he came to Muhula village,he had exchanged his paper for land with the frustrated villagers who saw life as a balloon in the air about to fal

Without thought exiled from passion days spent distraught. Living with a life-less fushion it doesn't burn. I don't know what is real, Life doesn't always take the right turn. It lacks the right feel The cold seeping through the window sill Oh the burn in my fingers, do it I cry Or just take a damn pill, When people say their okay, it's really just a bitter lie.

When you lay on your your back and watch the clouds walk. Blue and white with a darkness in them. Seeing different shapes of nature mapped on the sky. And your eyes crawl around the globe of your thought, Then they cast a glance on a girl that you fancied making you reminisce the times you had. Lethargic you feel for a moment, And your eyes get wet in a minute. The feeling of a love you lost in the evening. Dangling on your mind for a lifetime.

I'm so fake sometimes I'm a loose ass opening my secrets to everyone I find. I have become a laughing stock For every tattered mouth Undressing my skin, Everytime I walk. "He is a sheep walking without destination" I hear the fading sound. As I erect my ears to direction of the moving wind. I try as much to refrain from what I hear but it's piercing. The speed at which these words cum is so terrible. But I blame my self for not tightening the buttocks.