In Kelvin's masterful hands, you will be taken on a journey you won't want to end. Even as you turn the last page of this unforgettable yearn. So join me on a journey where there are no cul~de~sacs,non-stop signs, no dead ends.
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Last Seen Tumblr Blogs
Fun Fact
The “We are the 99%” Tumblr blog became the slogan for the Occupy Wall Street movement.
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Outdated machinery
She used to love vending machine - me
Tokens of affection Flickering in fluorescent light Shining silvery
Same order, every time, E33 And I’d hand over what she wanted All the way until depletion
I don’t know where she’d then go When she would leave
For a month ( Sometimes two ) ( Sometimes three )
But she must have loved Vending machine - me
Small change is rare these days At least, that’s what she told me
( Maybe that is what I chose to believe )
Tokens of affection Flickering in fluorescent light Shining silvery
E33, E33, E33, E33
Until one day I tried to give her more And everything came crashing down E33 got stuck inside, and –
I blamed A79
She left For good that time
I didn’t know why Till I got opened up after a while
A man shook his head; every coin, fortified
And before he snatched the power cord To take me away and have me modernized I heard him fulminating, calling me
‘Dumb old machine’
— 5-11-2019, M.A. Tempels © “… down an uninviting hall in an age old hotel.”
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CHOICES
Habari ndugu. Mambo ndio haya. 😕
The sound of waves breaking on the beach, the rustling of palm leaves and crickets merge harmoniously into some sort of wild symphony. She is standing next to you, leaning on the wooden balcony railing. A light on the neighbor’s porch gives the complete contour of her body in silhouette.
The bedside clock reads 12:23 AM. You are at her place. Stark naked. Allowing the salty sea breeze to cool off your body after a steamy session.
She has your shirt on. Unbuttoned, nothing else underneath. Her hair is messed up giving her this untamed look. The shirt flaps in the wind revealing a curvaceous physique, shapely derriere & long sexy legs. It reminds you of your bulging waistline. You suck in your tummy to make it appear flat.
You walk up to her. Hug her from behind. She turns around. Those big lovely eyes lock with yours. Looking into her eyes is like watching the grand Spiral Galaxy. Millions of bright stars caught up in a gravitational swirl of spiral arms orbiting about the center. Picturesque. You want to freeze this moment for eternity.
She closes her eyes, stands on her toes and tilts her chin upwards. You cup her face and draw her into a long passionate kiss. Lost into each other’s mouths you lose a sense of time. All you can think of is her long nails making patterns on your back, sending strange electrical impulses down your spine.
Suddenly, she pulls away. Her beautiful smile fades away. It is replaced with a face full of worry. Crow feet in her eyes become more pronounced. Your brain goes over-drive trying to identify what could have caused the drastic change in mood.
“What’s wrong?”
Her lips quiver but no words come out. After struggling for awhile she finds her tongue.
“I love you!”
The declaration catches you by surprise. You quickly mumble ‘me too’ then go for her lips in a bid to distract her. She stops you midway, her index finger on your lips.
“What do you love about me?”
Your heart beats faster. Cold sweat trickles down your back. You can’t tell whether it’s due to the humidity or her unwavering gaze. Why would she even ask that?
“From the very first moment I laid my eyes on you I knew we were destined to be together. You are intelligent, assertive, caring, beautiful and definitely irresistible. I feel like I can confide in you all my deepest secrets without worrying that you might use them against me.”
She throws her arms around your neck and hugs you so tightly that you can barely breathe. If only she knew that’s exactly what you tell every woman.
Someone watching from a distance would easily think the two of you are deeply in love or even soulmates. The truth is you just met tonight. Actually, you don’t even know her second name.
Earlier that evening, you went to this cool bar right on the beach looking to catch up with an old friend. This was after a day full of meetings with potential partners in the Kenyan south coast where you are looking to set up a new business.
Bar on the beach Bidi Badu Diani Kenya
The joint has a grungy feel. Wooden seats and tables under a thatched shed on the beach. A stage, and bar on opposite ends. The crowd consists of mostly young tourists. A couple of pretty lasses throw you inviting glances. You can feel it in your bones that tonight is going to be amazing.
Then you notice her perched on a bar stool nursing a cold tusker. She is staring back at you. There is something about women who take beer directly from the bottle. They are unpretentious. However, her face is devoid of emotion. You can’t tell whether she is interested or simply curious.
You choose to ignore her instead pay attention to the band on stage playing No woman, No Cry by Bob Marley. Live music especially reggae always moves you. You are so engrossed with the performance that you don’t see her walking up to your table until you feel her palm on your shoulder.
“Hey, can I join you?”
This catches you completely by surprise though you try hard to hide it.
“Yeah…yes…sure.”
She sits next to you, her hips gently grazing yours. Your buddy excuses himself and approaches some lady on the next table.
The mysterious lady signals a waiter.
“Another beer plus whatever he is having.”
You are used to making the first move so this feels quite strange.
She is sporting Dora hairstyle, a black blouse buttoned all the way to the top, long earrings and hot pants. Or is it Ankara shorts? You can’t tell the difference. What piques your interest the most is the powerful aura around her. Every pore on her skin oozes with alluring confidence. It’s like she is used to getting everything she wants. A she-devil.
“I’m Kelvin…. Kelvin Samora .”
“I’m Linda… Just Linda.”
You both chuckle.
“Do you have to say both names?”
“Not really, I just like how it sounds.”
“So what do you do Mr. Kelvin Samora ?”
“I am a storyteller.”
“Journalist?”
“No, blogger.”
“I hate bloggers all they do is spread malicious rumors!”
“Well, I’m one of the good ones… Enough about me, let’s talk about you.”
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“Firstly, are you a criminal planning to spike my drink, rob me then toss my unconscious body into the ocean?”
She bursts out laughing surreptitiously placing her hand on your thigh.
“Would I really tell you that if indeed that was my intention?”
“I don’t know, is it?”
“ No, I came over because I find you attractive.”
The conversation shifts to the weather, coolest tourist spots around and finally about her life.
She heads an NGO that rescues young girls forced into prostitution mostly by their parents. Throws in stats on sex tourism while telling you some of the shocking things she has witnessed in her line of work.
She divulges intimate details about her love life. How her fiancé whom she is set to marry in May is always away, traveling on business. He spoils her with expensive gifts and treats but hardly spends time with her, which greatly contributes to her loneliness.
You hate playing Dr. Phil especially to a lady you find attractive. However, it feels like she needs someone to open up to so you urge her to spill more. She blathers on and on for minutes. You simply nod and smile in silence.
“Do you want to go home with me?”
“Uhm ..what?”
Didn’t she confess to having a boyfriend?
“How about we take this to my place?”
Uneasy silence.
“What about your boyfriend?”
“Don’t worry he is out of town for a couple of days.”
You mull over it for a moment. She doesn’t look like a hooker plus you are set to head back to Nairobi the next morning. What could possibly go wrong?
Her place is about three kilometers away from the bar. As you pull up next to a black gate she stuffs a packet of Durex in your shirt pocket.
“You will need these.”
She lives in a gated community with one main entrance and smaller gates to individual compounds surrounded by a 6-feet thorny fence. The house architecture is Swahili inspired.There is an Africa-shaped swimming pool right outside her house, a seat and a dining table set for six.
“You have a beautiful home.”
“Thanks, wait until you see the bedroom.” She winks at you.
She leads you upstairs. Her bedroom occupies the entire floor. A queen size bed is on one end, a coffee table and seats in the middle, a dressing table, walk-in closet and a treadmill next to the shower cubicle. The French windows next to the bed open to the balcony.
There is a framed picture of Linda and some muscular guy on the table. She quickly puts it away on realizing you were looking at it. If only the poor guy knew what his woman was up to tonight.
“I am heading to the shower, do you want to join me?”
She drags you back to the present.
“Go ahead, I will join you in a few.”
She drops the shirt on the floor and sashays to the shower. She turns and beacons you with her index finger, prurient intentions written all over her face, before closing the glass door.
You gaze out into the darkness trying to make out the beach beyond the line of palm trees. A cloud of sadness settles over you. This is your life. Sleeping around with all kinds of women. Your friends envy you. They think you are a stud. What they don’t know is that deep down you are hurting and lonely. You crave for human connection. The endless and meaningless sex doesn’t fill the emptiness. Nothing does. Every time you go out with a new woman it feels exciting. But after the act all you feel is despondency.
The phone buzzing on the table interrupts your chain of thought. You walk over to the table. A phone is lying face up. Her phone. A man with a bushy beard is calling. It is the same guy you saw on her bedside picture. Meanwhile, you hear the creaking of the rusty gate and a car enter the garage. You rush back to the window and look towards the entrance.
A man in a blue suit and black shiny shoes alights from a black sedan. A banquet of red roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in another. He then picks a traveling bag from the back seat and walks up to the house.
At the very same moment, Linda steps out of the bathroom.
“He is here!” You half-whisper.
“Who?”
“Your fiancé!”
“What? You have to go.”
The guy is twice your size. He looks like he could easily strangle two men at the same time or cave a human skull with a single blow. The last thing you want is to end up on the wrong side of those knuckles. Not when your folks back in the village sacrificed everything to make you the man you are today. Escaping is the only safe option.
You quickly put on your pants, grab your phone, keys, and shirt from the floor and dash to the balcony.
The front door is slam shut followed by quick successive steps coming up the stairs.
“Go now!”
She pushes you off the balcony.
You land on your left foot twisting your ankle in the process. Cursing in pain you limp towards the gate only to find out it’s padlocked.
A piercing scream splits the humid air.
“ Mwizi! Mwizi!”
Looking back you see Linda pointing at you. The guy standing next to her jumps off the balcony rolls over the lawn just like in the movies then comes charging at you.
Faced with mortal danger, you climb up the fence and drop on the other side. Jump into your car, hit the ignition button, disengage the footbrake, engage Drive and floor the accelerator all in under 4 seconds.
The car lurches forward gathering speed like a rhino on steroids. From the rear view mirror, you can see Linda tightly wrapped in his arms, right in the middle of the road, sobbing uncontrollably. There is a triumphant look on his face. Perhaps congratulating himself for getting home in time to scare off a dangerous intruder. The knight in shining armor.
You accelerate and make it through the main gate before the overzealous guard drops the barrier. Join the main road and make a hard left turn narrowly escaping a head collision with an oncoming tour van.
After driving for ten minutes you see a well-lit signpost. Welcome To Diani Beach Hospital. That’s when you feel a sharp pain in your abdomen. On looking down you find out that you are covered in blood. Must’ve been the thorny fence and barbed wire.
You stagger into the hospital reception. Your head feels light. The room begins to spin. Your legs give in. You collapse on the floor in a heap. Nurses in tiny white dresses rush towards you. The last image in your mind as you slip into unconsciousness is that of the seductress in hot pants pointing at you.
If only I knew.
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It’s not about how much you care now. It’s about all those years you didn’t care at all.
Too Little, Too Late
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She was beautiful. There was no denying it. But she wasn’t that kind of beautiful that made everyone turn, Or took everyones breath away when she entered the room. Her beauty was hidden, But once you’ve seen it she becomes nothing but beautiful. Shes the kind of beautiful that keeps you up at night, The kind that makes you love every part of her. Some people may not see it, And you know she can’t, But she’s beautiful. Theres no denying it. -A.P
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#CALlIE COME ON#
You weren’t the first to capture my eyes, Or the first to kiss my lips. But you were the first to make me believe in love . The first to cheer my name. The first to see my heart. The first to stay. -CL
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“For You And Your Promises”
#thehurtingwords# 21 March 2017 04:37:19 AM it’s you you leave marks in my body you leave scars to my heart you leave pain in my soul you leave a picture of you in my brain something reminds me of you inside it’s you, i know it’s you the mole in your right cheeks a little scars on your tummy a little red color on your hair your brownie eyes your accent your scent printed on my brain something screaming inside looking for that person who calm the anxious looking for that imperfective person regret and the demon come back to imprison the soul again something bleeding inside but it’s not blood it’s not a liquid i don’t know what it is it keep drips until i drown into the pit of despair and sadness something broken outside the knuckle that keep make a crack sound the thirst of my throat the scream of my tummy you broke every single part that left on me baby, my ears miss that terrible voice and your nagging my eyes miss that cheesy smile and laugh my nose miss that scenf of parfume i gave to you that day my lips miss that mint gum flavor that you chew before you kissed me my hand miss that touch of your delicate hand my shoulder miss that tight hug of yours my chest miss the way you make the heart beat so fast my feet miss the way it should walk everyday to see you my finger miss the way that scissor-rock-paper to decide everything my hair miss the way you caress it every single part of me missing you do you miss me like i miss you? or i am the pathetic one? you still make me happy even if you are the main reason why i’m sad i let you become my happiness and thats where i went wrong because you killed what was left of the good in me. yet i still love you
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FIND THIS GUY
“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep… wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you’re just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky his is to have you…. The one who turns to his friends and says, ‘that’s her.’”
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#Excerpt from a book I'll never write #
Here’s the hard part: you don’t ever stop loving him. You move on and you grow and you change, but it doesn’t ever stop, this feeling. And when you see him five years from now, all uptight in his fancy new job and wearing a suit that makes him look like a big deal, when he smiles in that easy way and says,“Hey, you. It’s been a while,” your stomach will still trip over itself. Your hollow hands will still want to reach out and mess up his tie. His hair. Trace the skin of his back until he sighs. And you’ll still wonder why. Why it didn’t work. Why it couldn’t now. Oh, God. No, you’re never going to stop loving him. Your heart just doesn’t know how. #excerpt from a book I’ll never write# # writing#
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CHOICES
Habari ndugu. Mambo ndio haya. 😕
The sound of waves breaking on the beach, the rustling of palm leaves and crickets merge harmoniously into some sort of wild symphony. She is standing next to you, leaning on the wooden balcony railing. A light on the neighbor’s porch gives the complete contour of her body in silhouette.
The bedside clock reads 12:23 AM. You are at her place. Stark naked. Allowing the salty sea breeze to cool off your body after a steamy session.
She has your shirt on. Unbuttoned, nothing else underneath. Her hair is messed up giving her this untamed look. The shirt flaps in the wind revealing a curvaceous physique, shapely derriere & long sexy legs. It reminds you of your bulging waistline. You suck in your tummy to make it appear flat.
You walk up to her. Hug her from behind. She turns around. Those big lovely eyes lock with yours. Looking into her eyes is like watching the grand Spiral Galaxy. Millions of bright stars caught up in a gravitational swirl of spiral arms orbiting about the center. Picturesque. You want to freeze this moment for eternity.
She closes her eyes, stands on her toes and tilts her chin upwards. You cup her face and draw her into a long passionate kiss. Lost into each other’s mouths you lose a sense of time. All you can think of is her long nails making patterns on your back, sending strange electrical impulses down your spine.
Suddenly, she pulls away. Her beautiful smile fades away. It is replaced with a face full of worry. Crow feet in her eyes become more pronounced. Your brain goes over-drive trying to identify what could have caused the drastic change in mood.
“What’s wrong?”
Her lips quiver but no words come out. After struggling for awhile she finds her tongue.
“I love you!”
The declaration catches you by surprise. You quickly mumble ‘me too’ then go for her lips in a bid to distract her. She stops you midway, her index finger on your lips.
“What do you love about me?”
Your heart beats faster. Cold sweat trickles down your back. You can’t tell whether it’s due to the humidity or her unwavering gaze. Why would she even ask that?
“From the very first moment I laid my eyes on you I knew we were destined to be together. You are intelligent, assertive, caring, beautiful and definitely irresistible. I feel like I can confide in you all my deepest secrets without worrying that you might use them against me.”
She throws her arms around your neck and hugs you so tightly that you can barely breathe. If only she knew that’s exactly what you tell every woman.
Someone watching from a distance would easily think the two of you are deeply in love or even soulmates. The truth is you just met tonight. Actually, you don’t even know her second name.
Earlier that evening, you went to this cool bar right on the beach looking to catch up with an old friend. This was after a day full of meetings with potential partners in the Kenyan south coast where you are looking to set up a new business.
Bar on the beach Bidi Badu Diani Kenya
The joint has a grungy feel. Wooden seats and tables under a thatched shed on the beach. A stage, and bar on opposite ends. The crowd consists of mostly young tourists. A couple of pretty lasses throw you inviting glances. You can feel it in your bones that tonight is going to be amazing.
Then you notice her perched on a bar stool nursing a cold tusker. She is staring back at you. There is something about women who take beer directly from the bottle. They are unpretentious. However, her face is devoid of emotion. You can’t tell whether she is interested or simply curious.
You choose to ignore her instead pay attention to the band on stage playing No woman, No Cry by Bob Marley. Live music especially reggae always moves you. You are so engrossed with the performance that you don’t see her walking up to your table until you feel her palm on your shoulder.
“Hey, can I join you?”
This catches you completely by surprise though you try hard to hide it.
“Yeah…yes…sure.”
She sits next to you, her hips gently grazing yours. Your buddy excuses himself and approaches some lady on the next table.
The mysterious lady signals a waiter.
“Another beer plus whatever he is having.”
You are used to making the first move so this feels quite strange.
She is sporting Dora hairstyle, a black blouse buttoned all the way to the top, long earrings and hot pants. Or is it Ankara shorts? You can’t tell the difference. What piques your interest the most is the powerful aura around her. Every pore on her skin oozes with alluring confidence. It’s like she is used to getting everything she wants. A she-devil.
“I’m Kelvin…. Kelvin Samora .”
“I’m Linda… Just Linda.”
You both chuckle.
“Do you have to say both names?”
“Not really, I just like how it sounds.”
“So what do you do Mr. Kelvin Samora ?”
“I am a storyteller.”
“Journalist?”
“No, blogger.”
“I hate bloggers all they do is spread malicious rumors!”
“Well, I’m one of the good ones… Enough about me, let’s talk about you.”
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“Firstly, are you a criminal planning to spike my drink, rob me then toss my unconscious body into the ocean?”
She bursts out laughing surreptitiously placing her hand on your thigh.
“Would I really tell you that if indeed that was my intention?”
“I don’t know, is it?”
“ No, I came over because I find you attractive.”
The conversation shifts to the weather, coolest tourist spots around and finally about her life.
She heads an NGO that rescues young girls forced into prostitution mostly by their parents. Throws in stats on sex tourism while telling you some of the shocking things she has witnessed in her line of work.
She divulges intimate details about her love life. How her fiancé whom she is set to marry in May is always away, traveling on business. He spoils her with expensive gifts and treats but hardly spends time with her, which greatly contributes to her loneliness.
You hate playing Dr. Phil especially to a lady you find attractive. However, it feels like she needs someone to open up to so you urge her to spill more. She blathers on and on for minutes. You simply nod and smile in silence.
“Do you want to go home with me?”
“Uhm ..what?”
Didn’t she confess to having a boyfriend?
“How about we take this to my place?”
Uneasy silence.
“What about your boyfriend?”
“Don’t worry he is out of town for a couple of days.”
You mull over it for a moment. She doesn’t look like a hooker plus you are set to head back to Nairobi the next morning. What could possibly go wrong?
Her place is about three kilometers away from the bar. As you pull up next to a black gate she stuffs a packet of Durex in your shirt pocket.
“You will need these.”
She lives in a gated community with one main entrance and smaller gates to individual compounds surrounded by a 6-feet thorny fence. The house architecture is Swahili inspired.There is an Africa-shaped swimming pool right outside her house, a seat and a dining table set for six.
“You have a beautiful home.”
“Thanks, wait until you see the bedroom.” She winks at you.
She leads you upstairs. Her bedroom occupies the entire floor. A queen size bed is on one end, a coffee table and seats in the middle, a dressing table, walk-in closet and a treadmill next to the shower cubicle. The French windows next to the bed open to the balcony.
There is a framed picture of Linda and some muscular guy on the table. She quickly puts it away on realizing you were looking at it. If only the poor guy knew what his woman was up to tonight.
“I am heading to the shower, do you want to join me?”
She drags you back to the present.
“Go ahead, I will join you in a few.”
She drops the shirt on the floor and sashays to the shower. She turns and beacons you with her index finger, prurient intentions written all over her face, before closing the glass door.
You gaze out into the darkness trying to make out the beach beyond the line of palm trees. A cloud of sadness settles over you. This is your life. Sleeping around with all kinds of women. Your friends envy you. They think you are a stud. What they don’t know is that deep down you are hurting and lonely. You crave for human connection. The endless and meaningless sex doesn’t fill the emptiness. Nothing does. Every time you go out with a new woman it feels exciting. But after the act all you feel is despondency.
The phone buzzing on the table interrupts your chain of thought. You walk over to the table. A phone is lying face up. Her phone. A man with a bushy beard is calling. It is the same guy you saw on her bedside picture. Meanwhile, you hear the creaking of the rusty gate and a car enter the garage. You rush back to the window and look towards the entrance.
A man in a blue suit and black shiny shoes alights from a black sedan. A banquet of red roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in another. He then picks a traveling bag from the back seat and walks up to the house.
At the very same moment, Linda steps out of the bathroom.
“He is here!” You half-whisper.
“Who?”
“Your fiancé!”
“What? You have to go.”
The guy is twice your size. He looks like he could easily strangle two men at the same time or cave a human skull with a single blow. The last thing you want is to end up on the wrong side of those knuckles. Not when your folks back in the village sacrificed everything to make you the man you are today. Escaping is the only safe option.
You quickly put on your pants, grab your phone, keys, and shirt from the floor and dash to the balcony.
The front door is slam shut followed by quick successive steps coming up the stairs.
“Go now!”
She pushes you off the balcony.
You land on your left foot twisting your ankle in the process. Cursing in pain you limp towards the gate only to find out it’s padlocked.
A piercing scream splits the humid air.
“ Mwizi! Mwizi!”
Looking back you see Linda pointing at you. The guy standing next to her jumps off the balcony rolls over the lawn just like in the movies then comes charging at you.
Faced with mortal danger, you climb up the fence and drop on the other side. Jump into your car, hit the ignition button, disengage the footbrake, engage Drive and floor the accelerator all in under 4 seconds.
The car lurches forward gathering speed like a rhino on steroids. From the rear view mirror, you can see Linda tightly wrapped in his arms, right in the middle of the road, sobbing uncontrollably. There is a triumphant look on his face. Perhaps congratulating himself for getting home in time to scare off a dangerous intruder. The knight in shining armor.
You accelerate and make it through the main gate before the overzealous guard drops the barrier. Join the main road and make a hard left turn narrowly escaping a head collision with an oncoming tour van.
After driving for ten minutes you see a well-lit signpost. Welcome To Diani Beach Hospital. That’s when you feel a sharp pain in your abdomen. On looking down you find out that you are covered in blood. Must’ve been the thorny fence and barbed wire.
You stagger into the hospital reception. Your head feels light. The room begins to spin. Your legs give in. You collapse on the floor in a heap. Nurses in tiny white dresses rush towards you. The last image in your mind as you slip into unconsciousness is that of the seductress in hot pants pointing at you.
If only I knew.
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Adulthood
It is not something that you’d ever dreamt of attaining, when your life was an oil-pastel painting, with a few crayons and sky-scraping dreams carelessly scattered, strangely watched over by the chaotic combination of R. L. Stein and Enid Blyton. No, even when the rush of hormones caused a vivid, painful alteration to the harlequin scenery and to those scattered jigsaw pieces, you did not want to grow up. It did not slap you in the face- the stinging pain lasted longer than that. Instead, it devoured your being, your soul, and parts of you that had no identity- its presence an epidemic creeping into your flesh, celebrating the grand descent in every scandalous step. No, adulthood did not arrive with the blood between your thighs or the prickly hair along your jaw. You knew it was here- when you saw a monster on the other side of the mocking glass, the same wraith who had once lived under your bed. You knew it was here, when you became the poetry that your mother read to you before sleep, poetry you wrote on your dark, dilapidated days-the words tasting sweet-sour-bitter in your poisonous tongue- or, when you cursed the sun for smearing your face, ruthlessly divulging your vulnerably bare limbs and that kaleidoscopic identity, or when you lose yourself in an attempt to find yourself in an illicit affair with darkness, stranded in a strange, masked city. In the hungry waters that failed to wash away the sins of your god- no, there was a pair, when you swallow the pungency of filth in joy, or joy in filth, or both, and your love for this new sin reflects in the precarious surface, adulthood smiles an affordable smile, while those crayons paint monochrome and you embrace earthly dreams and lonely pillows, smiling, then dreading- you are not the only one. Kelvin Samora ©
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