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[thegoldandsugar-blog]

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[thegoldandsugar-blog]

AROUND 365



This is the “shameless”  me heading home,in a matatu booming loud crunk and some silly Fetty Wap crysongs( yeaaaah bae…),from a place that took me dosens of courage bundles and self discipline to atleast gather guts to leave ; of course there’s always a bunch of sinners trying to drive your faith into badlands where there are no parents you have to report to, in full detail, as to why you are having bad dreams about coming home late, since God is gracing them with a whole pack of awesomeness, so somehow you get home eleven deep night and your old man goes like “do you want us to lie outside watching the stars, reciting poetry into the thin air?” Ring! Ring! Wake up! Run away from them as first as you can’t since all you do is drink senator cage in a local bar so you got a belly looking like you Swallowed a giant drumstick without chewing but all is good though, Ladies still f-audio censor,  tiiiiiingg!- with you. 

Text Reference  ( Punctuality  - never mistake its power in your peace at home especially when lecturers are on strike and home is one place people  will have to bear with your loud disturbing singing of a weird genre of music for a very long time, like long!) 

Okay. I was about to narrate stories from where I’m from. A friend’s place, as always. Been there for some couple of days if you are using the high timeline (sometimes you wish you could wake up and spend a day just human, your lungs full of fresh air and the liver on vacation in Ibiza but there’s always that call from one your so called ninjas - “i swear this sh*t is lit, last night i was smoked and felt so astronaut."  Then they sum the deal with that notoriously famous phrase "there also a few girls too”. God forbid the things that construction of grammar does to our brains,  all the way to a lame excuse like "my friend’s cousin passed away, im going to console with them tonight". Remember to ask how many times that good friend has  had to kill you to show up at your ‘predicted-to-be-lit’  party with no girl or a bottle of cheap whisky, in contrary with demands and instructions highlighted in the invitation on WhatsApp.A very serious violation of the turn up ratio principles and high accords.  

Now, Now,Now. It was a good night from where i come from, I mean it was considerable damage to the body having spent the whole week sleeping, eating, doing nothing! That "Jack with no play is a dull boy"  philosophy is something i hold so dear to my heart people. So some green leaf combustion to release healthy carbon killing  cancer cells, initiating  some brain rebooting and application updates was going on after a day full of similar  happenings in a location from which i telepoted to this place where i leave fellow sinners going on with the quests for higher clouds. One thing is we didn’t know how we found ourselves here but damn! We’re a bunch of lost warthogs, we don’t remember sh*t and that, is one reason we’re so happy  ( Lord help them see their lives) 

As the routine prescribes it to be, i mean some random confessions about how elevated one feels ; in the skies flying with stokes, delivering babies to fellow men who apparently… ( ladies and gentlemen, the next statement has been written out of utmost respect for all men and if not, my apologies)… Shoot blanks!  Then you feel so amazing and amidst all these good things are stupid moments like "this stash is fine bruh, whom did you buy it from? Especially when you were the same single person in that clique that knows all the sellers in your area and individually went to purchase the magic wands, YOURSELF!   If you were in a serious session then you don’t miss an Einstein moment during which numerous brainstorms are battering your skull, exploding with billions of ideas about the cosmos and the relationship between FIFA 17 and Heaven (sometimes you might fail to grip the difference but brethren! Brethren! ) . Of course it doesn’t go without mentioning the various “facts”  and concrete reasons as to why your extremely silly arguments came to existence, deserving a chunk of minutes set aside for their discussion and clarification. The beat of that EDM track is overwhelming your emotions and you hate your life. Why do you stay in such a cursed continent with black people and elephants which attract more love than the people themselves? You want to live in America, go to some dope college in Dallas, get paid a few dollars per hour( you’re a humble child from Africa,  with an ashy face since most of the vaseline is spent on other vital body checks and balances,  so “a few” will be okay), eat some McDonald’s burgers or Subway cookies  and mess with white boujee babes. This is one of those moments you wonder what your great grandfathers were doing when others were taken up for slavery now their generations living lavish in Beverly Hills. They must have been some lazy bunch i swear. Right now you could be some youth in Atlanta looking like a vintage ghost of Shakes Makena in the super strikers classics, with some gold tooth and a zombie rap style earning a thousand bucks with a name like "Kodak Black" ( may the gods have mercy) . Out of nowhere!  Upto where we are now you can sense the humour in your Hollywood aspirations so you laugh out loud, seconds before your mates join in, till that final time a rush of wisdom strikes one of you and asks what y'all laughing about, then you realize  there was actually no joke but then again, who cares?  The cycle continues.

This is what I’m thinking at that moment, my Einstein moment! What if our world was a just a setting of a game section played by a people of an elite dimension, the real world now. Let’s say like GTA stuff. So each one of us is a Trevor of some sought, your gamer is bad at racing, shooting and even finding locations because unfortunately he got no clue of the map and its purpose. Basically, his “gaming”  skills are on the garbage side of mediocre, lets say it’s a dumb ass potential school dropout trying to spend time away so evening can come and sleep, moral lesson - you’re a game over or busted(dead!) . In short, this type of game is that which was played 10 years ago by the urban kids with PS(long before the numbers) now they took all their old  junk to the countryside so relatives are trying to chase the trend. That’s how bad these imaginations are. I’m proud of myself, honestly. Of all these red-eyed fallen humans staring at me sharing this fiction, anticipating the next part of this  plot like the release of the next shooter episode in those pirate sites, over buffering connection,i think i have the best story! 

Come on now, you and i know that one guy that got  to tell false stories about his uncle and the many ladies who certainly find him a supermodel and can’t resist proclaiming their love all over social media. He’s always recording chest bare videos for his 316 Instagram followers or “with the boys”  captioned pictures, with the many Picsart filters, to his Facebook .Sometimes you’re there in your zone thinking why you tolerate such characters in your outcast living till it hits you that you were not blessed with the sweet slippery tongue to lure in all the pretty girls to your parties that he professionally possesses. He’s always there to save your thirst,as long as he doesn’t pay for any other activity. ( sniper tings, put some hashtags on that). 

Drifting down this plot, this is the best deal of this turnt up business! The ladies. The sweet ladies that accepted to be part of a life saving campaign as far as your boring day is concerned , God bless their tolerance, even I wouldn’t dare to give my number to myself, let alone answering to a "Form call". You can’t believe what we tell you the next day but that part about you pulling some Grrrrrh ! Grrrrh!  to a “rrrrraah”,   lecturing a dab session for the song "panda"  to a girl smiling sheepishly, balancing on wobbly worn out feet asking silly sad questions at the corner is a true story. One in which your vampire qualities are activated so you are frequently seen in dark corners and poorly lit corridors serving as blindspots for the prosperity of your uncouth behaviours inspired by a great deal of moral decay.You somehow want to walk to that girl sitting on the couch and whisper “that’s some fine piece of beef you carry  back there”  but then you realise she’s still on the other side of town and the joke may not have a required reciprocate , enough slaps today, more drugs for her. Now you’ve changed your mind about her, “noo, she’s too rachet bruh, too rachet! Don’t play yourself! ” ( the boys up there are in serious analysis and checks - you can even establish family backgrounds of all your friends by sight alone. Of course these are the same boys that  save the day from the rant of your father) Before processing the next thought, the stomach is up. Dear Munchies, even the ice cubes seem edible : bottomline, this hunger is pure evil with lots of malice! Hunger games catching fire! The moment you come out of the house, dusk has come, an end of a new day, the same day you had promised to show up at home before noon. Change of course now. A few  minutes later, you’re in this mat’ writing this silly story that probably no one  will like even after laughing to it because you are not any lady posting a "#lipgame"  pic with an inspirational quote like, "throw me to the wolves and I’ll come back leading the pack" (why is social media so heartless? It’s like, liking your fellow ninja’s post is gay!) . It’s still the same you caring not to make any close eye contact with other passengers at this point because unfortunately, your eyes can tell it all. You know there are thousands of grammatical mistakes all over this composition but what are edits for? Furthermore this is a good piece, fruits of "the stash" and next time you’re called up yonder, you won’t hesitate. See your life! 



[thegoldandsugar-blog]

BABY DADDIES.

Sixty days since December, A lot has changed from the furthest i can remember, Yes, Like Amber, My new daughter with the town's celebrity plumber, ( Now that's not the funny part so don't crack it yet, infact no comedy is intended here at all!) Sons and daughters, Offsprings of reckless nights and flash considerations, Granted life by a guilty conscience brewed from the ten accords back in my youth when "the God's child" still lived in me. "Who's my father?" ✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴ TONY. The Church Deacon, Well, It wasn't an angel that brought forth the request or message about your birth, A child concieved of a holy spirit - man, it was no Bible story, You are a memory that lives to haunt my past and blurred my future even as much as i try to shake it off, An eclipse that shadowed my faith in God and sucked up hope drowning it with everything i ever dreamt of, "Respect Your Elders And You Shall Live Long " That was the bible son, the holy book that bound the faith of every Christian but blinded my very eyes from predicting the patterns of mischief and lifelong trauma. Had i had the chance to relive it, I'll die in the morning, Before mama's call to take my deceased father's Bible to that soulless creature! I'm sorry son, sometimes i didn't kiss you goodnight just to have a good sleep without nightmares! ✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴ JAMES. Officer Richard James, They called him thr the African-White Man, beloved of the blacks in South Africa ! Kind and gentle, Took the duty to serve to his heart and held it close by, That name's still a sale at the county police, Gave you the same to solidify the resemblance for some child support but i forgot, The police are law enforcers so somehow they're Supreme to the law. Saved me from a month in those stinking caves with ancient graphiti they dare call correction facilities, Are they the same which the budget allocated millions for their renovation last year? Who knows? Anyway, A good man i could say, He could wish the doctrines about police conduct and general codes of humanity will share the same thought, Let alone anticorruption units and his wife! It was just a poor lady hawking cheap goods in rich man's land and a 'gentleman' extended a hand to help, Don't you think so? Somewhere they must have told you about man-eat-man society, We're true worshipers in that religion son, Mother was dying from cancer and your elder brother was still a toddler. I had to. ✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴ SARAH. Now you, What was your father's name again? What did he even look like apart from the stubborn self i see in you? He should be some crack dealer or hired security at a local club, one of those playing that loud bullshit making me sing your little sister back to sleep thousands of times each night! Im sure you've been to one with your uptown high-end living friends you worship at school, Dreaming about Hollywood nights living like Paris Hilton in the State Of An Empire, Defaulting in school fee payments because you believe the money i clean up filthy homes for is best buying you lipsticks than knowledge, I wish i could burst out a laugh but sympathy is overwhelming my dear, Oh, now am being too hard on you? The reason you can't post good grades even when I tire all day to buy you a Disney pencil pouch! Then suddenly i should feel touched and apologize to you, "Honey I'm Sorry "," So so..." A psychologist is out of grip for my pockets but a tip or two you should really consider, Your mother isn't a role model, neither is the hype! ✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴ JIM! Dear son, How's school going? I know i missed the format up there but a letter is still one if the message goes through. Your mid-term report was delivered a week ago and the grades are still amazing though that's no call for reluctance. You can still be better. Just like your father. Let's say wasn't a good listener and composed as troubles have shaped me to be in these times, A man sat at the table in a corner and asked for a cold beer from a worn out bar maid working extra hours to feed her three kids back home with a neighbor, Two weeks before she was fired for refusing to go under the sheets with her boss, This one time out of a couple times he made her do it with a threat on losing the job she so needed to keep her load rolling down the plank. I think that was Sarah's father, Now i recall the face of that dreaded monster with that strong Arabian accent, Yes! That was him! Anyway, that man at the bar lived to shelter a stranger with three hungry children for two long months, Eating and crying on his left arm as his right struggled to finish his book, "The Pigs" He called it, Pigs who ate the whole lot of fresh food in the farm to the remains left for low lifes, Pigs which tarmacked our lives with lies and false promises weeks before elections so they could run their heavy flashy mortocardes, Purchased from German dealers with "National projects'" money, running on tonnes of fuel catered for by the "government" over pricing the same on citizens, The same pigs that sold numerous copies of your father's hardwork and never paid him a dime before imprisoning him for insulting the "state powers" because he sued them, And in all this, this woman right here wasn't anywhere close because she'd chosen to leave long before, His stories were boring, he'd done enough for them, he was too good for her, He had a graduated British accent from Oxford that she didn't like it (or understood it-its a dropout disease ) Too many blank reasons son. Just too many to run away back to the past where no golden days had been seen. Still an innocent man, To his last breath behind bars built by demons fighting truth and justice throughout the systems , To the depths where he lays awaiting apocalypse, Took great care of his son! To his last insurance policy. Enough of today's writing. Always stand by the right pillars through your eyes so the world won't crumble and drag you down with it, Prepare and care to ask before acting, Success has less room for mistakes, The timezones too might be corrupted, chase time with all your stamina. Stay safe son, Your Truly. ✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴ Who else has a father question ? Young man! Please go play with the neighbor's children, It's a blessed society we live in, Loyal descendants of Adam and the woman*, Eve was once someone i called "mother" Long Long before Tony's father, When i was this little angel singing in the church, summoning the holy ghost to the dias with a voice Maya Angelou admired, 'You're Alpha and Omega...' and the angels seemed to fly yonder singing the praise with us, With brother John Nkubu, the ministry's most dignified deacon! He loved children! Mother's loved him, both for his great personality and PHYSIC! That was the type of my mother, The long praying holy women chosen by God through the lamb. The mother's that don't listen to their daughters' cries, neither believe a doctor's report on the same, Just because the author of this horror story is a director in their erotic movies and preacher of gospel he knows nothing of, It's called church people, Church! Go boy! Mama's stories are always sad. When you grow old you protect your little sister, She doesn't have to be a writer of such a story, People no longer read these anymore, Come on, all those fashion magazines with super model covers? All those comic books or alien superheroes and human bats? You'll even be crazier reading than listening to some new school jams about sex, drugs and money, What more moral lessons could you be asking for? Its a great world but the fact that some parts are tearing away doesn't mean that we throw away the cloth, The fabric still has some strength, You can sew it back together.