I am a writer perhaps because I’m not that much of a talker
My mind is a wild place, but it’s what keeps me sane
I like simple things… books, being alone, or with someone who understands
I like writing about silence. Weird, right? Stuff people don’t like talking about
Like how I was burnt as a child, and been drawn to fire ever since
Only a burnt hand can explain well the nature of fire
As someone who did not die when I should have died
I knew then that I had always been old enough to die
So I have no option but to love this life, even if it’s with clenched fists
And I always try to help someone coz I remember that only Person who helped me
KJ 📖✍🏾🇰🇪
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Since your touch I can’t feel
Or stroke the beam of streetlight on your skin
My metaphors will have to fill
My presence next to you my Melanin Queen
I can’t be there to whisper this to you
But I’m glad life’s been somwhat kind to you
That you’re hugged by the winds the forests breathe
Perhaps your neck could use some of my teeth
I just had a wry smile thinking about it
But tonight, just wear this crochet that my words knit
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They say that hell is crowded
Yet, when in hell, you always seem to be alone
You can’t tell anyone or they’ll think you’re crazy
Those who escape hell never talk about it
And nothing much bothers them after that
Not missing a meal, going to jail, accidents or even death
When you ask them, “how are things?”
They will always answer, “fine, just fine…”
Once you’ve been to hell and back, that’s enough
Nothing scares you anymore, it makes you smile
And the sun is always up at midnight
It’s the greatest satisfaction known to man
Charles Bukowski 📖✍🏾
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Osiep chunya, you really shouldn’t be reading this
I want to rearrange your guts and bite your full lips
I don’t want to be poetic, I just want to be epic
I want to pull your panties down to your kness
And do you right here in this vast moonlit beach
Remember when I asked you how you feel about myself
And you took my hand there and made me find out for myself
I had to empty you of air and fill you with myself
It’s not my fault that my toungue paused midstroke
It’s just the more I tasted you, the more I didn’t stop
Blushing cheeks, messy hair, and the moaning non-stop
They say an honest man is a child, lying isn’t part of me
I guess that makes me your baby, your nipples are so fond of me
KJ 📖✍🏾🇰🇪
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Some people don’t know what it feels like
To have everything they ever wanted, but I do
That’s exactly how I feel whenever I’m deep kissing you
Growing up, I didn’t always like getting in trouble
Then I found you’re trouble, now I always do
I’m in love with you. It’s as simple and as complicated as that
I want to love you in all the ways you wanted
But were too afraid to believe that you deserved
I know that, all this time, you saved the best of you
For someone that understood the worst of you
Someone that kisses you goodnight and not goodbye
That undoes the buttons in your mind before those on your back come undone
I don’t just want to grow old together with you
In you, I’ve found someone I can stay a child with
Another child, my babygirl, my Angel-Princess
Aheri Jaber, anaheri nyakachiel
KJ 📖✍🏾🇰🇪
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There’s nothing as powerful as words
They can break hearts and make elastic cotton fabrics wet
I have a lot to say about you my darling, my cutie patootie
And if writing you my sexual desire is a form of death
Then welcome to my eulogy, I hope it ends in bed
I want to fuck you. It’s an opportunity not to be wasted
My dick gets excited by the very suggestion of a naked you painted
All I think about is pulling your well-worn panties down
And fucking you while you still have your socks on
I know you. You’re the kind of girl with a restless mind and impatient legs
You like spending rainy afternoons in bed, busy gettting wet
You like the thought of my hand squeezing your breast
And my mouth sucking on your nipples, really loving the taste
I want to put my hands on your precious weak knees
You have a book there that I’ve been dying to read
There are some words I want to write on that pretty pink page
Imaginary letters written in cursive circles, a conversation that’s of age
I want it all. Your lips biting, mouth moaning, hips twitching and pussy dripping
Sex is a delicious cake, and love is the icing on top
Once you get a taste of this piping bag, you’ll never want to stop
KJ 📖✍🏾🇰🇪
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I am told that I write so beautifully
Then my mind must be disturbed, quite terribly
I write because my inside voice is never still
I write to taste life twice.. And to my fill
When it comes to you, my thoughts are seldom pure
I blame the look in your eyes when they set on me, it’s trouble that’s sure
You are all things wrong, but the only one that feels right
I want you to feel my fingers unclip your bra
I want to slide my hands up your skirt until my fingers and your lips are at par
I want to grip your throat while you grip from inside, so hot
I want you saying “we should not be doing this it’s not godly”
While you feel my pulse inches deep in your body
KJ 📖✍🏾🇰🇪
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I could watch a million sunrises and still
Never see one nearly as quite as beautiful
As your eyes opening up in the morning, it’s blissful
So well and good, but I’m not in that mood
I don’t want to whisper these sweet things in your ear
I don’t want to brush my fingers through your hair
I want to devour you. It’s too beautiful a morning to make love to you
I want to unravel the last thread of decency you possess
I know it feels so wrong, and suddenly, so wonderfully right
To be stirred inside while being sipped by these thirsty lips
I know kisses would kill just to have those pretty lips
And to feed them only kisses frustrates my buldging zip
Even though you’re a timid girl, you love the smell of books
Right now you want me to ruin you, I know that look
I am your wish that came true, and now it’s time to cookKJ 📖✍🏾🇰🇪
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I was never afraid of love
Only what it’d turn me into
I wonder who else has the guts
To just stand there with nothing
Yet still offer something to the world
Maybe it’s better to stay a mystery
To be wrapped under a cloak of confusion
Than to be understood & left in the cold
It has always been the same story
People are exactly who they are
But some lessons are learned too late
And I have always been the slow learner
So after trying tirelessly to win hearts
I’m now ready to learn how to shatter a few
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I’m a poet of the poor, I was poor when I loved
Since I could not give gifts, I gave words
I guess the desert teaches you more about water
Than all the oceans in this world ever could
Now that I get to be generous with gifts
I no longer bang my big toe against the coffee table
Just familiar strangers craving a bit of danger
Perhaps some day I will love again
As if it were my first time all over again
And finally pen the chapters I left hanging
In the great love story that I was writing
KJ 📖✍🏾🇰🇪
The Way 🇰🇪 