We had our own infinity,
In a crammed space of time


I knew from the very start
You were an arrow different from the quiver
The tip a deadly sharpened point
So that no one ever came close
I sat and watched in silence
As the world passed me by
When I stared into your eyes
And found you staring right back
I wondered just how far I’d fall
If I ever tried to fly to you
From the first words you ever said to me
I was already craving for more
I watched you with such interest
And made myself a bow
We had our own infinity
In a crammed space of time
Apart we had both been useless
But we finally knew why
You needed someone to pull you
If you ever wanted to fly
So I aimed with precision
And you flew right from the start
Until you landed with a loud thud
On the target of my heart
I hope you like the choice you made
Because I know I like mine
I don’t know how to hide the ocean underneath my skin
No one ever told me in love you drown
Because you don’t bore me with “I love you” a lot
You excite me with “Don’t worry
I’m always going to be here for you”

By Ken Mrima

Find a Good Life.

And you will find a good life

Spend time with Happiness,
Sit and share with Kindness,
Sometimes take a walk with Joy,
And go on a date with Love,
Play a game with Laughter,
Then sing a song with Truth,
And you will see Honesty right there,
Let your every stop be Love,
Your every move be Peace,
Your secret spice Forbearance,
And you will find a good life.

You Didn’t, You Should’ve!

Innocent love is beautiful,
The smiling and kindness,
How easy it is to forgive,
With patience at its peak,
You do not even have to try,
You are always nice at first,
And you do not get to worry about yourself,
For you become selfless for a while.

But what do you do?
When you let in someone you should not have?
When you give them a free ticket to your life,
So now since they have it already,
You stand there with your hands tied,
And watch them hover around,
Asking questions about you,
Fetching information from you,
More easily than you imagined.

How do you tell them?
That there is something they do not know,
Something they have been missing all along,
A detail that could keep them off.
How do you tell them,
That they can only come so far,
That they have to leave before he is back,
That this heart has already been taken?

You see them smile white and bright,
Will you throw a shade of dark truth?
Will you hide the moon on a dark night?
Will you quench the wick before it glows?
What do you do?

When you should have stopped them, you did not.
When you could have told them, you did not.
When you had time to paint your life in its entirety, you did not.
Now you have to live with it,
The heavy blurr of confusion,
For when you could clear out the air, you did not.

🌌This Frail Body.🌌

This quiet body rages inside,
With outer disposition of calm waters,
But turbulent seas inside.

This frail body wants,
This frail body wants something,
To pick a gift before it’s given,
Unwrap it before it’s time.

This sick body rests,
This sick body rests never,
Even when you think it’s rested,
In restlessness picks its want.

This needy body calls,
This needy body calls out,
When dry it calls for rain,
And while it rains will motion sun,
Till it gets a piece of each,
But never has enough.

This quiet body rages,
This quiet body rages inside,
With outer disposition of calm waters,
But turbulent seas inside.

This frail body troubles,
This frail body troubles me,
Going ahead of me too fast,
Taking forbidden fruit,

And when my eyes are open,
Shame and guilt again.


Gone Bird.

My heart longs to be healed,
Deep within I crave for her song.

Once I had a little bird,
A lovely beautiful bird,
That sang me such lovely song,
So sweet it healed my wounded heart,
With time my ears would tire,
Of music from my parrot,
So I sent her away, “off you go!”
“Away with you, Chicoreco!”,
But every time she’d come back,
To sing me all over again,
For this was all she could do for me,
One cold Saturday evening,
I sent her away again,
My ears had had enough,
And She, a timid thing, obliged,
She left but never came back,
Everyday I leave my window open,
Hoping that she’ll come home,
My heart longs to be healed,
Deep within I crave for her song.

Mother Hen and The Crooked Cock.

Birds of the feather flock,
Birds of one father may not,
The chicken in our coop:
Mother hen sat on twelve eggs,
Eight hatched,
Others stale.
Daily she walks the chicks,
Spots grain,
Selectively feeding them,
Warms them,
She has devotion,
Chicks and hen connected-
Conducting heat,
Sheltered under bulging wings,
Under the shadow dwelling secure.

All this while,
The cock roams freely,
A bird in display,
Majestic in stature,
Strongest of them all,
He sends alarm.
The loose rooster wanders,
He spins around for copulations,
While hens their eggs daily lay,
He fends off the best grains,
Outcompeting weakling chicklings.

See how mother hen persists,
For she must raise her offspring,
And while the rooster crows all day,
He knows not what grain they eat,
And though he’s blessed with longer wings,
He spends his warmth alone,
Every chilly day and every dark cold night.
The rooster grooms,
The crooked cock is gloom.


Ego Burst.


There is something about feeling wanted,
That gives you powers of sorts,
To juggle around with hearts,
Your esteem peaks and you have control,
For once you forget the downside of up-
How it felt once upon a time,
When you were unpopular, a reject.

It is a priceless feeling, exciting even,
Like the world needs your approval to go round,
Like they should now add your name to the anthem,
Because you would sound great in the chorus,
Your value for self quickly appreciates,
You become a highly demanded commodity,
And begin to downplay others.

After a while your market may feel disappointed,
That you’ve become a spoilt commodity,
So some will leave for better quality substitute brands,
Beacuse clearly, you do not measure up.
Yes you may be full of yourself,
But you would be better scaling up, so style up!
Some customers may remain clueless,
But only for so long,
Because the stench of your spoil cannot be hidden anymore,
You will try to polish your surface,
Hoping that no one notices your stench,
But this fact will not last.

I have had a bad feeling about this feeling,
This feeling of you feeling wanted,
That bloats you up then sends you flying,
Till a blade of grass bursts your balloon,
Till you wake up from your somber dream,
And decide to sober up.
But I am afraid that you will have ran out of time,
If you keep waiting for your ego to be pricked,
Sometimes being regular and present like a pillow,
Is perfect condition for you to be wanted,
It’s about being present even when it’s dark and cold.