by Richard Oduor
Comrade, this is no poem,
Who touches this
Touches Doctor Barky’s patented magic cabinet of
certified, strictly guarantee simplicity and truth.
– Kenneth Fearing
As usual, I’m sitting in the study. It’s quiet; pin-drop silence, except for the tap-tap music of my fingers raining instructions on the keyboard. I have nothing in particular in mind, but I hope that as I write along, my thoughts will flow like the silent rivers of servitude that hide beneath the cursing of a tormented self; that they will unclothe my pretences and urge my self to tip-toe into the nether regions of the mind, where the library of life is housed.
I still my nerves and wait for a lullaby from the dead past to remind me that the future sleeps unlived. Once in a while we need our own space, just to sit calmly and meditate on the beauty…
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