Eerie Reverie

By Blessings A.M. Kamanga

A remedy for boredom. Read the poetry and the short stories that are both entertaining and short. The book combines various themes and concepts. From sci-fi to historical, political and Religious spheres. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blessings A.M. Kamanga
• Release date: Nov 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386288220

Book preview

FLIGHT OF THE GENIUS

You were not just a gargantuan intellectual,

You were a soul of great character,

The serene azure of the sky,

That outclassed the expectations of genius

You inspired an empire of leaders,

And ignited in us a fiery fire to shine

With the unquenchable embers of wisdom,

For knowledge to unflinchingly infinity we’ll yearn.

Just yesterday you taught us in class,

But today, he shall never teach us,

Today he is gone, but yesterday he lives.

In this attenuating interlude that spans an eternity.

At its cessation; an infinity in the Eden.

How we wish today was yesterday,

For yesterday a great giant stood among us,

But time and death have done us injustice, alas.

We have regressed all your life’s work on you,

And have found them to be significant,

Statistically, economically, morally and otherwise.

A great genius is gone,

In the quite of the night,

How soon and unprecedented his flight.

It rained cats and dogs

In the tears of our eyes

Sad news of your demise pierced hearts

Death has left us wretched

Beating us over our Richard

You were an indelible high priest of knowledge

In the classic ordinance of economics

A lecturer of high caliber

A man of noble character

You sparked a galaxy of economic super-giants,

As you conjured your scholarly wisdom

And wrought a universe in econometrics

Lambda and tau were the super powers

Igniting in us a passion

The zeal to sip deep

The zeal of knowledge

But how the econometrics colossus is gone

Grief has battered our hearts brutally

Time has done us unfathomable injustice

Leaving us wandering in the pits of dilemma

Where will we tap such a genius again?

By; Blessings Kamanga and Tionge Bindula

IN THE SOUTH

There were whispers and nodes,

Silent laughs and suppressed smiles,

As they shared stories of a land,

A land in the South they said.

A land in the heart of the South;

A land flowing with water,

That would make the Kalahari,

A thriving and thick Fauna.

A Nation with eternal streams,

But its inhabitants shrunk with thirst,

Dehydrated like those of the Sahara.

They stood in silence,

When they heard of this kingdom,

With a king who rode in twenty carriages.

A path made in commoners regalia,

Their meagre contribution to his luxury,

They were mesmerized, perplexed and dumfound.

How can a single man fit twenty carriages?

Did his inflated belly deserve that much?

A land in the deepest depths of the South,

That had so much freedom,

That its former masters dictated its laws;

With an iron rod in the hand of hand-outs

And a whip in the left hand of globalization.

They would shout at their ex-slaves;

Women remove thy garb

And adorn with thyself with undergarments,

Men leave thy beautiful wives.

And embrace men in matrimony,

And by reason of freedom

They would freely obey.

That dark place in the South,

Whose god is a fiery fire in the sky;

Though they lacked control of fire.

At the onset of darkness,

The land and the trees sleep,

Even the fireflies black out.

We must all go and see this land,

an antique and anarchist antic.

STRANGE WINTER

Yes, she blossomed before my eyes

As her eye were ablaze with fire

Changing from a stranger to a queen

Incinerating all my logical inhibitions

Nullifying my earthbound prejudices

Taking me through romantic ascension

And holding me through heavens aisle

Summer is the forecast of a winter

Old; it became and brought the chilly wind

Under the spell of a frozen heart I shivered

Zero degrees freezing my insides

As the strange winter had become the winner

In defeat I let the summer go

Living without leaving is a disrespect to seasons

On this cold night I decided to leave to the sun

Vanishing just to get warmth in the solar core

Erasing my indiscretions and erecting my house

Under the heavens and above the Earth

THIS GRAVE

This grave of hearts

Is the gravest of deaths

A tombstone for that lover

Whose heart I buried beneath the sand

In my chest lays an empty cavity

Devoid of all love

Tell the stem cells to grow me a new heart

A new heart beat

A new smile and laugh

Bath me in those endorphins

And shower me in the sweet serotonin

A new bond births a younger heart

In the rocky egg of my dead chest

A zombie breathes life again

And metamorphoses into a butterfly

A flutter of your wings oh! Lover

Is the palpitation of my heart

Carry me on your wings

Like a chick under her mother’s wings

Protect me from the predators in the romantic jungle

Ready to swallow me whole

I have seen Hell oh! Lover

In the afterlife

Anubis has weighed my heart above the pyramid

Valhala, has shattered my armor before

As I fought the seven deadly sins

Each battle opening the seven chakras

Until you came and resurrected me

From this grave of hearts

Where my heart was gravely dead.

THE GRASSROOTS

They are the pinnacles of oppression

The harbingers of unfathomed inequality

Like daylight and the night in stark contrast

The grim reaper in our eternal nightmare

Taxed to death by the political rodomontade

And played by the propagandists like a bass guitar

A sorrowful dirge emanates from these dry bones

A valley of skeletal mementos by the behemoth

A behemoth that consumes their souls from birth

And stumps on the grassroots to their death

A corrupt behemoth is a gluttonous dragon

Callously cannonading contentiously contorted citizens

A terror-clad terrain is the ether in its wake

A city in ruins, a forest of bruin akin to canids puling

A gloomy transcendent and hellish reality

The grassroots cling on the verge of oblivion

THE GHOST OF FUTURE PAST

The Ghost of future past

I can hear the chimes

The day of reckoning is nigh

The grim reaper is here

The contentious horns draw near

Red hot like fiery tones

He angrily glares with an obvious leer

As he whips the tail in his rear

The unbearable heat is a bit queer

As I convulse in ecstatic fear

My buried sins begin to resurrect

My precious, My precious wealth

Suffocate my narrow nostrils

The pungent aroma of the lavish thrills

The