GEORGEViLLE

By day, the sharp streaks of scorching sun deeply slice through our skins-but not our souls folks hiss and slither side by side Yet glide after stride,blow after hug Sinner stands apart from saint, black flows sharp  from white and the righteous condemn and curse the damned With the long awaited relieving cover of dusk, the comfortable blanket of night spreads in its path an odd honest spell of lycanthropy A metamorphosis of white and black into familiar  cocktails of grey We juggle and vanish our halos for fitting crowns of thorns At that holy moment, there is no need to decant For oil and water seep separately no more George W Kiwanuka @Georgewkiwanuka

The fear of death is obstructively futile That cold numb night as you lay bleeding in the ICU, gasping for breath Feeling lighter and lighter - almost floating As the monitor beeps, you see a faint image of your kinsfolk Staring, embracing – hugging tightly In the absence of the proverbial gentle breeze, Their sobs and wails concern you not For its pointless to brood over what might have been You ponder about your pilot to the ‘other side’ Is it Walumbe [1] who has wrung the life out of you? Or a sword bearing angel of death atop a dark horse Do you traverse a tunnel at whose end a light awaits? Or stride into an initiation fete with ancestors to await appeasement as an ancestral spirit Honoured with spilled drinks [2] and consulted by descendants for counsel Have you earned the right to eternal rest? Or will you unhappily roam and haunt the earth settling old scores? Occasionally creeping from your dark grave to Venture onto streets as a sheep...

In the backdrop of intense winds and outside rustling leaves,  You clutched your rosaries and  bibles in grim silent terror 'Shut your Eyes' 'Don't peek or speak'-echoed internally like divine law You froze to the clack sound of bone and wood against the dorm floor  And lost faith in the cross you had drawn on the suitcase squeezed onto the side of your bed You repented and said a silent earnest prayer for miraculous instant sleep. You instead recalled Muwanga's horrid prescient natter on these creatures Earlier in the bright sunny secure blanket of day The uninvited night violent guests - ghastly apparitions carried with them  slappy  treats for the naughty boys and much too often made off with their valuables to the obscure world beyond Woe unto those who curiosity tricked into opening their eyes, Legend had it that Kakalabanda liked such rebels the most and it was said that he was certain to carry them away never to be seen again. @Georgewkiwanuka *Kak...

I am going to wring you a heartfelt ballad on a dry old note and cage it in a dimming glass bottle I'll pour out my unfeigned hopes and fiery desires Toss and set it adrift the lake I'll hope that you dig in, inhale and partake of the thousand dreams and memories imprisoned in the fading glass dungeon I am irresolute with feelings a thousand feet tall thwarted by open sores from spewing and affirming them So I'll lay back and envisage you...your thin brown fingers cracking open the bottle bathing in the liberated plaudits and sunbaked laments of my soul I'll send you a message in a bottle, and...wait for you to come  rescue me, For I am marooned on a defeatist desert island Gloomed and smothered by ambivalence without a ship in sight @Georgewkiwanuka

Today, in the oblivion of night, I will knit you a golden noose to match the golden chalice from which you've supped and inebriated yourself with our blood whilst we bow It will be perfumed and laced  with a ritzy fragrance kissed and wrapped in Egyptian cotton to suit your opulent lofty relish The noose shall be woven with expensive thread from Spain and infused with a bit of arm and leg, embroidered with your initials Cleaned and dusted daily so it does not crease Lest we forget, we will dye it with what's left of our blood only it will not matter...we will not remember So long as the noose is a tight fit for your fine neck. George W Kiwanuka @Georgewkiwanuka

I saw her again, I laid my eyes on that beautiful passionate volcano Regret and nostalgia almost overwhelmed me for I missed her the sparkling gem of perfection that had warmed my cold lonesome life with heat and joy replaced my dark thoughts with boundless content and sensual adventure An angry flame that never quite run out of love I was a hateful ice block intimidated by her ember and smolders disarmed and threatened by her happy free spirit A burning flame of desire, she was a conflagration she tore me with her nerve wrecking force and knocked me over into a colourful bewildering cocktail of gratification and longing sealed over legal jargon and scorching vodka she was this enchanting spark that would burst into a consuming energy whose touch and kisses sent me into ceaseless trembles I am....was possessed, out of control high on catalyst, off-guard and fearful the fast speed ruptured us as well as heat and cold go I was ice and she was my fire...while the cind...

Callous candid recollections plunge my now n yesterday self Flashes of past lives  pleasure and torment me my demons stalk, possess me conspiring with loneliness in a dirty liasion to choke and drown me into subdue I moan with dark uncertainty and peak in passionate consummation with danger dance-skiing on knife edges, courting and caressing grenades,triggers kissing the hangman's noose in playful hobby trading for  brief intimacy with comfort & content Nay, I reject the bittersweet blues of nostalgia I denounce the consuming need to answer and explain to pledge to 'concerned' folks to let me trek my path granting me orgasmic fulfillment in the drugs and poisons of my choice. By George W Kiwanuka @Georgewkiwanuka