GEORGEViLLE

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

Folks who have lived more than us and have thus experienced more of life have more fun escapades to narrate than many the smart phone trolling lads of our generation.They also have much advice and life lessons to spruce our usually shallow knowledge on survival and existence in this universe known to always be brewing treachery. We get to tap their wisdom from what they've lived through and passed on to us.One of the earliest proverbs I learnt as a child (for my grandfather liked to say it every now and then) was the Luganda "Enyanja etta agyimanyidde " which, translated loosely to mean "The lake kills he that is accustomed to it" that is, it's fishermen who drown most...an ironic scenario by all means or at least am certain irony is what the person who coined it intended to achieve. The elders have persistently told of people who have met their ends (usually brutal gruesome ends) at the hands of things they were accustomed to and individuals that have seeme...

The night when the world's largest democracy cast their vote to choose the next leader of the free world did not find me anxious as well in contrast to many people around me.At home,the excitement tempted me to ask what the next president of the US had to do with Uganda except the usual foreign policy that never does much change for me as an individual. Even more bewilderment hit me when I saw what's app groups named Team Trump and Team Hillary and saw die hard Ugandans changing their social media profile photos and groups of Boda Boda cyclists engaged in deep discussion about the possible outcome of this historical election. Historical because if Mrs Hillary Clinton had won,despite her heavy experience as senator, former Secretary of State, First Lady and more, she would have been the first woman to take on this mantle.It would be an ever greater victory for her mates the Democrats who would not only be celebrating an extension of their control of government but also another...

One of the teachers I will probably never forget all throughout my school life was an extremely tough Itetsot lady who was transfered to my Primary 4 class to teach my then favourite subject;English Language. With the risk of coming off as a lazy lad,the major reason for my preference of this unit over the other elements of my cane thirsty teacher driven traumatic education journey was not only the little effort which it demanded of me but also the wonderful adventures in the stories that took my young innocent and curious mind to different worlds in between the old pages of those books that carried the rich stench of age.Tough Itestot lady teacher's first topic was polite language and for some reason(perhaps because she personified and was the perfect embodiment of a new fresh inconceivable breed of terror at the time,it stuck.Like the good pupil I was,I have strived to the best of my ability to emulate these ideals ,living my life punctuating most of my day to day speech with dic...

Coy me now baby, be cagey not lady, lie with me slyboots! befuddle me not anymore Irrefutable it is,that you charmingly seise me, gnaw at my heart, exorticate this cold furry and shroud me in anxious grief My candid plea,my bawdy one Forment not chaotic trouble,breed spontaneity take all my souls but Kill not my poor sentient self By George W Kiwanuka

Decades ago, in the jungles not irreconcilably far from here We, downtrodden fauna of the woods, gathered Wrapped in a patriotic spirit we identified a leader, youthful intelligent dog he would stand on and out as a revolutionary... the messiah to bark on,scaring away the hyenas they that had lost their way, plunging us into disease and ignorance-immense lack and doom The dog's role was to bark and scare away the hyenas then lead us to light, prepare the jungle for a new hope-filled world to clean the stump throne on the clearing the throne that alien lumberjacks had earlier created Aliens we had expelled and banished We danced away in jubilation when the revolutionary canines struck and sent the hyenas packing-'warming' the hunt for a while They scorned and scoffed at us-the hyenas and warned us of the addictive contagious plague of its indiscriminate manner of devour politricks Alas, for years as we absent-mindedly danced off to the sunset our dog n...