SAVED BY THE SPIRIT

Boredom drapes me like the dark drapes the skies.

Sleep evades my white widened eyes.

I must remedy this before i reach my demise!

I wake from my cocoon,

In search for a distraction.

Something that will quench my overwhelming boredom,

Or at least numb my situation...

Off to the kitchen!

I open the magic box that turns on its own lights,

Search from top to bottom for a dissuading delight.

And behold what stands before my sight...

FOOD!!

I NEED A DRINK…

A SPIRITUAL DRINK!!

Am on the brink of destruction,

Spontaneous combustion,

Please call me for a drink SOME ONE!

I scroll through my phonebook with utmost urgency,

Hoping to find someone with needs as me.

From 'a' to 'b' then x,y,zee...

Oh my god the agony.

I grudgingly walk back to my confined little space,

Where i try to convince myself that this is my fate,

Then i get a text that lights up my face!

"Drop wat ur doin, hse party at my place".

I get my things ready,

Jump into my Suzuki,

Drive so fast that even Lightning has nothing on me!

Lights, bloody traffic lights,

Please turn green already!

Ok, now am at the party,

Breathing heavy,

And standing right before me is a plethora of beautifully placed intoxicants...

I cried!

Waragi,gilbys,

Different sorts of whiskeys,

White mischief, black mischief,

Teasing me so gently.

Eyes wide open,

Mouth agap,

Swiftly am whisked away to pick me a cup.

1 swig 2 swigs 3 swigs 4,

Am done wit those ones,

pass me some more.

Slowly I transcend from this to another world,

One where everything is perfect and pavements are made of gold.

I see a lonely damsel she seems to be cold,

Remember, am drunk, ergo, am bold!

"Excuse me, do you mind if I tula wansi,

Am sure I could tickle your fancy.

Tour you like Kampala city,

Hit the pot holes as I drive you crazy."

If you know what I mean…

...she slaps me

...

But am a man,

I grab me a cocktail,

And as I scope for another female

I swig it once twice thrice,

And at this point I can run on thin ice...

So I step closer,

But my conscience begs more liquor.

If I don’t drink,

Perhaps I wont be able too talk to her…

Back to the reservoir!

I turn in search for that other sumptuous chic,

But damn shed disappeared like a freaking magic trick!

This is impossible if you know what I mean,

I feel like that boys to men song…

Girl in a life magazine!

But ah, who cares,

I have my drink at least,

Let me just sit here and enjoy my spiritual feast!!!

Black n White

Extract from Facebook page:

Once again i would llike to thank everyone that attended our last meet(17-05-09) at the Theatre in the green room. As expected, there was a grand scope of deep poetry both simple and complex oonce again prooving the point that deep does not only mean complex.Our next meet will be this Sunday (31st-05-09) at the National Theatre. This time round, we have a theme. The selected theme is 'BLACK AND WHITE'. Please remember, there are no restrictions to content, idea, writing style etc. Basically, feel free, go wild and express yourself.Also remember, it is not a must for everyone to write...just come and enjoy poetry!

my first time

I remember my first time,
she softly asked: 'would u like me above you,
or do you want to be between my legs?
I hesitated,
didn't know what to say but from what friend said,
between her legs was the best way…
so i sheepishly replied...
'between your thighs.'

heaven knows how anxious I'd become.
I had waited far too long.
her hands were gentle and soft
and when she first touched me,
my eyes closed and I was lost.

stroking each and every inch of me,
taking me further to wonderland...
god damn this lady's hand.
when I opened my eyes i saw bits of me that I'd held onto for so long
fall in slow motion to the ground.

then just like that, it was over,
bringing me back to reality.
but for that brief moment…
i was in ecstasy.

when done, i stand up, clean self', and pay up.
just before i go through the door,
i look back,thank her, take a long look back at her…
and at my hair on the floor.
my first kololo haircut.

Check it out...

We just concluded a meet themed "Poverty".
Interesting, intriguing and definitely amusing; showing the different faces, causes, views and paradigms there are to this socially crippling evil.

The lantern Meet just concluded its inaugural Poetry Recital. which went beautifully if the comments are anything to go by.Unfortunately the pictures are still coming in, but stay posted. I believe Sam has better and more pics that we will put up soon.

extract from facebook group page, check it out for more updates, info, pics, member lists and more!

Update

Hi

What it is?

This is to thank you very very much for joining us at the previous meets and to give you a little insight into the Lantern Meet of Poets.

The Lantern Meet of Poets is a society of young writers with the major objective of restoring to Africa the era of Great Literary legends.
In effort to begin this journey, The Lantern Meet set out by inviting the public to enjoy poetry written by...who else but themselves.

African culture, like many great traditions of the past, was very rich in poetry that was expressed through song, verse and rhyme by which the history of
tribes, stories of the heroism of legendary warriors and society’s norms were passed on. It was also used by famous poets like Okot p’Bitek to tackle
several burning issues during the days of Africa’s self-rediscovery after independence.

It is a paradox, therefore, that there seems to be a great aversion for poetry especially within the current generation’s educated bracket of Africans.
This problem can be traced to secondary school level where poetry is often presented to students as a very complicated form of
Self expression/communication, rather than as ‘the art of communication that involves use of the best words in the best order.’
This makes most students- including even many Literature students- avoid it altogether. The result is that most people do not get to discover and/or
develop their talent for poetry. The few individuals with a real appreciation of the art find themselves isolated, with no one to share their passion.
They too eventually give it up. Thus the Lantern Meet of Poets.

The Lantern Meet of Poets has staged two (2) public poetry recitals that took place on the 16th of August, 2008 in the CICP room and on the 30th of January,
2009 in the main auditorium both at the National Theatre. We plan to have our third public recital in August 2009. The specific date will be communicated.

The Lantern Meet of Poets meets once a fortnight at the national theatre from 3pm to 6pm (when people keep time...please keep time). We request the poet to have their poems typed out and their name (author’s name) left out. This is done to minimise biases during the critic.

We have two kinds of meets. The themed and non-themed (open) poetry meets. During themed poetry meets, a theme is communicated to the members who are challenged to write towards that particular theme in whatever perspective they choose.
It so happens that the next meet (3rd May 2009) will be themed and the theme is ‘child abuse’. Please remember that we do not restrict you from thinking outside the box. You may play Devils advocate or Gods light!
During the non-themed poetry meets, the poets bring whatever mix of poetry they choose to.


Again, we would like to thank you for attending our meets and hope to see you again at our next meet on Sunday 3rd May 2009 from 3pm-6pm.


For more details you can contact the following:
Guy Mambo-0782451218
Jason Sabiiti Ntaro-0712815895
Pasi-0711163492
Ojakol Raymond-0752447509

I want to have sex!Yes you heard me….sex!!
Not emotional filled soft easy melodyScented candle love making.
Nah, Just rough sex,Biting necks, clawing at backs, tight reaps, long ass buffalo skinned whips
Wrapping and ripping my skin to bits.
Bodies raining a mix of blood and sweat,
No feeling of love or emotion
But of pain and aggression.

Intimacy minus intricacy,
That’s humanity.
We have bred a society of emotionless bodies
Take a look and you will see just what I’m saying.

We are dead to emotion,
we are dead to passion,
But we are alive to all things that bring death to this nation.
We’ve got troops in the Congos, got troops in Iraq,
But tell me a little something,
What exactly do they bring back?
Freedom for the people that are chained without trial,
Or food and comfort for the parentless child?
We’ve got rape victims that have been left out to rot,
And murderers lurking in the light of day knowing they wont get caught.
So why rally for love making,
When all emotions gone and all reality is hostility?

Thousands are dying,
millions of mothers starving so,
billions of children crying.
And all this coz we slaves to the metal and copper and the ink stained paper.
The needy are being suppressed by the greedy,
Politicians politicking
Keeping the masses sensitized
With empty lies
Disguised to fool the wise…

Instead of protecting the minds of the innocent
And raring them to be the breed different
We force feed them on the supple nipple of Corruption
Till them and the ill are made one.

How can one keep the country clean
When all this filth fills and flutters in and around the city
Under the guise of democracy?
How can we claim to be free from tyranny
When we live in a land of anarchy?
How can we sleep comfortably in our bed at night
When there are little girls Lurking in shadows in fright of their “new uncles”?

Fuck love making…
I’m sticking to hardcore,
Triple x porn fucking!!!

the nether-lands

I close my eyes and gaze thru the window.
The clouds sink lower,
Darkness engulfs the light,
Nothing is visible,
Nothing is sight.

The roads r dull,
The grass is damp,
The boots i once wore,
Now ware my soul down.

i take them off,
But my feet lack nature,
So I stand still and prolong my future.

The hurricanes have made bullets of sand,
these pebble r no longer part of this land.
So i stand in a river flow of salty water,
While selfishly,
Soft currents caress my current state.

It rains 2nyt,
Blurry vision so again no sight.
i look to the sky
As the skies tears wash the evil look from within my eyes…
.