Monthly Archives: April 2019

Sunshine Blogger Award

And this beauty goes ahead and nominates me for the sunshine blogger award,am hiding under the carpet in joy;

This woman is an amazing and avid poet and most talented to say the least.

You would enjoy poetry if you din’t initially love ’em(speaking for me and you)

I must admit am not so good with rules but with this honour I have to work at it


1 Tag the one who nominated you

2Answer 11 questions asked

3 Nominate other 11 bloggers

Now 1 is done,let me try the other two(sweating on the palms now)

1 what is your perspective in life?

Life is a beach,you either saunter the waves or watch them from a far,what you do determines your destination and joy.

2 when did you discover the blogger inside of you

When loneliness struck me and solace was found in PePa

3 what is the best thing you feel about wordpress?

It is word press,want an honest family ,find it here .

4 what are the types of blogs you would love to read or write.

Well,only blogs that make me smile,think and want to be more.

5 Name two of your favourite books

Caught me off guard .Wait for it….hahhaha I don’t really read books anymore.

6 What advice would you give to new bloggers?

Write out your heart,it doesn’t matter whether anyone reads it or not,someday you will go through your own blogs and smile.

7 How much does social media affect your life?

This much,can you see it?Yes exactly,I thought so,not at all.

8 What is your biggest priority in life?

To love without condition.

9 Which famous personality has inspired you the most?

The K F C founder COLONEL SANDERS age and time has nothing to do with it,you do.

10 What is your dream job?

Always wanted to be a doctor till I discovered I din’t know how to be patient and to love enough… Now I just want to live life to the fullest and discover myself every day

11 Define happiness to you

Happiness,I wish it had a definition…truth be told,it comes in small pockets and moments you have to stop and enjoy it as it comes.You can never attain to it like a degree.

My nominees1 http://humanityliveson.home.blog2 http://sparklingthought.wordpress.com3 http://drawingclosertochrist.com4 http://thekindtempest.com5 http://savvykenya.wordpress.com6 http://inspiringyourbestself.worpress.com7 http://nomadwriter.home.blog8 http://whenanintrovertspeaks.home.blog9 http://fabwritings.wordpress.com10 http://bigskybuckeye.home.blog11 http://theintrospetcivescribbleronline.wordpress.com12 http://thesoulsynthesizer.wordpress.comYippee!


YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE:Sketches of gratefulness.

When I had nothing you still heard me

When I had no strength you were my strength

When I was weak you gave me tears

When I had nowhere you gave me a home

When all my friends ran away from me you stayed the same

When I had no words you gave me words of praise

When all else was lost you reminded me that in you I had refuge

When I had nothing to hold onto you held me by thy Righteous Right Hand

When I was in conflict with myself you brought help in the counsel of close friends

When all was lost and the ground beneath me gave up to consume me

You O God stretched your hand down to sheol to bare me up

My tears did not ware you out

My mucous in pain was not too filthy for you to clean up

You proved yourself not once but always

Even in your silence you did not forget me

When I was encompassed all around you lifted me up to safety

To a spacious and wealthy place you lifted me

Yes and now in joy you give me tears,that wash away all the sorrows

That I can see the pain no more

O there is nothing I can give in return

But stand in awe at your presence

I have sought all names to give you

But you created all names

But there was non found for you

So you said you are who you are

Nothing can describe you my God

Allow me to lift up my hands in praise

And may you dwell in the presence of them all

You are who you are

You are the Lord God Almighty

And from one scarred hand to the other

Your son washed away all my pains and my sorrows

You are who you are

To you be all glory,praise,honour and adoration.


I BELIEVE:The sketches of transformation.

I believe I can write and hence bring something to once an empty space.Like fill all these broken lines with words creating beautiful fluidity.Just like an artist takes broken ceramic pieces,lines them patiently together binding them with glue and in others adhesive conta for strength.Slowly and one by one a once hole of dissertation beautifully transforms into a museum of art.

Yes,just like an architect picks and open ground,previously devoid of life but filled with the garbage of human frustration.In some areas buzzing with flies amidst compost and human excreta.He toasts it upside down and from thence creates an arena booming with life.

Better still,I believe I can write the pages of history created by persons not heard before,only felt from the strength of their actions.Let’s for a moment not think Adolf Hitler with his ambitious death revolution.I look at it more like a genocide for lack of comprehension.Or better yet,not Nelson Mandela who preached oneness in Apartheid-stricken South Africa.

Forgive me for not thinking Martin Luther King who fought not with fists or cavalry for the liberation of black Americans in the US of A.Instead he did it with words and eloquence.There are many more known and unsung revolutionaries not mentioned.Yes,I have utmost respect and adoration for such great persons who had dreams,woke up from them and made them into realities.

If I may retract to self,I now come to terms and understanding as to why dear tortoise retracts into her shell,most often thought for protection but rather for comfort and peace of mind.Here in myself I find this great urge to pick up Pen and Paper and pour out my desire for a positive energy flow in a spit of ink.I believe that the universe will sure merge its energy with mine in this call for an open heart and eye.

Yes,alongside my reading and unreading society we can for once look into the depths and perils of our society and together maybe,just maybe we can bring a brighter difference into its brokenness.

Yes,I know we cannot fix it all in a day but just like these sketches of mine,together with those of the architect or even of the artist we can from nothing piece up a masterpiece.

A masterpiece that is a society that has a heart.A people that don’t look at a broken little girl struggling to make it through school,devoid of finances.These same people being in a position to assist but rather than being pillars of support and giving a helping hand,these same pillars become the evil ghosts and monsters that crushes her to naught.

This,they achieve with ease and without a heart by taking advantage of her only prized possession,her beauty and flower,her sexuality.Wasn’t there a father,mother or even sibling who could hear them out and report these heinous acts?Yes there was but all frailed and pushed to the wall by lack of a say….

Better still look at this little street kid who in the morning rain comes to your car window,as they stretch out their fragile hands,requesting for alms or something little to buy them food.You roll down your window and answer them,”What do you need money for,shouldn’t you be in school or working?You are the same boys who rob us around!”

Did you for a moment think about engaging the little fella in a conversation,in process trying to understand where they come from rather than implanting these negative thoughts from your mind into their minds and hearts?Well,did you even imagine that maybe they aren’t orphaned but could have just run away from this same monstrosity from whence they came from and here where they sought solace find you?

That maybe just maybe,this same little boy might have run from a brutal dad,who on mistreating him the mother had no say but to keep quiet and let things be.He finds himself helpless and has to be saved by the very legs God blessed him with?

Maybe they needed someone to listen to them,yes just maybe…like this isolated case I met in traffic Today,interrupted by the flow of cars.

Yes I believe that with these broken sketches that is our ailing nation,we can look beyond the corruption of day and be the very persons that heal that heartache.That together and with hands clasped into each other’s we can walk the difficult paths less trodden upon and there sing a song of unity.I still believe that even with our very own broken and ailing finances,we can spare a little and share with those who in most cases can make do with only little essentials and can’t grope for the extravagance that we call riches.Oh I believe in you and I,that we can write and change this story.

Yes PePa,I believe.


IN MY DAYDREAMS:The sketches within

In my daydreams I drift into the far end
The end unreachable
I reach into my dreams
And there discover my insanities

Yes may sound sick
Each of us has them
We only choose to ignore

In ignorance lies no salvation though
As with each passing second the truth finds its way
To the surface of reality
As clarity takes form

So here I sit..right by my sketches
Side by side we embrace
And find our ghosts herewith.


THAT BORING START:the sketches of me.

It all started one evening,I was bored and needed some juice up the drain,I mean,something that felt different from my daily routine.

Guys speak of 6 to 6.I guess I was the 4am to 8pm kind of guy.In other’s lips I was an actual go-getter.The kind of guy you would introduce to your dad with pride.Tell him how much of a hard-worker this guy you met was.Your beautiful seven kids plus the one you are now expecting would never go hungry so dad you have to understand why I love this guy.

Did I just mention you met?with seven kids and expecting another lil bastard?O PePa,you must find me crazy at times am sure.As I scratch my head I lose me too into moments I din’t quite get the full breadth of what I just said.

So here I find myself just like most others have before.Nothing special about me however,truce to tackle though is that I am on a path of discovery….seven kids and now I am discovering myself,quite laughable I must admit within even as I scratch my now balding head.

Balding,turning 31 in a few days and 7kids to my elbow.I mean we weren’t quite that huge of a family you know?And this right here plays ball to the expansion graph.

Someone help me here,a graph that rises in Mathematics or better still in Commerce was a good graph,right?

So why is my graph perceived as absurd at this point?I mean my nuclear graph….O boy!


WORRY LESS:sketches of life.

Don’t let the pressures of life eat down your soul,all that you ever have and drain all the essence out of you.

You are not your flesh but the soul within you.When you worry you have all your energies to the world about but leave nothing within you hence you do not live.

Stop worrying and start living.Life begins with you,when you realise that God breathed into you and not into the world.


FOR THE LOVE OF WARMTH:Sketches of an attendant pt2.

I remember a friend once briskly told me that as you grow a little older so do you learn more patience little by little.

I am seated at the corner of this rather deserted restaurant,or maybe I could call it hotel cafe,I honestly don’t know which is which save for the fact that I’ve been seated here for quite sometime now.

You would definitely wonder why am complaining yet we breeze into cafes or restaurant joints to sit and maybe have a drink or two..of what,that would be a choice better left to the persona in question.

Well,that is exactly my point,I calmly walked in,this attendant was by the cash desk when I did,smiled at me and made me feel very welcomed.

I go on to look for a place to sit,naturally though,I would expect him to show me a seat or ask me where I would love to sit,albeit pretentiously,a gesture to which I would feel honoured by,smile and say thank you.In short he would have made me feel like the most important person even though am coming in to spend only a few hundreds,hundreds that would soon turn into thousands with regular visits prompted by hospitality.

Well,this little welcome gesture I would have overlooked if I din’t have to sit down at an empty corner table that was unclean from its previous occupants’ departure.

I can be quite petty PePa but you must be sure used to me by now buddy,huh?But please help me understand why after sitting down at this unpleasant table

  • (note however,I picked it as the view was quite something to say the least,I love looking outside at people as they each attend to there precarious whiles,cars hooting at others and others scratching others,angry commuters and pedestrians alike and most often you won’t miss a pretty face pass-by that will sure warm your stiffening heart)

So why must I rise up again and go call an attendant to come attend to me?the repetition of attend and attendant being quite obvious at this point…

Yes I rose and went hailing the attendant who seemed quite chuckly and sorry at the same time,what for am not sure as I am not even offended at this point,just bewildered in amazement.See why people get in and out of employment every other time?Poor service is the answer….

I am a sucker for good service and my motto says,”Serve me dirt but please wrap it in love and I will take it home and make sure I tip you before I leave”

When you bring the water bottle to table,please ask if I would love it open or closed?Is this too much to ask?I mean,let us have a silly albeit healthy conversation.Exchange stupid niceties that mean nothing to us yet so much for the soul….

O lady in red,here you walk in and find me in the middle of my ruminations,O you have no idea how much pain you saved these attendants Today.You are late but they have helped my patience in waiting for you.


PEACE &GRUMBLE. #reflections#lifesketches#choices#

The easiest outlook is a complaint

In times of turmoil as the heart grows faint

A grumble may come out quite smoothly

As on the surface it quietly grows

Deeper still it is a drain

A drain from which I dread to tread

Though tread would seem like a saunter by the beach

Or better still a brisk to yet reach

The gardens yonder in the cool of afternoon breeze

So my tongue for now I choose to hold

Still as complaint may escape and fold

Into treacherous twists and the heart make cold

Cold as nights that stray into winter

Winter for now at bay will I keep

Hence peace in place of complaint may sleep.


WHAT MEMORIES?::The sketches of love.

He played and she played.She was her mother’s daughter and he was his father’s son.She was pretty,even appealing to look at.In biblical times they would have named her Ruth,which typically means good to behold or look upon.

Instead,they named her Cindy.Maybe at that time in space that was a most popular and almost classy name.He on the other hand was called Dave,thank goodness it wasn’t Kevo or Bryo which in current times is equivalent to Heart-breaker….not my sentiments though but society’s,my current society.

I remember making fun with a pal called Kevo the other day,told him I would let him near any of my priced possessions save for near my sister.He laughed and walked away cursing me.

They,Cindy and Dave played out near the mango groove,just like little girls and boys do,hand in hand,leaping together,running,jumping and all.He would help her climb onto the mango trees and she,being the delightful tomboy she was did it all enthusiastically,almost to perfection.All to the delight of Dave who for now had gotten a perfect play companion.

Sometimes it amazes me how we humans crave companionship.Right from that suckling little babe to the old crouchy man leaning on his walking stick.Animal instinct I presume huh?

The suckling babe for instance would bite painfully on their nursing mother’s nipples the moment she diverted her attention from it.The old crouchy man on the other hand gets grumpy and almost sickly the moment people draw away from him.

Presently though,Dave,his father’s son and Cindy,her mother’ daughter got dirty in the soil and tore their clothes among the rough mango branches;all in the name of not making Jack a dull boy without play.

At the front porch however walks in this middle to almost old-aged man,a pineapple in one hand and a chopping knife on the other.Chop chop he peeled off the pineapple husks and rendered it all yellow,smooth and juicy .

“Cindy,”he called out,sliced off a portion of the pineapple and with the tip of his delicate knife handed her the dripping juicy pineapple to eat.

Naturally however,Dave had come along at the call of Cindy.He looked on with anticipation hoping that he too would get a slice.The mid-sun above burnt sore and from all the play,he too was dripping with sweat soaking into his tattered shirt now clinging to his back.His shorts were not a beauty to behold either,half cut shorts roughly ripped at the edges and all stained with mud and green leaf stains as well.

The man ate the remaining pineapple,must have been 3/4 of the whole bit.All the while,Cindy’s beautiful brown eyes darted between Dave’s expectant eyes and the man’s rugged face as he ate on.

She warily ate her portion and by the time the man finished and got up to go,she hadn’t finished eating.With only a small portion left in her wet hands,she looked sadly at Dave and handed him the remaining piece.Did you know that the last portion is normally the sweetest in any meal,drink or fruit?

The man gathered the scattered peels together and roughly threw them across the compound.He then wiped his cheeks and mouth with the back of his wet hands and walked off,disappearing into the backyard without glancing at Dave even for a moment.

Dave,painfully though,took the portion of pineapple Cindy had offered him from her slender fingers dripping with juice and thankfully ate it,all the time staring to the ground with a gloomy face .

He then looks at Cindy with a tincture,albeit,of pain in his eyes,tells her he has to run back home before mama,not daddy comes looking for him.She comes towards him and hugs him quickly then says bye.He runs off back to his parents’ house.A humble place filled with warmth and love of a family.

Later on that afternoon however,Dave is writhing in pain and has tummy pains.He is rushed to hospital and diagnosis shows he must have eaten something acidic,most probably a fruit.On further studies,it is established pineapples do upset his tummy,unbeknownst even to him.

In his mind however,a man treated him with contempt denying him a pineapple,making him feel like trash and not of any human value.A little girl who had not even enough for herself however offered to share the last but juiciest portion with him.

A memory he can never erase from his mind.

Dave is now older and can afford a cart if not a lorry of pineapples dropped to his backyard and men to peel it on his behalf but no,instead he hates pineapples along with the memory they bring.Unknown to me,I had earlier on offered to share a pineapple I had gotten from mum and here he comes with this sad tale from his childhood.

What memories will you leave in someone’s heart or taste in their mouth today?

Love one another even as Christ loved the church.

Blessed Easter.