That’s just me…

Christmas is here…duh…time to drink eat get fat or morbidly obese if you’re  only just obese and make resolutions that you know full well you will not achieve. Time to pull out your happy face and “play” and act “nice” to those relatives you dont like meeting. Time to validate your inner spendthrift with the excuse that its the season to be generous. Well, you are entitled to that but I say fuck you and your lies. Frankly its all just a croc of shit if you will sit there and lie to my face about how you miss me and wish me well. I would rather you be real and throw me in front of a bus. But that’s just me…

Santa Claus…the fat guy who cant say no to the bacon grease left in the pan. One (gladly) we as Kenyan kids knew growing up definitely could not go down a chimney WITH a sackful of gifts. If he is real,santa should go to the gym…eat a stick of celery and instead of harassing the poor flying goats( reindeer) should think of jogging. But that’s just me…

Dont let me get you down,as always i’m just rambling. Get your party hats on..drink..fuck…get fat…but most of all for once in your miserable year be happy for a change. Just like me….

Dont drink and drive tho’… Jesus would probably cuss you the fuck out of heaven…and make sure to use condoms…unless you are okay begging for change to feed your bastard child.

Merry Christmas. Get Fuck Faced 🙂


Such is life

The moon is a light skin cousin of the sun thus only seen at night, ferociously dressed in white setting what is apparently (very laughable to me) a romantic setting. Sitting outside Chardonnay in hand he leans closer to her neck, the scent of her perfume, tantalizing, arousing, appetites of lust and sexual malnourishment flood his body, he leans in. He is good..he knows what to do. He stops a hair-length distance from her skin..he breathes out slowly allowing the warmth of his breath to engulf her hairs.

Her nails, into the grass they go, deeper, and deeper as the lust lashes her luscious body. He licks the nape of her neck, toying with her desire, summoning the darkness inside. the first drops of a stream begin in her crotch, twin peaks, two of a pair on her oh so glorious peaks fight for release, the constant brushing on her brassiere making the stream flow steadily. He pulls her towards him,close,just close enough to say…”Move out by the end of the month”….

Yes it was her landlord.You totally saw this going a different way…you need

Picking my brain…

These are just my own ramblings…thanks for reading my first public post..usually i only blog for companies and not myself. That i do in a diary. So ,here it is…From my eyes



The child cries, the flies fly,

shitting, spewing, unending germ laden streams,

humanity passes, glances averted

invisible,caring in-feasible,

zooming in, lens focused

poverty tugs your shirt,

shit on your silk shirt,

it smells and is dirty,

like crushing a roach you kick it away

oozing wounds, pleas on wood,

spare some change,please if you could,

disgust and pity, but cant part with the kitty

a torrent of feet rushes past,

the Colorado almost bursting banks,like,

deepen wounds and cut up scars

breastfeed her, let the nipples get sucked,

no milk,no food,starvation perhaps,

what future is there, none i can see,

for the child on the streets with its family.

Capture a moment, 12 megapixels,

auction it, maybe the pic sells,

poverty is all you see,i see

selfishness and absurdities,

isn’t it odd to see,

the photos of poverty

yet in our odyssey, the ship has sailed

a future,our future,their future

as promised to we?