olderunwiser.blogspot.com

  • Masons

    Posted: January 14, 2010, 7:12 am by Njeri Tunguru
    Building thatch houses
    Praying that the wind won’t blow them away
    Trying to make them accommodate as many people as possible
    Hoping that the thatch houses won’t break
    Building thatch houses...
    And even when they crash, we find ourselves building them again.
    Same location, same material, same technique
    Same hazards exposed to the thatch houses
    We still go on.
    We still build them, thatch houses.
    We never learn.

    Building thatch houses.
    Why?
    Maybe we just need to feel useful, important.
    Maybe we just need something to do, to keep us busy.
    Maybe we feel that we need a home,
    That the thatch houses will someday become home.
    So when the wind blows them over,
    These foundation-less thatch houses,
    We get blown over too.
    When people break them, these thatch houses,
    We break too.
    But we still start all over again.
    Fixing the broken walls,
    Mending the windows,
    Re-attaching the roof,
    Building thatch houses.
    Same procedures used.
    Same mistakes made...

    Building thatch houses.
    Crashing ourselves with all the effort.
    Tearing up, sweating...
    Not caring.
    Not learning.
    Never learning.

    Building thatch houses.
    Even though we see there’s no substantial end that’ll come from them.

    We need to stop.
    Building thatch houses.
    But will we ever?

    ©Njeri Tunguru, 2010.

  • Why.

    Posted: January 11, 2010, 11:55 am by Njeri Tunguru
    Purple rain
    Pink foam
    Bleeding heart.
    Bleeding heart.


    Cold eyes
    Straight stare
    No smile.
    No love.


    Nothing exists.
    Nothing exists...
    Only pain
    Only hurt


    Only she.


    She knows.


    ©Njeri Tunguru, 2010.

  • Hide and seek

    Posted: January 11, 2010, 11:35 am by Njeri Tunguru
    Hide And Seek lyrics

    Where are we? What the hell is going on?
    The dust has only just begun to fall,
    Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
    Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
    This can't be happening.
    When busy streets a mess with people
    would stop to hold their heads heavy.

    Hide and seek.
    Trains and sewing machines.
    All those years they were here first.

    Oily marks appear on walls
    Where pleasure moments hung before.
    The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
    still life.

    Hide and seek.
    Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
    Blood and tears,
    They were here first.

    Mmm, what you say?
    Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
    Mmm, what you say?
    Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah of course it is.
    Mmm, what you say?
    Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
    Mmm what you say?
    What did she say?

    Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
    Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
    Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
    You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

    Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
    Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
    Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
    You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

    You don't care a bit.
    You don't care a bit.
    You don't care a bit.
    You don't care a bit.
    You don't care a bit.


    Imogen Heap.
← December 2009 (3 items)

Blah blah blah

Fish cakes

Alas a fish cake.

Yet more fish cakes

Guess what ... yeah ... fish cakes.

The end of the fish cakes

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