Earth is a Prison!

Earth is a Prison!

You are trapped.  You are in a cage. You are not free because you think you are free. Many before you have thought that way. I am not telling you stop, no you will be abnormal and insane if at any moment in time you will think you are not free. If you are free don’t let us know. Just be free! Am I asking so much for your craved unclaimed freedom? You don’t know you are free because you think you are free. You know you are free because you experience freedom whenever you want in whatever way.   You know you are not free because you are in prison. A self-exiled thought prison. A house arrest of some sought.  You are your own inmate, you probe yourself, you process the warrant of arrest and you actually arrest yourself. You pulled chain your self idiot.  The moment you realize you live in life closets of dry skeleton bones you will then begin breathing life.

You try to be perfect, who asked you to be perfect? The world needs honest people, not perfect. For the world is full of imperfection. Perfect people are not honest. Honest people are not perfect.  What you portray outward does not necessarily say who you are. You have been pretending all this years to be who you are not. I mean who are you? You think am insulting you? no; I am intentionally provoking you, now tell me who the hell are you trying so hard not to be? This is because I know who you are trying not to be. The more you try not to be the more you are.  You have tried all the short cuts to mean who you are not. All these shortcuts have led you to hell.  But you don’t want to admit this, mhh because you know you are full of bullshit crap about your rights that you never earned, neither do you deserve them.  

You live in a dog house of the ‘my right’ world. It’s like living on the nose bridge while in actual sense you are being chewed and roasted like cow cud in the middle of the night when Mr. Perfect is in dream world of imperfection ecstatic orgasm of your own freedom while raising his middle finger. 

In essence you are this narcissistic fantastic perfect imperfect person. You do not live in the cosmos of time. You can travel in thought any time that you wish to do so.  The problem is that you take so long to come back once you travel.  Please come back to reality of the mother earth prison where you belong .You have never earned your freedom, it was ‘given’ in the morning and taken away at sunset.  Now you must fight for it at sunrise. The true freedom is not free. It’s still trapped, in earth’s prison that is in you. One thing you must keep in mind no one breaks the prison alone. "What surprises me, as a human, is not what dogs bark at; It's what they don't bark at" .Have a freedom day. wont you? 

By  Njoroge wa Ngige 102315-0134

A Case of Mistaken Identity

A  Case of Mistaken Identity

The first place to go when I visit your place is bathroom and then Kitchen. I am like an armed bank robber; you are expected to pay shipping cost even if you made no orders, when I show up. I will run my middle finger on the kitchen dais; point it up to detect dust while my sun glances are still on.  Don’t mind my sun glances at night there are invisible drones gathering information with no warrants of arrests.

I am like a secret agent on a special mission to recover evidence of an old cold case file.  I will stick my teeth and glean at the toilet bowl to see whether I can have a glimpse of my Doncolion fugitive face reflected on the secret camera above.  Any hairs or slippery soaps littered on the sink can and will develop some serious conditions that can develop to dizziness and virtual dents without your insurance cover blown up, absolutely with no obligation.  You will be surprised and cornered by my mannerism of articulate intelligence.  Somehow you would think I pulled at your crowded drive way only a neighbor to alert you that he has nowhere to park his borrowed car for his mortgaged house is on fire.

I will then crush your hired cell phone with my enterprise boot. After all you have all this time labored to live in a cell phone, a self-exiled solitudeness like a psychopath. You have been living on borrowed times in unfamiliar territories of pay check to check. They have hired extortionists to always follow you with undetectable pay day loans agents. They will always be there to strike with no warning and no blood on the dancing floor.  You will die 20 minutes later and no suspect in the scene, for you have been all this long been picked by forensic as a person of interest without your knowledge.  There will be no crime scene for you have never been a victim but just a depository bank that’s depleted before the next pay period.  Now you can talk all you want as you drown in your local pub of sorrows.  A  case of mistaken identity. with circumstantial evidence.   A procedural error which is completely reversible. 

~Njoroge wa Ngige~  101915-2326

The Bloodied Knuckles

The Bloodied Knuckles

Sometimes we hear voices,

Distinct, chaotic or faint whispers,

Sometimes lots of voices or no voices at all,

Why are you calling while I am here?

Why are you calling while I can hear?

Why are you calling while I can’t hear?

You why? Oh! Why You?

 

I am a little upset!

I am not thinking now, leave me alone,

To have quiet time,

A Tranquility of confusion,

How often or very often do you feel that?

The reason why cows chew cud at night,

I lost memory when I made decision

To lose my feelings because I was guilty,

Lost concentration when I was labelled,

A rebel with no course, an ungrateful outcast

A psychotic with no known diagnosis

But a pathology of over the counter medication,

My great pain is your self-pleasure,

I have no plans to commit suicide,

Neither do I have vision to live

Nor vision to leave,

Please do not ask me to come to normal

For this is my normal,

When I crash on the cold floor,

Wondering and traumatically pacing around,

Head batting my soul in the life cage;

Just another number, minding my business,

Trying to control what I can’t,

We will not have problems,

If you understand how wonderful I am

Until you stop barking and packing

Do not pull away, for I never threatened you,

I just pulled the trigger and the neighbor’s gun fired noises,

Push me compassionately,

For I am fragile handle with care’

Please like me like a misbehaved victim,

A situational process, a work in progress

It’s not that I am Impulsive but more calculative,

I am in disorder but not discriminative

I am just a humble determinant that we are all in denial.

Of the delusional reality,

Only God of Exodus Knows.

Original Thoughts By ~ Njoroge wa Ngige~101915-2001 hours.

Ningwaniriira na Kayu ~Sam Ngige~