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Ekoroi blog and stories celebrates 2 years

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In September 2019, Ekoroi blog was born with the confusing taglines, ‘visibility is key’ and ‘all my thoughts, my life in one place’.

The journey has been great for the poetaster and book reviewer with a weird take on religion and mystery.

But what is mystery if not what is not yet accepted by the human mind?

The categories for this blog has grown by about four to encompass How To, Opinion, Newsbits, Religion and Spirituality.

It would be great that this site be about Book Review only but that is not ‘All my thoughts, my life in one place’. I love mysteries too and the politics of religion.

But some of the best works are not the ones i’d like them to.

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With 442 articles, this being the 443rd one; a lewd one leads the view count by nearly a half a million.

That is followed by the Home Page which comes a distant second; then the BBI Report and its download link. I think I did quite a good SEO on it.

You guys don’t read book reviews a lot, maybe because I focus on what I love, but thanks for the good compliments on some of the books reviewed.

The above reason is why I have to have news and other things on the site.

Nonetheless, as for me and writing

I love the smell of ink,

The tip of pen scribbling away,

the scuffle of paper fighting back,

The mind engrossed to the whole project

I love writing.

2008

Thank you for your greatness.

Follow me on:

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Facebook: fb.me/ekoroiblog

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THANK YOU

 

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Phasing out

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Sometimes we prolong our suffering by choosing to live for things we never intended to live for in the first place.

Sometimes we prolong our suffering by choosing to live for other things, rather than those we chose, in the first place.

Sometimes we prolong our suffering by embracing things we never really intended to in the first place.

Sometimes we prolong our suffering by making ourselves blind to what we are supposed to do.

Sometimes we prolong our suffering by choosing to do things that we didn’t have to in the first place.

healing

New horizons

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Life isn’t boring,

Repetition is life, and that’s what’s boring

 

We enter joyfully, cry, then laugh, cry again and feel loved,

then we encounter pain,

Pain, a longing of the hereafter, the one we left at birth.

 

The hereafter. Who even knows if it is or was great?

but we long for it.

Deeply within the base of our brain, we long for the past.

Cheated out of gods, we trudge aimlessly across the earth, Herman Hesse says.

 

But our duty is for the distance before us,

We lie to ourselves about new things unfolding,

It doesn’t feel like so, but we long for the future too.

 

Those who push forth, break new grounds,

It is not always grandiose, but pain opens new worlds.

 

New worlds, keep us alive.

The one who is ready to lose their lives, breaks new ground!

Breathe.

 

Mountain nostalgic sun

tell me about it

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Tell me about it,

that good place, that belongs to me

the one that keeps appearing in my dream.

 

Tell me about it,

this great feeling of relief, a longing

finally detached from the cares of the world,

no pain, no remembrance of past

 

Tell me about it,

when am calm.

Tell me about it,

when worry passes through my nerves unnoticed.

 

Tell me about that good place,

a place just beyond the horizon of my mental gaze,

tell me about that good place,

a place that belongs to me, yet I have never been there.

 

18th April 2021, 11:41 a.m.

Change

things

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things we are used to, change,

they change as time goes by,

time makes things strange

Crown

a moment in time

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Am on top of this high mountain
Breeze caress my temple
My head is light
Am happy

At the end of it all,
Everyone loves whatever they do
This is the feeling you must cling on with your life.
It helps in moments of sadness

On my high mountain I can judge, the world beneath my feet,
In times of drizzling rain,
I think of the departed.
The thoughts clutch on me,
Like a prostitute on a high paying client’s dick,
No escape.

Seductive words of gods,
Whom I accuse of neglecting their duty,
When the departed needed it most, makes tears roll down my cheeks

Anyways,
Petrichol bites my nose
The scent of renewal.

A king ascends to his throne long denied.

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Meandering into the future

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My step mum,
Held scissors tightly in her bloodied hands,
Her face spoke of hate
She cut my wings, in a dozen places,

Clipped. I run away.

The stranger by the roadside whispered
‘Don’t worry,’ as I tearily looked at my bare back
‘they’ll grow back’, he added

I smiled.

22 January, 2021

Lake Victoria overlooking Homabay Town

The suffering of Atieno – Part 1

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Your heaviness weighs on me,

Like a rough nam lolwe water on a small engine boat.

Anxiety!

 

The waves slap the shores with hurried mischief

Most think about death, the fear of it

But me; I think of you.

 

Five kids in tow,

Crossing the lake on a dark night, in a small boat

To a further land that might not have shown you mercy.

 

The mother-hen very weary but determined.

But I can’t know your thoughts,

Your thoughts, when you have to beg for support that never came.

 

Am slow,

I could only dream of my own things,

Never attaching to your mindset, didn’t understand your suffering.

‘if I meet you I’ll remember you’, I replied prophetically when asked if when I grow up I’ll remember you.

It was a moonlit night in a land far away, forgotten.

Pulpy tomatoes and Ugali was the menu

I couldn’t grasp the pain, the lack.

 

This night in Mbita is dark,

I’m alone, broken and lost…

Pain and tears

(It’s like the first time I fled Nairobi, to the place of parched plains
Where my dreams fondly casts)

I haven’t been treated well!

From my hotel room;

The only sound is waves slapping on the shores.

A bit calming,

Raaaacha, softly

 

I try to imagine your suffering, oh Atieno.

 

I cough and fear,

There’s blood in my breathe,

I rush to my good morning syrup and vitamin c tablets,

The age of darkness is here.

 

Argh, I don’t care!

 

This hope I carry within me,

Ignited by strange things, that only seers can fathom.

I’ve entertained thoughts of going away for long.

 

I haven’t been treated well!

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A place without which I am not

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I hurriedly pack my bags, for in the morning time I’ll need to catch a bus to the lakeside town of Homabay.

Homabay the place of my mother’s birth,

Her appendix was buried here.

A soothing place of waters and lands separated,

Scattered like the thoughts of gods.

This calming breeze from the lake takes away my breathe,

It is here she first breathed; without which I would not

For me, it is a plus, a great getaway from the bustling Nairobi

It gives me ideas of going away for long,

A missing person’s report.

What was it that led me to part with a lot of money; to no man’s place

A land so deep in the waters where people hesitate before venturing

I braved the deep pale blue waters to reconnect

With the spirits of my ancestors

The calming sun that rises over Nam Lolwe

Sending brave rays over the great deep for sustenance

The waves slap hard on the boat’s body; sounds like a hammer hitting plastic.

pa-ta! pa-ta! pa-ta!

Will I be lucky to have fish?

What was it that you fed me at night?

Was it mbuta or ngege in Mbita?

I enjoyed it.

The world continues…

 

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