poor man's dream

woke up today with mixed feelings, you ever wondered why the good die young? i know that's just a saying that most people roll with...but clearly i was caught up thinking, why do bad things happen to good people.
i once had a long talk about life being unfair with my mum's as she be the one person i break bread with, i had just had a pretty messed up day and nothing was making sense...i would have used a better word to describe exactly how i feel...but due to the young readers out there...i would not be the one to corrupt their clear speech. anyway i was complaining about the cruelty of the world and the good life up on the green hills that the unholy live, by this i mean the unrighteous, but then remember let the one with no sin cast the first stone, so i don't judge people....yeah i ain't that holly my self...i only live by the mercy of the almighty.

Basically what my mum answered back was straight and pretty simple, why do some babies get born blind or with disfigurations. i guess i got my answer straight.

Yo if you ever have one of them messed up moments...hate and curse your life, call them the mid-night hours...cause every second passes, time will change events, plus you could look around you and see how lucky you are ...i bet your life is way much better than you think it is, don't curse God, thank him for your breath and health.

poor man's dream.

Lost sun is a poor man's dream, they love to hear me speak, i pass hope to these breed, in the sick life they live, my metaphors lead and spread desire to the short minded MC's cause i tend to bring out reality through the words that i speak, rhymes i spit effortless like riding a bicycle with no hands.
I can't explain these thoughts, i guess God given, my life in a nut shell, be magnetic, genetic, plus astropolific, i kick rhymes on the streets walking, miming alphabetic, at times im lava like when spit comes off the top, always on reality always on point,born with the mic tool stuck to my hand and still i aint never used it.

Sick thoughts, the world feeds me with these sick vibes, this life treats me cruel, so check this why am i alive, i was raised by the world like the jungle to kid Tarzan, i live it full, my mother's love keep my heart beating, hip hop words keeps my spirit alive, God grants me breath, so clean and free no doubt.
So i live like the angel Michael, shine bright, the planet sun, lost sun on his own universe, look at the earth from afar, way up above, neglecting the violent political talks, the poor with constant landlord knocks, fat men on green hills with wicked grinns just a streach away.

This is to all my brothers living the poor man's dream, keep your hopes and walk with your head up, i still wake up with a smile on my face, spread my wings wider and manage to walk this paved reality fitted with red carpets.

Word. i wish life was simple...wake up and just smell the fresh air and hear the simple charming melodies from the birds...and ofcause the warm feel of the sun in my face.

Stranger within me.

After the long introduction in my previous piece to my first love the union that can't be broken, i thought i would jump ahead and put down this piece, i basically hate routine so I'm not going to give a footage bit by bit in a sequence like a boring soap opera...rather thought to skip as my brain commands as this is not my life story but the actions inflicted by my brain mentality so yeah...now you understand, biographies should be dedicated to our brains...like we should actually give our brains names. half of the people i know have named very weird parts of their bodies that I'm not at discretion to mention due to reasons better known by Microsoft.

This piece was one of those random moments a friend gave me a dare to describe or bring to the surface, or better yet explain to explain who lost sun is!! this got me by surprise cause honestly i don't even know, like i never knew or thought about it...so the time frame was very short , actually non at all, she went like picture your self spitting a free style, now just use the pen as your metal tool, the mic...the lost sun came up with this in a nut shell.

stranger within me.
A billion years back since the blast, lights flashing at night to haunt me, haunt my dark past, still lives within me.

Since creation, we was all made, since declaration i was great, thoughts that creep on my conscious, the real me, i wish to see, i want to see
can't explain why i was born a boy not a girl, was it my destiny or just a scientific happening?

These strange things, metaphors that be stuck on my lips, strange beings that walk up to me, that surround me, seeds we plant in gravel paths, only to wish for a better out come, the screams, we so often hear, cry of joy maybe, or tears of sadness, whenever one dies , another soul is born, in split seconds the sick cycle, the fateful trend continues.

In a mixed personality i exist, in an own self created universe, stand in front of a mirror, my reflection binds me to a skeleton that has a mind of it's own, words i speak only make sense to those who digg deep, you need to look behind the curtain to understand why it was torn when Jesus wept...for every piece has a reason, so i fight to finish the puzzle of life before life it self consumes me. never to realize if it's wrong or right, so i ask should i hold back my thoughts or prophesies, these writings that fill my cubicle walls, my own future in a master piece picture, sold it for a dollar to an artistic artifact creature who posted it next to a mona Lisa,

As i was told I'm the writer of my own destiny, i believe the king of my own world, a blessing to those ears that hear and off cause adhere, manner to those i break bread with and finally a god..for my father is definitely one.

Peace.

space language-word play

Hip-hop at its best...universal brain taut pass shouting beba beba, next stop be mars...The red planet. We speak clear so we don't get mistaken, super galaxy heroes...Uplifting spirits even in space. These minds amaze the untamed space aliens; we change their natural color and train of thought now we suck intelligence through airspace waves.

I even got Santa a new gizmo from the future...now all them kids gonna be happy this Christmas.
My brain works in parables, you better hope it hits your air waves...it's a total blessing to the ears that hear and adhere, I’m full of futuristic metaphors compare me to that inspector Gadget, my back pack skill filled, like a third degree burn unmistakable....sure this is a foreign language so don't judge me, just compare my skill to that taught over centuries, that's why i walk with the Excalibur easy...i was there when they pulled it off the ground..Like masta ace says...it was beautiful...bring terror to ignorant minds. Talk of my culture and the hungry kid on the Nairobi Street...hoping for the next hand to nourish his stomach needs.

Nothing but word play,mix foreign metaphors and bado endelea kuangusha elimu hivi (swahili-still continue to drop knowledge like this).any language, signs could make better sense, fingers to express, smoke mostly to stress erase...independence given to those who believe in it, still chained are us who seek help from the IMF and what not, books that don't instill but brain drain, politicians who take and give back only on Sundays...the struggle of the minority, slums build up as car importation goes up, half the time my mind goes on auto pilot...i still can kill this piece without permission...

To my readers, this was a clear word play. the beauty of words, self expression is important once in a while, the mind needs to breath, so let it....take time to scribble down random thoughts, mostly if you have a writers block, it stimulates the mind to explore, venture and create syllables.

Peace out.

Skeleton past that don't fade off.

Life,

People often wake up,and continue with the normal every day path or some call it routine.i call it negligence...what is missing in the few words you just read,many ignorant minds are already complaining that they would rather be watching a sitcom or a fiction movie just released by the Warner brother's.

So getting back to the piece at hand...waking up in the morning,its not really up to us,there is nothing obvious with the daily routine as others might put it to wake up and see the bright daylight the rays of the sun,the wonders of the birds singing or your usual next door neighbour waving...that is for those who have the Pickett fence type of life.

But clearly we all should once in awhile take time to thank the creator for our breath..life or whatever makes you happy.if you pray to Allah, you a Buddhist, Indian with all your shrine power,there is still a higher force that leads,that protects,that basically keeps your whole being intact.ignorance is bliss....understanding is knowledge,the gift of brain power, the literature we stumble across,the childhood teachings from our old folks. before you judge my grammar my shady notation of words understand the thought behind it and i will clearly take criticism..or better yet pick a pen and scribble something in a foreign language.

Skeleton pasts....the past life,the child hood stages and growing up and all that,wonderful times,makes me want to replay the Wu-tang song-can it be all so simple.
I sit back writing this piece that will make zero sense to half my readers, it's actually a life reflection...call it the Matrix effect or just a simple de javu.
This piece is all about my past, life is a transition you cant have a future without a past...your past greatly affects what you call your present and might for some affect their future....in case you are running out of Internet credit..you better load up...where i come from we be doing the net on cyberspace basis, that's like a shilling per minute, slowly getting cheaper though.technology at it's best.well lost sun still believes technology is gonna kill us all one day. that is a different piece all together though...the apocalypse is here though!! next piece.

So i done met a lot of different cats and niggarettes in my journey on this land...remember the basics of my writing, my first intimate moment with music, that was a sweet moment, like the first kiss, they say you cant forget that! well i couldn't forget that first encounter with music.
grace full, simple illustrations, basically beautiful...for most they would not understand why all the fuss, its only music, to me music has always been a way of life, as vast aire says music is a breath of fresh air, so i can introduce the by stander i used to pass everyday on the street corner on my way from pre- school. this cat was blind, excellent with his rusty guitar,he had a small kid next to him...his son i guessed.
As time passed i came to get to know him we could chit chat till late hours, got a beating from my mum's though when i came in late.He once asked me what i think heaven is like...i was like 6 at the time, sounded crazy and weired, told him the land of milk and honey,next was him asking me to describe the feeling and the atmosphere in writing, he was sad though as he new his son was never interested in the art his blind father possesed. The regretted why he had been cursed with the task of taking care of a blind man all his life, basically i felt he thought all the joy, childhood games and the experience of being a kid with no responsibility just passed him.Odhis was his name(Odhiambo- evening in the Luo context), he was like 14 years old. and i could understand his state of mind.
I started spending more time with this blind preacher...i felt like he was educating me more on this worldly affairs than both the school and church, i guess the only sad part was that his son didn't know how much knowledge his dad possesed.

This guy took me through politics, the natural way of life and the basics of living...for him life was simple and the strangest thing he ever uttered to me was he actually felt blessed to be born blind. i never came to understand that.i got to write alot of different pieces, culture in a 6 years old perspective, still felt real to me. the simple day to day life, the neglected rooster that used to wake the whole neighbourhood up. writing became apart of me and the love grew with time like fine wine.
The guy on the side walk instilled lessons in my mentality and i looked at everything differently, i wondered how he could be so elemental with no sight..vivid descriptions and a straight sight conscious expression..
It was till when i changed schools and my route changed, stayed for a week without having a session with the by stander, at last the weekend was here, lovely Saturday morning, got ready with my well sharpened pencil and my scrap thought book, it was dirty and wrinkled up..still loved it,as it was my greatest world possesion at the moment...i had written so much during the week, i wrote about paradise,the life after,the beautiful land, the land of the pleasant, i saw everyone in one level in heaven, peasants walking as kings,no diseases no blind people..no cars but stars in the sky,beautiful tunes only by the best skilled artists.at some point began to understand the beauty of no sight.its a kind of make believe heaven where fantasies come true and life is what you make it, simple and basic.

Excited, running with my scriptures held in a tight fist fold,i knew he would be pleased with all the pieces i had written and the understanding i got from it, i got at the usual spot but there was no sign of the blind by stander...looked a round till i decided to wait for them to show up.sat down on the stoop....the sun was dead scorching, i could feel it in my bones...fell fast a sleep.
woke up late,with everyone looking at me weired,nobody bothered to ask me what i was doing there, they all just gave me a strange disgusted look...it was getting dark though,no sight of the two.had to go back home dissappointed.
Well went back there for a couple of times, but they was still no shows...we had to move to the big city, but i loved this little set up we had.on the way out of the city, from a far i couldn't believe my naked eyes...as what i saw was Odhis strumming his pap's old guitor with a crowd of people around him,the best part was he had a contented smile on his face.

I guess the by stander had moved on, i bet he still be stringing his cords up in heaven,as for his son he must have seen the beauty of the art just too late,but still managed to capture it though.
That was the begining of my unstable mind, raised with passionate questions to every existing element, everybone in my body sychronised as one, with a brain that is universal and its the past introduction to these poetic world, that flamed out the lost sun...the skeleton past that don't fade.