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BREW MY ICE:the sketches of perception grow.

Am almost smiling in contemplation as fingers begin the sketch and tap through pad,together these little motions bring a flawless flow of remission.I am but almost elated as the memories trickle down into my heart and tap right into my fingers.

In junctures as such, tears tease the edges of my eyes as this feeling most often than not leaves me overwhelmed.Overwhelmed huh?From what you may ask and as always you are allowed to question even my trail of thought dear PePa treader,or should I call you reader?Reader is Oh so obvious and leaves out the actual part where you always tread the path of sketches with me.Faithful companion you have become and so valued a treader you are.

A moment in space I must take as a deep,long and reassuring breath calms my nerves back to the reality of day.The reality of grace and love all compounded into a tandem of beauty.

Before I get caught up in my sketches and forget we are going through this together,allow me to bring you up to pace of where am coming from by sending you back to a prior post that sure links to this.Remember BREW MY ICE:The sketches of perception?Maybe yes but if not,please find the link BREW MY ICE and let us flow as one .

So here we get to continue on my almost perfect evening but that can only be perfected by a recap of grace in action.

Beautiful Wednesday morning and work is great,I wont say as usual cuz truth be told,we don’t deserve a thing we have but God through His unending love has made us custodians of the same.Thank Him since my plans for this day were aligned to His good,perfect and pleasant will…A sure glorious 27th date of August as I often put it.

Dave my all time buddy gives me a call while am busy at the bank teller’s.I pick up gayly and he asks if we still on for the even.”Why not daddy,”I quip and he replays the itinerary as I remain cool.My work for the day as at this time seems all but done.All heaven aligned this day perfectly in my favour as even the bank queue isn’t one to cry foul about.

We was to go visit a buddy at the hospital who had just had an operation.They called it a minor surgery,these doctors:what is minor about your belly being opened up,things inserted and then thread and crooked needle takes place of flesh?A complication with their lower abdomen led to a successful cyst removal thankfully.Sounds all simple huh?

It is 5pm and we are slugging through the renovation clamped Nairobi hospital trying to find a parking spot.We have like an hour to visit the invalid and all seconds left seem to be running out.Finally we get to a doctor’s parking and don’t look me evil in the eye cuz I parked right next and not on their spot.Am sure I would have taken it if another spot hadn’t showed up though,just my questioning nature that is,so allow me to enjoy me.

I can’t help but notice all the expensive cars carpeting the parking lots,I mean all these brands are executive and luxurious if my taste and eyes serve me right.We sweep through with Dave as he teasingly tells me I should have been a doctor or married one.

Quite a discussion for another day if you ask me,I mean I tried to date and hopefully marry one but flopped miserably.I guess I couldn’t keep up with all the scalpel,catheter,tumor and all those medical jargons.Maybe I was just a pathetic lover,who knows?Maybe we will never find out the truth after all,hahahahah…..Thank God I learned to be a Haw in the ,”Who moved my cheese” tale.Sorry if you don’t get the joke but you have to read that 33-paged story of who moved my cheese,it could change your entire life you know?Or maybe it came to me just at the right time in my life;coincidence?If you ask me I will say God has all my life planned and I just love how He plays out the dice.

A strong hospital scent hits my nose and almost throws me off balance.I have never known if it is the scent of patient gowns,the detergent they use,the whole aura of hospitals or the scent of medicine that normally puts me off.To think that I even wanted to practice medicine is laughable at this point.

Quite interesting however how immune or better still unmoved by wounds and cuts I was back in lower school to the point of being a St John’s captain.I think time has a way of realigning us to our fates and ultimate purpose in life,right?Just smile if you agree.

Hoping we are still on the same footage,we pass through a series of hospital corridors,getting lost into dead ends as the renovations have done quite a twist to the whole arrangement you know.Eventually we get to our patient’s ward and they lie so blissfully on the raised bed you would think they was never operated on.With their folks around,manners must be on the tips of our tongues and fingers you know….

My day wouldn’t be any better than to see a friend lying safe and sound on a hospital bed after a successful surgery.To add to the joy is the glam of close friends surrounding her bed.Oh and doesn’t this hospital look and feel modern…you would almost want to get that care daily.The kind of care that makes you not want to heal so you are treated like a baby all the time;that feeling of getting everything you want on a single call….Not till your friends eat all the muffins you was brought on your sick bed,hahaha…..

Dave picks up a call and the communication seems hushed and intense.I can almost read into his facial expressions as he signals us to shush so he can hear more keenly.Quickly finishing up and making sure our friend Kez is doing well,he signals that we have to go.I ask him what’s up and he says we have to be at the Aghakan hospital along Limuru Road as soon as immediately……..

Catch the next sketch to know what happened next……

PePa.

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MINUTES: The sketches of time.

Three minutes past midnight

All this is such a delight

See the sketches fall into light

As each tumbles upon like as though in a fight

Only they glide and sync into like with all ease

Ease easefully into one another to bind in wrap

Wrap the pencil sketches into pepa sketches

Sketches of pencil hence fluid into pepa sketches

Pepa sketches juice with flavour hence into life sketches

Yes it is now 7minutes past my mid of night

A sight to behold as sleep says nay to sketches of perspective

A perspective that holds still the desires of the heart

The heart I must admit mostly sways to the swing of desire

A desire to lose self into wake of the moment

A moment only pinned and aligned in the fluidity of truth

Same truth only captured in moment of time

A time so vivicious and vicariously viewed in a void unveiled through various vibrant and almost ferocious but vividly sketched moments in a vicious sketch of vivid volatility.

11 minutes past my night in the midst of a midnight hour.

A moment sweet in feel and cool in taste to my waving senses of touch and lustre….oh that my lust may not last to the last of this 13th minute in past of mid just after night sets mood for my soul.

A tik in tok sure gets my pace into the 15th in a wrap of minutes to the tune of 12.

Yes twelve in completion of a midnight.12 completes my race in sketches of time and cups my perfection in thought.

15minutes past midnight and Pepa must rest to face another day of grace in a beauty of dawn which pains off the doubts of Yester-sorrows with a promise of morning dew.

PePa.

WRATH OF THE TITANS:sketches of gods and demigods.

In ancient times the world was ruled by gods and monsters

But it was the half god Perseus,my son,who defeated the Crackon and saved humanity

For his courage,I offered him a place to rule,at my side

But Perseus was strong-willed and chose to live a different path.He vowed to live as a man.

Even when fate took his wife,he would not pray for help from me or the other gods,and now the time of the gods is ending,and the son of Zeus can not hide from his destiny forever

PePa.

DON’T LOOK BACK:sketches of yesterday.

See the clock ticks off…I hear the silent motions

Almost unnoticed,in the wind of my hair’s ends

That soft whisk,and wave through my spine

Draws me back to those moments

 

Moments I could almost lose

If for a split second without impulse I let that wave flow off

Yes it glides under my nape

And crawls back to my chin

Almost in tandem with my existence

As wave joins with my heart

 

Nostalgia grows immense

And I almost fall back into the trap

Trap of this facade so beautifully illusioned

By their constant pull and tag onto my being

 

Before I get lost from self

I must fight to stay afloat

And win this race only meant for me

For as long as I got breath i trust God has given me strength to win this race

A race often faltered by weakness and regrets

Almost looking back and losing sight

 

Then I am reminded that sight saves no day

But faith I have to win it all

So I draw from obvious and into the realm of truth

Where fear holds no water but faith controls it all.

 

So the wave fades off and God’s comfort becomes my refuge

All fear is waded as hope gains root.

 

PePa.

CLASH OF THE TITANS: sketches of myths.

The oldest stories ever told are written in the stars,stories of time before man and gods,when titans ruled the earth.

The titans were powerful but their reign was ended by their own sons,Zeus,Bissaiden and Heidis

Zeus convinced his brother heidis to create beasts so strong that could defeat there parents.And from his own flesh,Heidis gave birth to an unspeakable horror,the Cracken.

Zeus became king of the heavens,Bissaiden,king of the seas and Heidis,tricked by Zeus,was left to rule the underworld in darkness and in misery.

It was Zeus who created man,and man’s prayers fed the gods’ immortality.But mankind grew restless and began to question the gods and finally rise up against them.Into this world a child was born.A boy who would change everything….

 

PePa.

THE DRAPES OF LIES:Sketches from a toilet seat (POEM)

It busked in promise

That allure and burst of warmth

Warmth wrapped in laces of lustre

You could almost feel its glide through the palms

Those never ending evenings of romance

Preceded by endless chats of love and yearning

 

And then familiarity krept in

Heralded by that most familiar ambience of disdain

Borne in a scent so pungent

You wondered what happened to the promise

O so familiar in careless words of always

 

The same always that meant so much

Now is nothing but another lie

A lie I would have wanted to last

Not till the warmth became my prison

Four walls would do for so was your empty words of love

Ribboned in frails of tenderness and a breath of sensuality

 

Same breath that now chokes even the very air around my wake

Let alone the life out of me.

 

So no,no to this prison of lies and words without meaning

No to this allure that life has no point without you

No to fairytale stories of forever and never after

For in your lies I found my truth and in my truth you missed your lies

A mix of true words bound with no lies to lace

 

I found me rocked up than I thought was even possible

Spiced with a drape of fire and fired with a spice of strength

So here now I know me,untethered by lies with no ends

No Longer laced in an embrace of deceit or lost in a brace of fear.

 

May you find you just as PePa did.

 

PePa.

 

BREW MY ICE:Sketches of perception.

Brew my ice I heard but through my eyes she meant.The whole difference between reality and perception lay right before our eyes but how often do we give it a moment?Say a second in space or time as I have now become accustomed to saying.It had been ages since I sat right at this spot as I was today.Last I ever came close to such a feeling was when I was doing CLASSICS:the sketches of love.

Sitting in this almost African homemade plastic stool and hearing the jazz buzz back and forth,swaying through the wind in my ears is total arousing nostalgia to my withdrawn soul.In case you want to read more on Classics the sketches of love,be sure to click and find it here CLASSICS:the sketches of love.

Last I was here though was a blur of noise and heckling of persons,both young and old.It was a beautiful sight to behold and space upon which to be found.It was packed with a frenzy of happy go lucky fit of diversity.I must admit time sure has its toll on everything.In others it heals,in others it breaks but in both cases what really matters is your perception and take of everything in your wake.So no,today there is no actual THE SKETCHES OF DIVERSITY:tales from a coffee shop.

The mood today is sombre as the deejay of the day must have been paid well and informed that this has been a total downer of a week for all folks.His jazz is mellow,almost soothing and caressing to the ears.I almost miss being in love,lying by the beach swinging on a hammock as this deejay’s jazz lulls me into slumberland.

For a moment the sweet soothing jazz almost makes me forget that am in an open smoking zone.Not that I mind smokers,especially from a distance and mostly the end of a ciggarette stick dangling seductively on a woman’s well manicured fingers.Note,just from a distance though.

At this moment,even Beyonce’s Halo song in jazz is welcome music.Never been her fan ever since this crazy crash on her died when I realised I was in Africa and she on the other hand was not only out of Africa but way out of my league.Not that I don’t have my good lines in my sleeve but hey,we talking big pockets and all you know?Let the winners take home the prize for now and humble us will spectate and cheer em all up.

Well,am no hater in any way but I just love knowing my position in life and enjoying it while it lasts.For now hence I will recline into this African homemade stool with plastic fastenings and enjoy the ambience and calm these dim yellow warm lights and jazz instrumentations trickle into my soul.

I don’t know why it took me so long before actually visiting this cafe but truth be told,absence sure makes the heart fonder;same reason why even lovers need a holiday and break from each other to want and yearn for each other even more.I ain’t no love doctor really though David my Master friend calls me doctor,a name I have become accustomed to.

My heart sways in peace from all in my space and beyond as memories trickle in with warmth.Takes me way back to the 27th day of September.This was supposed to be Hellena’s,my friend Louis’ birthday but what transpired was another whole narration.

I thought I had seen an end and extreme to God’s beauty and surprises but what happened then becomes the mother of all miracles.

I must admit over this period I have been away from this favourite cafe of mine a lot has happened and coming back acts as a good fortune and reminder of God’s goodness.Picture this,a span from heartaches to rediscovered and rekindled loves and then loss of the same,a span of depressions and reawakenings and the most hilarious yet amazing are the leaps and bounds of God’s love pouring upon me in waves I have to duck not to miss His greatness!And so it all boils down to our perception of every event God sways our way.

Allow me to wish you an amazing evening and blessed night,or should I steal the Barbarian in gentleman’s clothings line?He says,”Long days and pleasant nights”….if you want to read more from him you can follow this link barbarian .

Remind me to narrate the miracle of Louis’ son and mama in another upcoming sketch as we see how amazing the sketches of this life can be.

Till then,peace from PePa.

PEPA.

I CALL IT REDEMPTION: the sketches cry out pt2.

To enjoy this read more,check the first post I did called FROM ONE SCARRED HAND TO THE OTHER IN the sketches cry out pt1 HERE

Cold sheets grab my feet and thighs in an attempt of caress but no,all that feels like an intense struggle as I toss and turn for comfort onto my chest,side and back.Feet curl back and stretch forth in a wriggly attempt at sleep.Sleep that I have looked for all night with no avail to same.

It is five in the morning on a rush towards six as dawn races to get rid of the immense dusk and dark that prevailed against it the previous evening.An exchange that always seemed seamless prior to my current consternation.Lately however,it all seems like an endless tag of war,no,not a tag of war but basically a battle of the titans with all harm befalling the innocent civilians.

Innocent civilian in this case I should have been but in retrospect was I really innocent as befits the eye or guilty before charge?Maybe I will live to answer that question another day but till then allow me to make my pillow my point of solace if not utmost refuge.

Refuge from what though you may inquire but truth be told,in this lost and broken structure that I am in at this point of space I am no good respondent to any questions.Let alone questions that put me in disarray or make me feel worse than I could possibly be feeling.

Yes feelings,aren’t they the core essence of existence?of decisions and judgements?Of nations and rulers,of uprisings and battles?Of marriages and conflicts?Oh,I hear someone tell me that I am wrong,that all I have mentioned is controlled and determined by cognitive judgement….Okay,I once heard someone mention something like,”Let us agree to disagree”…never really known what that meant but right now,in this high mile or deep pit that I am in,I feel like using that phrase,”So please let us agree to disagree.”

My sheets grow colder against my feet at all night has been a sweaty affair of writhing in pain across my bed.If you are wondering if I am sick or something,no Pepa reader I am not but I am aching within as pieces after pieces of me rip away.As my Kenyan brothers would have it,”Sijui nasikia aje lakini siko poa!” whose direct translation would mean,”I don’t no how am feeling but am not okay”.

The very essence of my joy seems so far drawn from me and even the shell that held all integrity in place is all but disposed.Here lies an empty space in time for lack of reason or shell of existence.Here lies a man lifted high in the promise of a bungee jump and in place of a life saving anchor,the very rope that held his promise of hope got ripped from its hold to rid him of any life left to hold.

So the very rope of hope that held him hence becomes the core castigator of his imminent destruction,in his high jump that life-saving rope drags him down to the very base of the river….woe unto him if it is a water fall rapid for even the last breath can be drawn away by the happy waves…in this case with no promise of happiness.

Time rushes by as I linger into the depths of pain wondering and asking thousands upon piles of questions of hows and what ifs plus a myriad of whys.Questions that a specialist,bystander,onlooker or even you Pepa reader could have answers to but in my state I need non of.

The pain builds as dusk gives way to dawn and that beautiful ray of sunshine that sure brings hope takes over.Takes over my surroundings as my heart remains adamantly cold to any promise of hope.I am supposed to get up and be ready for work but even as I slip out of my sheets,knees,oooh my knees,what did I do to hurt your feelings also?My knees give way and I slump to the floor due to lack of strength.

Tears well up the edges of my swollen yet so tiny eyes.They are at this point quite totally drowned in my sorrows and pain.

In days past,it was an almost scriptless routine from bed and down onto my knees then prostrate for devotion but today,this day,…like in the impulse my cognitive perception had lost all its nerves..I couldn’t curl up my lips in prayer,rather they so easily creased up in formation of tears dripping from my broken soul.

All that counted were my basest of feelings and raw desires.No,not any lusts or gross intents but all am thinking is how this cold icebox where my heart used to be would just pull off.I know just the right medicine and drug for this kind of feeling.At least for that moment I thought I knew it.I mean,I had watched many enough heartbreak movies to know that a cold pour of shower water would always wash away all hurt and pains however deep it bore.What I din’t know however or remember for that matter was that all movies were scripted and directed but my heart’s hurt was real.

And again,why do we feel pain in the heart area while the mind wonders in thoughts yet it is the mind that decided to get us to this point?

I remember before dragging my heavy now body to the bathroom,I had made this earnest prayer that if it was okay then God would just take away my life if not my pain.I never knew or even thought that at this point I would be worth any value,I just din’t want to be,I din’t want to endure the pain and depression now caressing my every edge and portion.I could see her literally grip me by the throat and tell me how worthless I was.

Depression,she had no mercy and grace was never her portion and I felt her hurl my body to the wall,pick me up again and stamp me under her feet.She din’t feel anything feminine,she felt like Goliath himself going up against that little Jewish lad clad in a brass helmet and netted vest,holding a spear that was shaped like a weaver’s beam.He on the other hand just like me had no weapon to match this prowess but faith in heart and a sling on the other hand.Only advantage he had over me is that he could see his adversary while here I lay in mine’s grip without even knowing I was in the grip of utter destruction.

So painstakingly I dragged my heavy, wary, almost crushing being into the shower and opened the cold water.I wished it could wash my hurts and sorrows down the drain buy woe unto me.The cold of the water bit harder into my skin.Almost like it was dicing up my flesh to add pepper to hurt literally.It felt worse as that promised relaxation found no home within my soul.In its place however more tears boiled from deep within as memories of her caresses and kisses came flooding my yearning heart.

How could she,why did she?Was I that unimportant?Was a goodbye too hard to curl up?Was she such a coward to face and tell me the truth or was I that vile to not deserve even a little honesty?These questions became the doom of me as the wounds of my now brooding infirmity lay open for the vultures and flies of doom to scavenge upon.

As the water that promised solace failed to drain away my sorrow I contemplated connecting the live electric wire to the draining water but this scared me more than the ailing heart.I turned off the tap and taking a towel to dry off I look into the mirror.I wanted to see the bewildered look of a broken man,one who mattered not to the world.Yes,I wanted to see how ugly he looked before I could help end his misery.

In the mirror however what I came face to face with I will never erase off my mind.In the mirror I found the bloodshot eyes of a once handsome and impeccable young man.One whose smile always left most in mellow.I stared deeper into those eyes and there these beautiful words formed,”Son,you are beautifully and wonderfully made,before you were in your mother’s womb I knew you,I formed you in the secret parts of the earth …..”The same voice went on to comfort me in ways I knew I din’t deserve.

At that particular point I saw no horror of a broken man but found grace through the mirror,in the comfort of a real father….He went on and called me son.He told me a tale of love and hurt and at that point I knew I was loved and felt no hurt like His.

I found redemption when all I wanted was a freeing and release from all this pain and depression.

Wanna read what dad told me?Find the sketches cry out in FROM ONE SCARRED HAND TO THE OTHER HERE

PePa.