The Writer's Dome
All literary works by Writer Kevin Murungi that include best of local humor, fiction, poetry and general genre. What's hot by other writers and where to find their work. Find E book sources and various E- stores convenient to you for E- Gadgets!
Monday, February 20, 2017
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Mystery Publishers
Dear Writer,
It is time to expose your mystery fiction! If your work is ready, then it is time to look for that ideal publisher to take it up from there.
In my pursuit for the same end, I stumbled on a list of Mystery Publishers and of course, I,m interested in contacting one of them. How about yourself? Check it out! Mystery Publishers
Thank you
Kevin
Sunday, June 28, 2015
THIS IS IT, LIFE
THIS
IS IT, LIFE
This
is it! I say, this is it!
I
wanted juice, sweet juice,
For
me, life chose lemon,
My
bad! I’ll make lemon juice,
Suck
it, detoxify whole self,
This
is it. This is it, life.
I
have planned, it crumbled,
I
needed to make bread, I dread,
I
got no wheat, but barley,
I
now awn and I’m fermenting sour,
I’m
drunk of it, life, this hour,
This
is it. This is it, life.
This
is it, for I let free,
Let
flow free, life, let flow,
I
gnash no more, but glow,
What
I desire, I get, for I let free,
What
it gives, I receive with glow,
This
is it. This is it life,
I’m
painless no more, but numb,
I
grim no more, high is my thumb,
Life,
I embrace, for I aren’t dumb,
For
I made no life, life made me,
And
I let free, make of it what it gives me,
Life,
this is it. This is it!
Kevin
Murungi
©2015
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Dad, I Love
Dad,
I Love.
I
felt you in my loins,
Heavens
knew ‘ere you were born,
To
you, I will be enjoined,
And
together we win,
For
I love to be your Dad, Son.
I
promise to toil for you,
And
beyond a reward to you,
All
that you ask of me,
I
pride to extract of me,
For
I love to be your Dad, Son.
He
that’s blessed is me,
Thanking
the almighty is me,
Great
is a reward to me,
Great!
You choosing me, Son,
For
I love to be your Dad, Son.
By
Tickler,
Son
of ‘the unquenched’
Kevin
Murungi
©
Sunday, December 21, 2014
This I must know if I Were a Woman for a Day
By tickler
Son of the Unquenched
The conundrum
As
I write this, I’m driven by an urge of curiosity. Attempts to satisfy this
curiosity has in many instances proven futile. I realized I was dealing with an
elusive creature that is a conundrum of what constitutes and makes a woman.
I
have come to understand nature than I do women. I mean, it’s easier to put bits
and pieces together to conclusively tell what the wild needs and wants than
humans in the form of female species. I have come to realize that even wild
animals communicate easily and with all ease in their own terms and gesture
expressing their desires openly without compromise. The language of the wild
and the animal kingdom is what I’m yet to establish. I assume it’s gibberish
but that’s beside the point.
Science
has tried its level best in uncovering what surely makes a woman. Science tells
of a tale of great intellectuals with ability to multitask, grasp and think
better than their male species. Science also believes that she endures pain
than he. A man wouldn’t endure pain but confront it. A man will not endure pain
without responding to the epicenter of the entire aggression thus easily
predictable. That aside, my point of focus is the puzzle that torments my mind
and arouses lots of curiosity. What really constitutes a woman? I’m therefore
tempted to assume her nature for a day and uncover my most sought answers to
points of interest.
How thick is the line between
moods?
I
need to know why it is too hard to put a smile upon thy face and yet so easy to
irk thee. The woman I know at dawn isn’t the same as the one I meet at tea
break. At lunch hour you seem to regain your form back only to assume another
at dusk. What is that switch that dims and brightens your mood? Is it located
somewhere behind your brain, in the ventricles of your hearts, under your skin
or is it just the way I look or what I do and say at any moment in time? I need
an imaginary thickness of the boundary between mood swings so that I can
measure how many yards to the positive electrode before you burn and sulk. I
don’t want to burn the switch. This I would establish if I were a woman in a
day.
Looking good and beautiful, for
whom?
I
don’t wear makeup for anybody, you say. You insist you’ve to wear that skimpy
skirt for this and that occasion. I tell you it’s revealing too much and you
tell me it’s for your esteem and you want to look curvy for me. I have agreed
to your sentiments but I don’t know why it feels so tormenting when this other
man stares at your backside with intent. Is it because I’m jealous or you want
me to? My cleavage is meant for you to see. I have heard this over and over
again. Why do I find you excited when other men peep into it yet you say it is not
for them? I need to know whom do you look good and beautiful for. I can only
tell if I were you for a day.
Why does it take you five minutes
to bathe and an hour and half to get ready?
Before
you get into the bath tub you already had sampled and ironed what you intend to
wear. You’ve tried the same dress severally and instead have decided to prepare
another one. You’ve had it every day and wore it often even a week ago, clad it
on many occasions. Is it because you’ve become a gigantic monster overnight that
it can no longer fit you or is it lacking the attention it had? Is it that
you’ve just noticed flaws of your body that you don’t want noticed or perhaps
you’ve noticed your breasts have dilated overnight and want to shrink them in a
single session while I still remain patient waiting for you? Your bosom and
bums have always been yours and I haven’t seen them grow instantaneously. Is it
the acne or that little pimple at your forehead that needs urgent diagnostic
attention? Have you discovered it today when we are about to miss that
important appointment or just trying to annoy me? I’m thinking these are some
of the things that take all the time. I need to confirm what’s keeping me
waiting for an hour and half while you “prepare” yourself. In a day I must know.
Could “Yes” be a “No” or otherwise?
I
must say your YES sometimes if not most times is not convincing. Why does it
sound like a NO especially when it’s my turn to seek financial aid from you?
Your YES seems near NO. Your NO on the other hand seemingly sounds like a YES
in some instances especially at times when you play hide and seek with me. I
must confess it takes intellectual acumen to see it as a YES otherwise I would
starve of lack of conjugation. I’m managing quiet well so far. I need to know when
a NO is actually NO and when YES is a definite YES. Near NO is what you posses
and perhaps I could distinctively segregate them if I were a woman for a day.
What would I prefer between a skirt
and a pair of trousers?
I
presume a skirt is adequately air conditioned and well ventilated considering
it’s openness above the knees. However, if so, why does it seem like you no
longer prefer a skirt and opt for a pair of pants most times. Is it because the
skirt guts in too much air that you can’t handle? Is it because the skirt could
expose your secretive interiors unannounced or it can’t let you sit carelessly
as you do in a pair of pants? Doesn’t the trouser hurt and squeeze? Considering
your body anatomy below thy belt, I find the trouser a bit disturbing. Doesn’t
it squeeze you and perhaps blister you private quarters? This I must know if I
were you in a day dear.
How does it feel to orgasm?
In
a day, I must engage in a sexual adventure. I would love to feel the phenomena
and uncover the mystery behind orgasm. You look electrifying and yet electrocuted
when you say you’re climaxing. It seems like bordering on pain and pleasure. Is
it a combination of both? If it’s a combination of both, then it sure is a
winning and whining combination on the face of it and the response that I get.
The way you moan and grab my body with your sharp nails like a sprinting
tigress, tells and says aloud that the moment is phenomenon. Why then does it
look like you loathe me at that particular moment and at the same time express
how you love me? I need to peel off the skin behind the mystery in a day.
When are you faking orgasm?
Do
you really cum every time we make love? Do you fake it at times and how often?
You could easily fool me alright. Unlike me, there isn’t evidence to ascertain
if it’s genuine or a big fuss. You could easily get away with it you know. Does
it feel equally pleasurable even when I’m soaked in mud after a drinking spree
and I stink of booze stench? Do you really cum when I forced you into it
without you wanting while you cite fatigue? I really I’m curious of knowing
this in a single day.
Where does it feel pleasurable to
be touched?
Besides
the mysterious spot that you talk about often and which I imagine I touch, I
notice you also are interested of touch in some other stimulating points. My
hands have been cluttering all over blindly. They are just trying to locate the
magical spots that seemingly please you. Please don’t mind their carelessness.
If I only knew where you would want me to touch, then I would gladly comply and
focus there without having to meander all over. Is it your bosom, bums, feet,
face, thighs or perhaps some other place? I’m in a waterloo. Only being you for
a day would solve this mystery.
Between wealth and the man, where
is your love?
You
say you love me and would go all the way with me regardless. Alright, I believe
you. However, from what I gather, my wealth too has to be where I am with you.
Please pardon me if you sincerely can hang for my love. It’s only that what
your friends are doing scares me out of my skin. Why is there so much disquiet
when I say I’m broke and could go bankrupt? I’m willing to make a prenuptial
agreement but I have seen marriages break in a fortnight while a prenuptial is
written. Could you do the same to me? When I was penny less, you denied me but
when I became wealthy, you said you sought your heart and found love. I’m but
cautious. In a day perhaps I would find out where love reigns,
How do you keep such secrets?
I
understand and I have been told you are the most secretive species of the
humans. Science says you can easily multitask without much ado. What’s that
secret you dread telling me? How do you manage to conceal it that long without
being caught? I have tried to multitask with other members of your flock but
you nabbed me before cock’s crow. I spy on you often but my efforts have proved
fruitless every time I snitch on you. Could you be multitasking with one of my
close members of my flock without my knowledge? I’m worried of how many you’ve
got in the sack. By the look of things, several are in it. If I were you for a
day, perhaps I would learn how to and how you do it.
Submission
The
aforesaid ten aspects are my curious points of focus in understanding what
women really want and feel. Perhaps we could treat them appropriately if we
knew certain things like the ones highlighted and probably becoming one in a
day would solve the mystery behind the female gender. My curiosity is not
limited to these. I confess there are so may not put down on paper.
I
wouldn’t want to remain a woman beyond a day though, not long enough to make me
pregnant. I have so much adventure while on this other side of human species. I
fathom better the devil I know than the angel that is elusive and I barely
know. Considering the challenges I hear and some that I have come to understand
about women, I’m enjoying being a man hitherto. Twenty four hours would be
sacrifice.
©Copyright
Friday, September 5, 2014
THE EARTH DIRGE; 'I THE DEFILED'
THE
EARTH DIRGE
‘I
THE DEFILED’
“I that was bequeathed
to you in good order, in the likeness of our maker; I have done nothing but
serve you. I have been of good provisions and I’m of abundance, none rivals me.
Without me, you’re nothing but vanity. You ebb and disintegrate with me. All
that you’ve done to me is disregarding me, and like trash, you’ve made me
tripe. You continue to defy my signals of warning. I want to salvage you and
embrace you like a baby that you once were to me. All still, in vain all my
efforts. You bury your head in the sand like an ostrich and you show me your
posterior self whenever I speak to you of my suffering. What being have you
become because I no longer recognize you as the adorable creature that gave
back to me whenever I granted you of provision?
I was once green,
sprouting of health and wealth. We were once great chums. We cared for each
other and natured one another. What animal have you become, mysterious being? I
know not of what animal you’ve turned out to be because even the animals that
live within me seem to reason with me more than you do these days. All you do
is reap of me and enrich yourself. The resources that I carry you exploit of
them for your good. That’s alright. They were made for you. But then, the pollution
that you generate behind the filthy tracks of your feet as you walk away is
humiliating. You do not look back but continue walking away gluttonously like
the being you’ve become. You leave me for the dead. I feel defiled by you, I
say.
My arteries you gush
and now I ooze of blood. I’m bleeding profusely from the underbelly. I now emit
poison. This I did not create. It is your own doing. The seas and the oceans
beneath me now wonder what I’m made of. They aren’t the fresh cool waters that
they used to be when we still were chums with you. The lilies have dried and I
now hear of hyacinths. The fish no longer live to tell the tale of deep waters.
They no longer have a home and now they blame me. The plankton are no more,
they tell me. They tell me they have a different name, endangered species! The
coral reef is rusty they say and continue to hurl jeers of regret at me saying
I defile their territories. Tell me it is not true what they say about me. I
thought I gave you the authority to reign over me and all that I’m made of as
the creator commanded us to do. I say to the fish, the seas and the oceans,
that I’m vindicated of all that they blame of me but point a finger to you that
call thyself human being. I bleed I say and I didn’t hurt myself but you defile
me.
The heavens are
watching and wondering where all this is heading to. The skies are no longer
blue. They no longer know not what they are made of but who is defiling them.
The clouds are weary and no longer know what drops of rain are made of. They are
pale and run dry in wait for extinction. Then you say I’m mean and heartless
depriving you of the good and pleasurable rainfall that you once enjoyed. I
would want to give you rain people, and the heavens know this all too well. You
deprived thyself of rain and on this too, I’m vindicated. You’re in charge of
your own destiny, human! I’m scorched by the angry sun overhead and I’m about
to go down on my knees, heavy laden and with no iota of strength remaining in
my veins and the crust of my backbone. The ozone layer no longer knows its size
because it now sags like an extra large undergarment!
The rays of the sun
upon me have never been this violent since time immemorial. This time I’m
afraid of what shall become of me. The green grass that covered my body, the
shrubs and the thicket of lumber that surrounded my arteries are no longer with
me. They wither and burn out under wild fires ignited by the angry sun that
emits scouring rays upon them. They blame me of deserting them and say I no
longer provide them with a drop of water beneath their roots. I cannot convince
them of my innocence because even those that I spoke to, you fell them and made
wood with them before I could answer them back. The grass that still struggled
with me in this misery trying to shield me from the sun, you’ve harvested of
it. The river beds now remain bare and barren. The river wonders of the
upstream because all that it knows of is silt and sand threatening to siphon it
dry. I feel I’m losing this battle as long as you continue to disregard me and
defile me. As long as you continue without mercy to reap of me without
replenishing me, I too cannot replenish the granaries for you. I say to you
human, I’m defiled!
I was magnificent when
you were placed upon me. I had plenty to give you and you vowed to take good
care of me like your other siblings. Like you take care of those you sire from
thy groins, your children. East to West, North to South I was magnificent and I
brag not. The North Pole was great and intact and cared what the South Pole was
doing. Now the North and the South exist in their own worlds. The East no
longer cares what the West is doing. They have had a new teacher, a new human
that cares of own interests. The snow used to be adventurous and good for the
eye. Now it thaws away prematurely before winter sneezes for the summer is
already here. The oceans complain of capacity they know not where to keep it
because the volumes are too much for them to hold. They too wonder of their
upstream oblivious of what is happening up there. They freeze and so do the
creatures that call these masses home. All that remains when summer comes are
skeletons, dry bones of what were. I’m petrified and perturbed by horror that
you give me. I’m horrified and I can no longer be of provision to you while you
hold me in captivity.
The lands are barren
because of the chemicals that you churn with my soil intoxicating me and
chocking me with acidity. I’m no longer productive like I used to be. Then upon
me, industries thrive. That’s okay, but the waste they pour over me and into my
arteries is sickening. My crust can no longer hold and support you and your
generations. I can only guarantee you today but tomorrow it’s upon thee to
declare. The smoke coming out of what you create and burn within your
manufacturing plants, makes the heavens speechless. The heavens are in awe
people. How then will they give you fresh rain while you poison their bladders?
All they can give is acid rain if at all anything yields out of them. The
tremors and the Tsunamis that kill your beloved are a result of what you
create. The species of the flora and fauna once abundant are now mere examples
of what they once represented. A drop in the ocean they now are. They too
wonder and ponder of the creature called human.
I’m nature, the earth
that I’m today. A fraction of what I was years ago during my forefathers’ eons.
I’m nature that once subsisted with you coherently and symbiotically. I’m calm
and ooze of plenty when natured. I equally am violent and torturous when I’m provoked
and left to the dogs. Not that I want to hurt you but because I’m writhing and
trying to kick for my dear life. I feel like disowning you and collapsing with
the whole lot of you but I realize the creator gave you authority over me. I
then leave you to declare your destiny, our destiny. I continue to bare pain
like a woman about to heed in labor but with a smile upon her face knowing that
she brings forth a new being. Like her, I shall endure until you heed and yield
for me as new creatures worthy of the name human beings. I need you to nurture
me, replenish what you deduct of me, clean what you trash me with and siphon
while you refill the barrels of prosperity. Salvage what remains of me because
I’m about to deplete and crumble with you. Without me, you are nothing. When
I’m dead, you too are dead. I’m nature and my nature is to punish whoever
defiles of me. My gut is blocking, my arteries carry poison and my heart is
about to crumble. Be warned! Global warming so you call it is what I now can
give you until you choose your own destiny because I’m defiled, human! I have
had it enough human!”
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