MY BOOK OF SAD SONGS

Would go to all the lengths to search for all my memories to put all of them here but I may have my fingers red.

Maybe not all the people in this world are not supposed to be happy.Life may be as fair as this .

I have tried and I will still try to lift myself up because I don’t need to delegate it to any other person.

Betrayal of self ,hurting of self and helplessness as I see my soul floating in air with no direction.

I ridicule it that I need to wait for days when I will wake up with a clear mind.

Crysome town

There is place where lovers go,to cry their troubles away……for Ricky Nelson, it’s called lonesome town.He adds that in the same town ,the streets are painted with regrets in one of the lines.

Going by the same narrative,the one for the optimistic but have been let down and tried several times and get the same negative results ,it’s crysome town.In the same town of broken dreams ,the walls are painted with red blood dripping from the heart.

Times hit so hard to the highest note of sorrow that the tears can not fully express the feeling despite the heavy oozing of them from the farthest point of the eye. Maybe I should put my defences nearer to win the battle between the tears and the feeling but the lord of Hosts has not given me the grace.

The only aspiration i comfortably set each day is to pass through the day in one piece.I must add that before the a thousand ways to fail at the goal,I fail before being keen on the first one.

GOOD RIDDANCE LOVE

Does it really matter?
That I have to call you more often
Maybe why voice will soften
As I try to call your name
Lift my soul in prayer just to catch your eye
Whilst an aroma of affection stinging my nose
Emblazoned in radical flames of redefinition of self speculatively rooting in you
Spuriously ,having my worries burnt and banned as a potential future splashes through.

Never mind, it’s deception
It’s really harsh to find me nestled in a firm gnarly of disbelief
This uncomfortable spot full of empty and spurious confidence
It is more frightening, only comparable to death ,oh my it’s a mess
In my dreams ,a tiny soft palm caresses my cheek as smiles sharpen the daggers that plunge deep as I really wonder about your being mine some day

I flow and overflow in the power of procrastination
Each time I think of saying what I really deserve to tell you.
Indeed mindful of the spirits I will get possessed with as get drunk in this sad feeling
Wings of hope cut to miss the sunset of a smile from you

Grandma told me never to quit
For the joy of persistence is exorbitant
However the wrath of ugly realities set in each moment
On the whims and fancies of failure to call you mine I ride ,
To the darker world of melancholy confined to a destitute.
Until then ,valediction to your love world from me is in order.

Weep my Country

Dear dad ,
It would have made more sense of I didn’t have to deliver this small letter to you posthumously.This exiguous letter in which I weave a tiny truth about the mystery of life without you.

The sonorous voice whispers that were a fine smoothie of English and vernacular to make the finest smoothie of a message conveniently thrown into cecity and regretful oblivion.

The ebbulient promises of peace, development,inclusive systems, respect for rule of law ,constitutionalism etcetera.
What happened to all these.

The cost of living is exorbitantly high in the face of skyrocketing prices.Albeit Vapulation and clogging goes following those that dissent from the notion of those in the golden Oligarchy.(Rulling Class)

Political Intolerance is the sour goblet that is sipped from by every one as those with the red berrets can not co exist with those with yellow berrets.What happened to values like love,mutual respect and concern for others.

Worries boil immensely when high profile murders happen and no conviction is secured.
When these happen ,the victim is every one whose hope for living the next day is put in jeopardy. It’s a bullet for the rich and the impecunious like me and you eargely wait for an iron bar.

The electorate has less trust in the leaders they shoot into power as they are sure that the leaders will gladly somersault against their plight after a party caucus.

The eyes and ears of society ,the media commits a grave transgression to report on the torturers, corruption and other unfairness in society and risks loosing broadcasting licenses under the heavy weight of minimum broadcasting standards .Hello UCC!

The young people whose plight for taking the leadership mantle to answer the questions that haven’t been answered by the golden Oligarchy are imprisoned incommunicado in the shanty dungeons famously known as safe houses. It’s a natural double jeopardy for where we can’t find them in dungeons,we can ably locate them on the streets looking for jobs or else in a betting shop.

The external debt question is a mind boggling one that may incidentally imprison all of my siblings.It will be rant I must say but pointing out to all these issues is signal of reminder to all of us ,children of this house to handle these problems because we all know their solution.

Rise above the pedestal to inspire more young people, out grow and leave freshly in our minds as children of this house to always put you first before self .

Dear daddy Uganda

Writes your sorrowful son.

Am at the time when I find my forlon soul falling under the heavy weight of guilt when I reminisce all the incomplete stories that I have always used as a yardstick to judge others. My heart pounds relentlessly when I see myself throwing my humility into wanton cecity about those I have judged and held my biases in high regard for them.

The usual days when we have conversations that plunge deep into our souls to have us feel less and bad about our selves are here. I continue to feel harrowing about all broken marriages and failed relationships.I emphatically postulated that patience is key in all relationships and therefore Rema had to wait a little longer for the husband to have their marriage issues ironed.

At the point when the argument gets so heated with a plethora of arguments each intermarrying into another to climax into happiness for Rema as she moves on to a new hubby.One of the formidable ,people embroiled in the argument makes an rolling twist of the entire storyline.

“You are single,you are a penin What do you know anyway about marriage?”

Dossiers of laughter swept the stronger arguments I had made earlier prior as no one felt I had something to say however right or wrong I was regardless of whether I made sense or not.

Suicide Note

For conscience’sake my heart and mind are fully immersed in tears my.Tears of guilt continue to leak from the thin edges of my heart.

I would call it pishogue for and but due to phobia of underrating it,it is much more bigger than it .My heaviest surreptitiously kept skeleton is weighing me down in mind.

My run from it is not yielding ,despite my consistently said orison to God to guide me on to the right path. The most gigantic umbrage still dwells in me .I am transgrefull and I seek a huge a change.

I continuously ask for forgiveness from my creator which I can always have the confidence that I am forgiven.But worse to the same effect,I continue to do the same “mistake”.I know,the mistake was for the first time,second time, is a coincidence,the third time it’s becomes a habit .How will I put up with you?

I habitually look a pathological liar who only tells the truth by mistake. The truth just escapes my mouth the way a loud fart does it in a taxi .I am tired of promising my soul wine and I only offer water or leave it quenching on the broken promises.

My way into the piguovioan land is as clean as a candyshop. Therefore making the way onto the path that sells my soul to the devil as fast as light without hesitation to remain unholy and soullessness my quotidian goblet.

May you pulverize my debilitating mind as you consign devine guidance to the righteousness hungry me .The interstice between me and you God is widening under my watchful eye.I feel so unhappy with myself.

I didn’t know I would become one of those that would be at crossroads with my heart. How I miss the days when my head was in reverberation with my mind and soul .I wet my pillow with tears when I think of the million times I betray myself .I die morally on the inside and outside into loud rants and regrets.

My quest for a pedagogue is shooting high in the firmament as the legs that could carry me to where I kneel down to bow and apologize to you are the same legs that I use to go and break the promises. My inner man is lacerating and lancinating in pieces.

The arcerbity of what I conceal has it’s fortitude a tiny immaculately written Suicide note. Of my peace of my mind before it committed matricide ,pantricide and decapitation

Adrift with the control

I had to attain full composure to go down to my feet and put all this down which is vehemently touching and may my soul be at peace with it.The ill flow and typos that may follow justify the timorous belief that my fingers are shaking .

It’s astonishing that the souls that carry our deep evil,experiences and tribulations never posses the candidness to pour out .We die with truths ,greatness hides without a slight fear within our deceitful bodies and anger finds it’s comfortable seat in our hearts.

Clandestines rest upon a being and constantly sway opinions plus the decisions of the same. Doubts surround us all the times and it would be to the fault of none to bear. Humanity keeps failing us with new lessons learnt on a quotidian but sometimes ignored.

Am trying to cultivate a fertile moral ground for expressing a feeling I can’t tell. Its a fine blended smoothie of fear,anger, happiness, corwadice,anxiety,many questions that I can’t attain answers for not forgetting betrayal.

Before that, I also need to acknowledge that their exists the blackest truths that I hold and wish not to share with anyone apart from me. They wear me down as I gaze at the evil that dwells in me with prayers that I become a better person some day.I have accepted and owned them that even if they go public,the best I would possibly do is to deny them but remain with a heart stained with guilt.

Fallacies can be made a quotidian food but to even the lie pundits,they will never deceive their hearts.It remains crying with the truth.The living person without anything they know at heart only for themselves and have shared it could be the happiest person . At least for the ones that have an awesome a hundred of all their experiences and clandestines shared must be with the sharpest smiles.

Character is another fabric that I need to worry about.Have you seen yourself without mistakes and going flawless in the eyes of others but never get to doubt but hope for becoming better.I must be wrong to believe the naked and bare empty-headed “Perfect”stance.

I realise that lost in me is the emotional being that chooses and wishes to hear what feels better and sounds non frightening to the ear .Life has space to people like l who myiopically choose the path I take.Handling the truth as it comes goes inches deep to hit my worst fears.

At the end of the day we only take the sour gravy of what life had to offer ,the harrowing regrets that invoke feelings of dragging days back to clean up and fix the shattered. The standards can be known for bad and good therefore waking up to the dream that you may never achieve in life is excruciatingly hard.

We are only humans that have been betrayed by humanity,fear,anger, anxiety and judgements.We can only gauge this small for we are the way we are .

I out grow this with the orison to Allah to grant me two things .Control within mu character and hope.

With these my forlon body and transgresfull mind will sink.