Found a note today

It had someone’s number on it.

Thought about them

Did the intended one get it?

Did they get the value?

Or did the sender not care !

Or they did beieve enough to leave it to fate.

Was it a she?

Was she beautiful?

I hope she was

Money don’t come easy where I am from.

Was it a he?

Was it a tout handing it to a beautiful lady in a matatu?

Was it a sponsor in a club handing a girl high on weed as cab money in the hopes she’ll call?

Was it a she?

That local mbotch shooting her shot with the shop keeper!

Or someone’s mum was too busy looking for a piece of paper to scriblle an allies number and she hadn’t heard from in a while?

Or it was a crush hoping that her Valentine would get the money and make the call.

Now they are rolling out the new currency will the intended get the message! I can’t tell.

Wanted to call the number see if the author would remember their deed

Childish ambitions.

Hope in a flawed system

Advertisements

Huh

Okay let’s see what comes out of my tired mind after battling a barragevof tests and I am not tired ironically I am just sleepy.

Got injuries from outside in.

I need stitches like I do kisses hugs like I need swathes of bandages.

I am not saying I am not okay

I am saying that I am wounded

But very much okay with it.

I’d probably break down in the middle of the road like a Bentley and still look majestic and gracious.

Radiance

I feel like I am giving off the wrong vibe but getting positive feed back

Kinda feel broke

But I got money in bank account but can’t spend it on myself

Kinda feel empty

But I am drowning in emotions and shit

But I kinda like it

But I don’t like it it’s not sustainable

Reliable

Dependable

Feels like the waves are not automated like they used to be

I am kinda in pain but I don’t wanna acknowledge it cause I don’t know how to approach weakness

I need care but I cannot give it to myself and I cannot ask for it yet so many hands offer yet I deny

I demand peace but I am up in arms after provocation

I kinda need a vacation from myself

But who’s gonna be me when I am gone.

I was made in his image

I am a God

But he doesn’t pick up and go.

Does it feel wrong that I want it to hurt to me but it hurts the wrong people.

What is life?

But I kinda wanna give up

But I got so many people riding on my success.

But hey I guess it’s okay.

Guess I need me a Jackie Chan to get me through this.

Happy HannikaπŸ’―πŸ’―

We can always imitate a muse but it can never be as pure as the original

We can only invoke silhouettes of what we felt to create

But the pursuit of artistry and authenticity can only be achieved by higher cranial activity fire works of some sort inside us.

Mine is a different story but an all too familiar one. Kinda dedicated every letter keyed into this feed it was predestined been fighting with the role of destiny and fate.

Questioning my faith because what I prayed for in pain meets me in a state of confusion. Questioning things that I was taught as a child of God and seeing the children of Allah implement better than us seen this red Indians live in harmony than I do with my thoughts of disparity.

It’s about me and her but I feel like I am talking too much about me. But since I have your attention lend me your understanding not your comments

Since you’ve been gone

I’ve not invested in humans like I used to

I think I see betrayal in their eyes long before I see the love

I haven’t let another hold me like you did me

Never held someone in that gaze like I did you

Seen so many smiles

But non line up like yours

How your lips arc when you say no πŸ™ˆπŸ˜©

I can still hear your voice in my head

And I am being pre emptive AF

And I hate it

I can hear my heart beat so hard

Its in my blood I can’t tear you out I can’t spill you

I can’t trust me heart no more

Cause it despite the silence and absence

Despite the desolation and depravation of affection and the capacity

It still hopes that the fire can be spirited back brighter bigger wild fire

I don’t wanna burn like a candle on steroids

That shit hurts you know

I pray for the best but I still carry my fear as kevlar

We can always imitate a muse but it can never be as pure as the original

We can only invoke silhouettes of what we felt to create

But the pursuit of artistry and authenticity can only be achieved by higher cranial activity fire works of some sort inside us.

Mine is a different story but an all too familiar one. Kinda dedicated every letter keyed into this feed it was predestined been fighting with the role of destiny and fate.

Questioning my faith because what I prayed for in pain meets me in a state of confusion. Questioning things that I was taught as a child of God and seeing the children of Allah implement better than us seen this red Indians live in harmony than I do with my thoughts of disparity.

It’s about me and her but I feel like I am talking too much about me. But since I have your attention lend me your understanding not your comments

Since you’ve been gone

I’ve not invested in humans like I used to

I think I see betrayal in their eyes long before I see the love

I haven’t let another hold me like you did me

Never held someone in that gaze like I did you

Seen so many smiles

But non line up like yours

How your lips arc when you say no πŸ™ˆπŸ˜©

I can still hear your voice in my head

And I am being pre emptive AF

And I hate it

I can hear my heart beat so hard

Its in my blood I can’t tear you out I can’t spill you

I can’t trust me heart no more

Cause it despite the silence and absence

Despite the desolation and depravation of affection and the capacity

It still hopes that the fire can be spirited back brighter bigger wild fire

I don’t wanna burn like a candle on steroids

That shit hurts you know

I pray for the best but I still carry my fear as kevlar

Drunk last night

Tripping on some shit

Shit she said

Shit that shouldn’t have mattered

Drunk last night

Staggering in my mind

Can’t seem to decide

Choose a stand

Carried my Whiskey with me

Tripped so hard

Choices to be made harder than my drink

Stumbled my way half into the glass

Should have said it was emptied

But y’all snappy and yap saying

It’s half full

But I emptied it sir

It ain’t full sir

Just like you are full of shit

Who said that?

Guess I needed to hear that.

Can’t hear myself think

Too many banters

Too many discussions on opinions

Memories statements deeds.

But my silencer ain’t full.

It ain’t empty either Sir

Guess I should find myself at the bottom looking up.

Like I do at noon

Hangovered waiting for the glare of the midnight sun to die down

It still ain’t full

I am still full of shit.

Started with the words I am Wolfgang Garrey. Never looked back ever since. I have never regreted anything ever since.

For all the pain I have felt. Scars gathered. For all the stories I can give cannot fit a book they’d make a one month documentary faces I’ve met places I’ve been. Stories I’ve had. I am a propagator of memories. I relish in the smiles I’ve brought forth. I am happy where I am despite the glaring potential of things falling apart. I have learnt that shit happens. That I am to blame can not point fingers at people . They said ,

You can only avoid the unexpected if you are in control.

So I live by those words. Sure I wing it more times than I care to admit. But the belief in ultimate success that. That makes me believe in myself even more.

I am on no high horse over here au contraire. I am making an assessment fully aware of my mistakes. Fully aware of my inabilities. Yet I cannot highlight my success without being told that I am tooting my own horn but screw that who cares here I am having conquered my use of Coccaine. Having regained full control of my life well majority of it. Having successfully made it through 148 days without an incident. (Snow Chelsea you know we’ve worked for this along time coming). Here I am healthier, smarter and wiser. I think I need a round of applause.

When they ask me what keeps me pushing I tell them I cannot recognise the man I was two years ago and I wouldn’t want to know him. That’s why I work tirelessly. Everyday put myself through fire and forge a tougher steel alloy every time. I walk in with every expectation to sweat it’s not an easy road. It’s a tight rope. Discipline. Mind over body as my new coach shouts at us when he puts us through his mineal 4hour training sessions in the evening till night fall. Shoot I forgot to tell y’all I am playing rugby.

I am a work in progress.

Blood Chronicles is an argument.

An argument between a mentally stable man and me.

It’s an agreement to never betray the process of growth and repair

It’s a contract sealed in blood

Blood Chronicles has served the purpose of a comforter to some souls

And my job as Wolfgang the creator is to hope that the best

Was achieved.

Blood Chronicles has always and will always serve as a referall to those in need of respite.

In search of understanding with the need of words non-existent.

Blood Chronicles shall always be the check point for all harm done and unaccounted for.

And we shall always be here to bring lit to the darkest of shadows.

I am no God I am not playing God

But if!

Today

Blood Chronicles breathes it’s last

Splashes it’s vast knowledge one last time.

It has been a steady road working all the way to this point.

Like I say all too often.

I am no good at good byes

I am an escape artist

I am best known for having created what I destroy.

I am a one man mayhem.

It has been a pleasure.

I am Wolfgang Garrey.

I am to be god

Why be a king when you can be a god ~ Marshall Mathers.

I am Garrey Brent Mahuro Githuku.

Born on the 29th of May same as my mother. Sad to say neither of us knows what to buy the other for a gift so we stare at each other in the morning as my dad sings happy birthday to each of us. Well happy birthday Mum.

Man I’m only getting older longer legs broader shoulders hears I’m getting smarter not dumber but I’m still not bullet proof.

The man Wolfgang Garrey. Been calling myself that for the past four years. Poetry has defined me for those four years. Poetry has been my compass. Today I am different man than I was back then. They say time changes things changes people. I swear the man I was back then. Or rather the boy I was back then would be proud of the man who I have become. I might not be the man who i set out to be but I have become a man better than I started out as.

Two years ago post no 1 it was an attack on the society for all that it had failed to do. Now I am that society and it reflects negatively on who I am. Change how society views beardsmen. Now I am changing how society views men. I am not the perfect man but I am upright. I believe in the power of discipline.

But I am as flawed as they come. Maybe worse. But I am working on my flaws which are increasingly made aware to me. I can not expect you to pat me in the back and tell me jolly good job matey.

In the pursuit of superiority mentally, physically ,financially I discovered that it all lies in the discipline motivation gets you started Discipline keeps you going. Committed to making the best out of who you are. In my short life I have sought to be known and respected as a gentleman and the glaring scarcity of mentors in my life time. I am forced to learn through unconventional means making my own mistakes with no one to correct me since our moral compass is fleeting faster than our integrity . There’s a balance at one point but the reverberated impact is not being felt on my end.

I am at a place in my life where I cannot utter words without weighing them. I cannot do things without running the scenarios several times in my head. Call me paranoid but I learnt the evil that lays within is also manifested without. My words my deeds are pre planned pre arranged. They say in order to defeat a winning enemy in their territory cut them off from their supply. So I am denying myself the opportunities to mess up and in as much as I try. We are programmed with this things in us called emotions. The Vulcans call them self destruct buttons they believe that logic should supersede any and all scenarios. In as much as my Klingon is sketchy at best it leaves me with the taste of affirmative cause of action should be well thought out and not in direct response based on emotions.

In all fairness even God himself gets angry. So who are we mere mortals not to occasionally loose track but in essence we are at a point and time in life where That’s just who I am ” doesn’t cut it no more. Tropism.

I am way too young to be giving advice bearing in mind today is the day my mum popped me out into this world just as she was 44 years ago on the very same day. Shoot my mum and I share a birthday. Woohoo!!!!.

I sometimes wish I had a mirror in my room to talk to. Call it madness but I think it has a means of calming one’s KI . I am an ardent believer in control and things that tend to fall out of my grip give me sleepless nights despite my advocating for mental health since it’s May and all. But they still get to me.

How does one write their biography?

This was supposed to be my brief biography but I feel I have alot of things to say but I also don’t know what order to write . I hope by the time I am through writing I’ll have figured the order.

I Started playing rugby guess 16 year old me would deny ever having such ambitions. I doubt he’d imagined ever having drugs or being a frequenter at the clubs. Or even be single~ish. (Grey area) Or that he’d know heart ache and love. Yet the 6ft Goliath staring down on to this screen faces the same fears as back then. Welcome to growing up Garrey you don’t change everything. You can change the physical but without the mental you are a well crafted sculpture.