A group of people find themselves in hell and they need to know why they got there. So the play is made as a series flashbacks for the main characters. For a play lasting about three hours and about 25 people in the cast, it was quite a show.
On a whiff of randomness the other day, I opened a facebook group for my primary school.
Every generation in human history has viewed itself as more advanced and civilized than the last. The one constant has always been sex, and rituals around it. Continue reading…
I stood up to go somewhere, but now I do not know where it was, or what I was going to do when I got there. There’s the door I opened and closed, built by my grandfather’s friend and ‘shipped’ on an old donkey cart, repaired many times since, and still holding.
Everybody who has a heartbeat lies to everyone else, including themselves, most of the time. Some lie even after they die, which is interesting given that the dead tell no tales, unless they have written them before, or donated sperm ante-mortem.
If you are reading this and you have ever had your phone stolen, grabbed even, in this (used-to-be) city in the sun, then you are either smiling to yourself or holding your chin. A phone is not an easy thing to lose, never has been. The Kenyan phone thief is proof that Darwin was right. First, let us agree that there are no absolutes in science, there are no facts, and there is no proof. Everything depends…
“Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I’ll ever know…”
My penance piety does not suffice
As the fray takes toll upon my mortal
As the dagger slices and dices
The fort crumbles…
Hope and pray I be reborn
To dive into the fray one other
To face demons whose fire I stoke
That my soul for peace to have
My heart for ants to feed
Yet death hath become this life I boast
All good fights have come to this
The moment on which I stand
The weapon upon my hand
Broken sheath under my feet
On this day I am born
On this day I die
I must hope and pray
That one day I learn to hope and pray
Eyes gaze beyond the clouds
For an omen I might see
This fort mine blessing and curse.
Immortality it might be
The bright light that cometh my way
Into the last good night I’ll ever see.
“…Live and die on this day
Live and Die on this day.”
The fact that you have read the title and decided to read this post implies that you find it intriguing that a beautiful girl can have a connection to the house of the dead, what we mortals call a morgue or Mortuary. Well, let me be the first one to tell you this, the beautiful girls die too…I hear beauty actually rots faster too… Continue reading…