BROKEN IMAGE

He arose to the noises that suffocated the silence in the neighborhood. Hardly protected from the cold winter in a worn-out blanket on the cemented floor. Shivering out of the best times he ever had. Sleep was the most peaceful time for his body but horrific moment of his mind - because nightmares dominated his sleep. The pressure was always mounting up, never getting better. He lifted his sorry flesh up to face the routine of poverty that summed up his life. Sad. Rinsing his face with water from a green komichi (metal cup), with no soap, wiping the face dry with a dirty shredded shirt. It never got dry, little water drops created a trail to his one room from outside. There was a little bit of Vaseline to shine the cracked skin and chapped lips. So, he had to press his finger into the little bottle - cutting his hand with the edges of the bottle reaching for the Vaseline plastered on the bottom of it.

As if the days where never changing - he would dress in same clothes. Perfumed with his hard work sweat of the past days, now on the street looking for that one dollar again. He always imagined a hot day and being chilled down by manmade air, the fan. These where his coddled thoughts of the future he wished to live. This mental picture always nerved his body to breakdown - emotionally bound by the story of his life he would drown himself in tears. It was always a belly against gravel situation for him - bruised and blood stained, slithering on, dragging himself through the hours of the day into the darkness of the night. When he would have gathered a few cents to manage himself to see the sun consume the darkness into the next day. He lived off, rather survived from directing cars into municipal owned parking lots in the city-center and anything that gave him an extra dollar. Everyday waking up to gamble food into the tummy - strangled by life troubles - not knowing what tomorrow held for him. Glob-trotting in broad day light blinded by the hunger for a new day to give him a new life.

One day after an argument with Chamu on Union avenue then - now Kwame, he knocked himself out with an overdose of Histalix. He was angry because Chamu had taken his money. He had directed a lady into a parking bay - then Chamu stretched out his hand to take payment from the lady on his behalf. He knew that was the end of it because Chamu pocketed the coins. That's what he scrubbed his face early morning to do and Chamu took advantage of his stature. He would look up into the sky as if expecting a voice of comfort from the heavens, then suddenly looks down in disappointment because the heavens never spoke. This was because he never spoke up to the Heavens. With his head downcast he noticed the bottle of Histalix. His fingers got itchy and his whole system singing and shouting to be graced by the liquid. He handled the bottle with passion, his fingers wrapped around the bottle with a tough grip. He indulged the cough syrup as though there was no tomorrow. It penetrated his veins so fast he got stoned in a second.

He spent hours passed out on the pavement. People watched with a compassion filled look. Feeling sorry for him. He lay there like a dog which had been slammed dead by a car along Seke road. Chamu looked on and got touched by the state of his friend. He took him up his shoulder and carried him home. Wiping his eyes open, he found himself on his cement bed. He got up as though he knew how he got there. The earth was turning round, away from the sun - he still had to eat. He got up and rushed out - in the so busy location. Before he managed to leave the house, a lady grabbed him by the belt and commanded him to wipe the floor. That trail he had left early morning had messed the corridor . As if driven to the wild ends of his thinking - he shoved the lady off. Stormed out. The woman was shocked, left all-struck in wonder.

He got back on the street with his mouth in his nose, bare foot. Walked up to a lady along Chinhoyi street. She was puzzled by the way he approached her. Within a flash he ran off with her hand bag. Since when, was it the syrup? What was the matter Zvineyi? Oh that was his name. Zvineyi - slim and dirty. He grew up in the Shacks in Mbare. He lived for years and no relative of his had an account of his whereabouts. He had left Chivhu where his family was to the city of Harare, in quest of a platform to realize his dreams. He was only fifteen years of age when he jumped onto a moving Gonyeti. The truck was one of those that carried maize to the Grain Marketing Board to Harare. Zvineyi had mastered the way it went round the villages. It made its last rounds and he slid in under the tent, lay himself in between the maize bags. Fifteen years old and so determined, diligently driven towards the picture of his mind.

The truck arrived in Harare late at night - since he had camouflaged himself within the maize no one noticed him. Only when it was daylight he ran off to the streets as if he was being pursued. There was no one ready to chase after a dead soul. He had a dream, he had a vision. It was too early to launch yourself Zvineyi, it was too early. Harare had its own beasts, dream catchers. Zvineyi had no idea what he had landed himself into. He found himself under a bridge for days, months, years even. Until came along Chamu, who introduced him to the hustle of city kids. At times he sat down and flashed back to the mahewu he left back at the village with Gogo. Chamu was a fast guy - Zvineyi had come across the city's smooth man on the move. He did whatever made him solve the problem of an empty belly. Zvineyi's eyes were opened to the World of struggle.

It had been seven years since he left the village, reminded by the worn out, broken down GMB truck he hid under, with the lady's handbag. As he was searching the bag, he ran his eyes past a broken mirror. The distorted reflection of his image made him stiff, as his mind ran backwards. The mirror displayed the broken state of his life. The City was not what he saw in the magazines. The City was not a silver platter for achieving dreams - it wasn't bread and butter. The City had jaws, the City was raw - not a place for little village-boys who couldn't read and write. Grown-up men and women sweat blood in the City. Dreams and visions where slaughtered in the City. The broken pieces of glass told him how much he had been a fool. They reminded him of that naive, immature dream - that landed him face to face with his nightmare.

He had a dream to run a supermarket, like the Spar, Ok and TM he always saw. Zvineyi had no idea that he had to invest into owning a Shop. It was VaMuchai who formulated and breathed a wild imagination into the fifteen year old Zvineyi. VaMuchai drove a Mazda B1800, light blue in color, but, old and rusty. It smoked more than his diesel grinding meal. He also managed a chain of tuck-shops at the Chambara growth point in Chivhu. He was every little boy's role model - he didn't smoke chimonera, he puffed on the pipe. He handled his affairs like an English man. Surely, Zvineyi once sneaked in on his mother and her friend as they admired VaMuchai - building Castles on quick sand.  This only consolidated Zvineyi's imagination of VaMuchai - the Superman. Even his mother had fantasies of the man, he was the lady's man. He spoke fluent English, and  dressed like he was on a photo-shoot. He was a vain man, he loved himself excessively.

VaMuchai became Zvineyi's role model, but he desired to do more than the old man. Despite the old man's nasty behavior of taking other men's wives to bed - Zvineyi admired him. VaMuchai was a drop of water in an ocean - he was not even recognized beyond the Bhundu. He was a village player, dressed in the old type of suits, the City had people wearing slim-fit suits. Who could blame Zvineyi, that's what he was exposed to all his life. VaMuchai was the Brad Pitt of their community - ladies would argue him to be the Trey Songs, he was just the measuring tool of every man's progress and success. The celebrity of Manyene residents. Who didn't want to be VaMuchai - "the man of the golden touch and class" - they called him. Zvineyi's own father at some point in time had spoken of VaMuchai as the greatest man of his generation - he was like the Nelson Mandela of their little town.

He is the man who drove Zvineyi out of his mind. Zvineyi didn't know anything called research, analysis or cash flow. A tuck-shop was the only prosperous business one could do he thought. He saw the richest men of today to have tuck-shops, he even thought that the President of Zimbabwe owned one. Miss-guided by the drama of man-worshipping  created by the villagers. "I will be greater than VaMachai!" The young boy said to himself, before he jumped onto his visa to suffering. He got onto the truck, eyes blinded from what he left behind. His heart had been turned cold. Zvineyi only allowed his mind to see how people will marvel at what he would have achieved. Oh, how foolish he had allowed himself to be. VaMuchai was not even sure of who he was, he was also a lost soul. Zvineyi had to bid farewell to his hometown hid in-between sacks of maize. He swore in his heart to drive back to the village home.

The broken mirror spoke so loud he dropped the handbag and sat back. Regretting the folly of his mind, remembering all he said years back. It was too late to look back - the years had sealed portals to the life in the village. He told himself he couldn't go back. Seven years of hardships, and to return like he never left was not an option. Zvineyi had no contact with any of his relatives or family. The ego that buried his life at fifteen dragged him into the mud, by that time VaMuchai had passed on. The man died of AIDS. He fell sick for a few days and died. All this was Greek to Zvineyi, he knew nothing. There was no way he could abridge his destiny to the riches of his mind. The creator and maker of his wild side only lived four years after his escape to his so called higher places. Funny, VaMuchai had a great impact on the life of someone he never spoke to. Sad, dragged to the pit by broken images, miss-informed by the outward appearance of a dead man walking.

 Zvineyi didn't give himself time to analyze his role model. There was no scrutiny of the path he was taking. He just pre-launched himself onto a land, nasty, and merciless. He had lost his way - until broken mirrors had voices. He regained consciousness underneath the truck that transported him. He looked at the handbag, then at his reflection in the mirror - he was black, but seven years back he was chocolate brown in complexion. He now had patches of black skin drowning his original skin color. He couldn't believe he was the one who had robbed a young lady. It was the awakening moment - it was beyond reality, he didn't shed tears. It was a deep self-revealing time.

The hunger was consumed by the conversations he had with the pieces of glass that reflected his image. Zvineyi could picture his childhood days, playing around the fire with his older sister. She was the only one he played with, boys his age weren't fast enough to catch up with him. He loved to walk alone, never shared any deep truths with anyone - except his imaginary friend Anderson. Whom he noticed sitting next to him. The night fell upon him, but he never noticed. It's because it had been seven years since he saw Anderson. He thought Andy was left herding cattle, but no, Andy was with him all the way. Zvineyi had a difficult time, mixed-emotions, he didn't know if it was right to be angry at Andy or to apologize. Andy sat there silent, looking on as Zvineyi clamored at him. He figured that the broken mirrors weren't talking after all, it was Andy who was talking to him.

Exhausted from the shouting, and reunion with his friend he fell asleep under the Truck. Then morning came and Andy woke him up. Andy was far much smarter than him and his new hooligan friend, Chamu. Waking up, Zvineyi continued with his quest of searching the lady's handbag for money etc as if nothing had happened last night. Andy argued him out of taking anything - though it was a tough one for both of them, because they had slept with a two grand. "This is Two thousand dollars, United States Dollars Andy! Not kwacha, but MaObama!!!! Ahhhhh, and you want me to what? This is when I wish Chamu was here!!" Zvineyi spoke loudly.
Andy was almost convinced that they needed the money, but he just would not agree.  "I know this is your first time to look at two thousand dollars, but think about it, don't you think the lady you grabbed the money from is dying? Have a heart my friend, have a heart." Andy made his point, with an ever-soft voice that pierced through his street conscience, like hot iron slicing through liver. Zvineyi was pinned down to act accordingly.

Andy left Zvineyi to feed on his two minute meal for the brains only and went back to the neglected handbag. He started digging again and found a business card - the great thing was that it had her picture on it. It was her - Andy suggested they called her. Zvineyi was scared, what if she got them arrested. He thought going to drop the bag at the address on the card was a better idea. They began to plot on how to get the handbag back, as if Zvineyi had not seen the two thousand dollars. Zvineyi was thinking of sliding a few notes into his pants. Andy was hands on, watching, his eyes wide open like a hawk on a hunt. They walked out from underneath the Old GMB truck, and made their way to the young lady's workplace. Andy was a bit on the bright side, he read the address and led the way.

Zvineyi was tracking behind Andy, dragging his feet towards FBC Bank in Leopold Takawira. "Do you even know her name? Are you sure that's her in the picture?" Zvineyi tried to apply diverting tactics to the decision they made, under the reformation truck. Andy ignored and kept stepping. The annoying questions his friend kept posing to him - made him blow up. "HER NAME IS JANET MABVIANENHARO, AND SHE WORKS IN A BANK!!!!" Andy snapped.
Onlookers where astonished, greatly surprised at the level of insanity this boy was functioning at. There he was, with a pink handbag and talking, rather shouting at himself. Many people gazed at Zvineyi but it didn't alarm him that there was something amiss. Or he ignored them like the blind eye he gave to his village when he jumped onto the moving van. Andy and Zvineyi were in a world of their own.

Anderson was excited to see the tall buildings and the rush of cars on the streets. He gave credit to Zvineyi for the opportunity to see new things but condemned him for the method he used. They got to this tall building and the security guard stared at them - with this dare-ask-me anything look on his face. Andy was not bothered - he looked beyond the guard to the satisfaction of his needs. They had arrived to their destination. Zvineyi spoke to the guard and asked for Janet. The security man looked at Zvineyi and ran wild imaginations on his mind. He must have thought of all the weird articles he had read in the H-Metro about funny events happening in the City. He probably thought this to be one of them. The guard knew Janet to be a muSalad, one of those girls that identify themselves as coconut Africans (dark on the outside but white on the inside). He had worked there for years and he never heard her speak a word in Shona. So for him to see a dark, dirty shoeless man carrying her handbag and boldly asking to see her was an H-Metro scene.



The guard didn't delay further to call her down, eagerly driven by the desire to see her reaction when her eyes would meet her visitor. In his head he was saying,  "today I want to see what this nose-brigade will do?"
Janet came down, cat-walking to the entrance. The guard held his breath, panting as he paid attention to the scenario he saw to be a disaster. Zvineyi spoke under his voice filled with fury, " look at her walk, she is not even sad or looking like she lost something precious. Andy, Andy - you see, you see. We should have split the money and left the bag there to rot! She is perfectly sound"
Janet got to the desk, noticed her handbag, broke down and cried. All this happened without her looking at the man who had it. The guard lost the joke - he got concerned. Janet walked up close to Zvineyi and hugged him, as if knowing that all her belongings were still there.

Zvineyi melted like candle wax in her warm embrace. Janet was a fine vessel, a woman built with a golden touch to make her a fine piece. It could have caused a blood-rush in Zvineyi's body, but no it was miles from that. His heart candle waxed, because he had never been hugged since he was ten, when he managed to find his way home after his father had forgotten him in the bush. It had been years, since a human being of the different sex pressed her body on his. It blew his mind, in his dirt, bare foot, and stinking state someone actually rubbed against him. His heart beat faster - am I dead? "No you are not!" Jane replied. Oh my, he thought she could read minds - but he had spoken his thought out loud. Zvineyi had never felt more human. He relaxed himself and realized it was really happening. As though it was a reflex he wrapped his arms around the lady. The Security man was puzzled - is this a reunion, what is this? He thought to himself, but acting as if he wasn't concerned - but immovable, eyes wide open, mesmerized by the uncommon act.

Andy fulfilled a manumit act in Zvineyi's life. He felt a cool breeze on the hot day - a release. It was as if heaven had come down - but the hug lasted only thirty seconds. Zvineyi was still holding on to her as she tried to pull from him. Then Andy pulled his friend back with a slap in the face, only then did he let go. He handed the bag to Jane and stood like the Statue of Liberty, eyelids not functioning. Jane slid her hand into the bag, felt the stack of cash and pulled it out. The Guard had his mouth wide open as if he had seen Michael Jackson in a suit, that shocking state of seeing a dead man walking. He froze, because it must had been his first time to see many notes and thinking how does such a dirty man bring a bag with such an amount. When she spoke out - the guard came back to life.
"I don't know how to thank you for this, it truly is a miracle - I prayed about this religiously. The Lord heard my prayer. You came back, please come upstairs."
Zvineyi turned his head round about searching for someone else - but her eyes balls were jammed on him.

Zvineyi's life had been elevated within seconds, going up a building in an elevator. His face lit up, he felt that joy he felt years back when his mother bought him a toy car. Tears massaged his cheeks, and wet his shirt. He felt it within him that his life was taking a hype. He got up to the highest floor, following behind Jane. She pushed her door open into her office and Zvineyi lost it for a bit. He saw things he had never seen before but kept calm. They entered the office and Jane sat him down. She faced him and contemplated if he was the one her grandma' told her of.

Several years before this day - her grand mother had told her that she will meet someone like him. " In five years from now, you will meet a young man. He will be dark in complexion, slim and on the scruffy side. He will take something of yours forcefully, but will return it the next day or days. I am not sure what it is that he will take, and how - at what occasion. Anyway, that man will be two or more years older than you. He will show you a new world that will lead you far in life. Be on the look out my dear, be on the look out. Five years I might not be here but I need you to be vigilant. It will come to pass, it will"
The conversation echoed on the walls of her brain as she looked at Zvineyi, who happened to be grinning out the window of the skyscraper. She argued in her mind about him being the person prior to the analytical sense of viewing Zvineyi. She had totally forgotten the emotional reflex that had happened downstairs. She tried to formulate an excuse to that effect - by telling herself that it was an impetus act because of the excitement to see her bag.

Jane pondered hard on the situation she was faced with. She looked beyond the present, to the future - and began to ask  Zvineyi questions. The interrogation was not so easy because Zvineyi was sick of a street language disease. Jane had a tough time but managed to exhaust her questions and land into satisfaction. Whatever she asked the man surely brought rest to the search for the new day. Zvineyi was ever-calm after the conversation. She stood up from her seat, walked towards the door and said to Zvineyi, "lets go home."
Zvineyi picked himself up and looked to the heavens and smiled. Then under his breath said, "Andy you the best!" Without wasting time Andy responded, " No you are the best because I am an origination of the voice you never gave an ear to seven years back, I'm your mature subconscious mind."
The door banged behind Jane and Zvineyi as they disappeared in the twist of the steps going down.

PEN MOMENTS...

Smiling in the face of death, strangled by sheer madness as the night fades into an eye shuttering darkness. Cluelessly grabbing onto objects, mapping a way in the thick tangible darkness of the night. Strapped onto the bed but running wild on the plains of the mind - blackened by the reflection of nothingness piercing through his eyes. A painting of see through colors defining the mystery of colorless appearances becomes an engrossing state of his mind - just like when a rainbow appears into sight when the eyes are shut. That release of pressure like a pin popped balloon - flying in all directions with a blasting dying sound.

Pen Moments...

It's like that time I traveled to Mozambique - that disconnection I felt with existence - a feeling of merely living. The sombre feel of nature in the eyes of a dull future-less-heart, a brusque response to life heading towards a destruction of the soul. The feel of losing grip to breath - as if the exit door is flash opened shining all round before you in the midst of a silent darkness. A blackened night with the wind whispering the children's songs of fear on a starless sky.

WALKING WITH THE LOST...

It is not in the way they step. They walk with style but walk in the moment. Their conversations are always about the now never focusing into the tomorrow. Their tomorrow is a bed rock of worries. Pursuing hardships in their minds but living in the now. Direction is the common word in their hearts but it has become the lost element in their walk. Their appearance is appealing to them but the reality
is appalling. Chin up, chest out and so sure of their existence in the direction of a shameful ending. For there is a man they follow – a man who has found the truthful way. Amazingly they follow the man in a blindness best described by us who once walked in these ways. Forget not that the man they see is in the right but the way they perceive is in the lost. It has always been the case of seeing or discovering. One can never see when he is at the same level with what he wants to see – geographically you need to be on a higher platform to understand what is on the lower level. This is the same principle in understanding direction – those who rise are never pompous because they have endured so much in the rising there is no time to flaunt. I have seen them who have risen in stature behaving like they have a permanent seat on top, a proud look. Humility has staying power, sticking ability, assurance of long lasting presence. Their character is without humility – and they are buried in pride. When a person is lost and does not know they are lost it is a sad situation. I have no right to judge one’s direction but in relation to me I have concluded this to be the way of the lost. It is never a man’s wish to be lost but always a man should examine where he is standing.
... c a n d l e l i g h t t h o u g h t s. 

SHADOWS

Drowsy, sleep drained, heavy eyes, broken bones, so are the tracks of life. I mean what haven't you eaten? That delicious piece of cake you saw through the window years ago, you finally bought it. Things are the same, yea, there might be a vexatious wind blown towards you on the tracks but if you are adamant in the direction of success then your life will be a well told tale for those who follow. You have been to the toilet countless times and you are still going there. Things are the same - when you take it in at one point you will dumb it - that's the way of life. You will drive yourself nuts trying to stop your shadow from following you in broad daylight. It's true, the night will consume the shadow but the sun will expose it. It will never be night in the morning - so don't get angry at the shadow it's a replica of your real self. I admire the way it crawls up the buildings when I walk past them. And, the language of the shadow is simple - it tells me I can rise taller than I appear. It goes up the walls and tints the places it passes by black, but never changes the origin. My shadow doesn't suffer the misfortunes of a dying economy. Only the blackout devours the shadow like the Red Sea ate up the Egyptians. We are shadows in the light of the Spirit World.

STRAINS....

On a journey so long, yet so short in distance. The silence dragging the destination further. Whatever he is thinking keeps pushing them apart. Whatever is on her mind seals the distant atmosphere. Desiring manumission from personal bondage - lighting match-box thoughts, burning themselves from within. He did his best to question happiness out of her, but she didn't respond to it. She gave a blind eye to the efforts he made to reach-out to her - messing his emotions with her piercing silence. She strangled all that he had - all he thought was the real love - all dried out. Never did anything that pleased her - he had to be taught everything. Even to caress on her was wrong - its either that he was too cold to feel on her body or he wasn't doing it the right way. Stressed, on the edge of the bed as if his life was on the edge of a knife. What was the issue? What went wrong? It was all jolly good, days before. The rising of the sun brought no sunshine, but a thick darkness one could slice through with a dagger. Dreaming in different worlds but sleeping in the same bed. His ego swallowed up the gentleman in him, because he told himself he will never get it right anyway. She kept to herself always - never a time she tried to touch him as if he was dying of a contagious skin disease. Is this what they saw in the beginning? Because if it is what they saw then they took a wrong turn. Misery infested relation...

Extract from my NEW book... CANDLE LIGHT THOUGHTS

TELLING HER STORY
She always enjoyed the higher life. She never considered the consequences of her acts. She never thought of her actions as to having an end result. Her life was instant. There were never long term processed actions.  The microwave life style of the 21st century toasted her brains. No desire to build or be built. Yes she did have a sense of “yes I want to make it in life.” I could pick it up in all the conversations I had with her. She did have dreams – she did want to be an inspiration, to that one young girl knowing where she was going to be lost. Her love life was a message of hope for those who never met a match – that, surely you can connect to an opposite. We all have seen it – like that couple you always look at and wonder how it happened yes that couple. Okay back to her. She did dress up in a way that made heads turn. Some heads turned saying shame on her, some said wow, and others said oh there she goes again. We all know when heads turn they are being adjusted to criticize or to admire. She was never alarmed by negative vibes from those around her. She cared the least about everyone. She got her way in all she did. Her emotions had been buried within her ego. Her actions spoke so loud. Everyone knew about her. She lived in a home that had serious religious values but they made no sense to her. She was alone in her world
                                            ... c a n d l e  l i g h t  t h o u g h t s.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND eleven...

It came rushing to my mind, flooding my veins showing me a blood bursting scene - volcanic eruption vision in nature. That gnosis - deeper truth, spiritually attained, conviction of how it was going to unfold before me in the physical. Call it prophetic - it's not a calculation of upcoming events. It's that one second flash of a future that will take hours explaining, even years. Yes, it has happened to most people who know there is a greater force above. When He reveals the events to come for the sake of directing and guiding us. I knew it from my loins. It was registered in my heart that I will live beyond the expectations of many. The pressure of knowing what's coming before it comes usually drains the knowledge bearer in a sea of anxiety to live the days foreseen. I have experienced His touch, His hand is soft but pierced for me to hold on tight, pierced for me to walk in riches, pierced for me to live in the supernatural. He introduced me to walking on water - revealing my dominance over water. Revealing His holy stature to me - crumbling my body to a shrunken state of worship and reverence. It's not like l had a tail in between my legs as a dog - but that worship of true understanding beyond fear. All consuming God, all powerful God, awesome God. Yes, creator of my tomorrow - healer, comforter, teacher, standby, yes my strength. A paragraph of handwritten tears on paper, knees sunk on the ground will never amount to the praises printed on my heart. Oh Jesus have your way!

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND fifteen...

He never did. It was all a miss-figured truth of his mind. The electronic intimacy he shared with her made him feel true love - what a fallacy. They shared a dream and lived a lie - when the smile was nothing more than a parade of teeth. Forgetting that her presence in his life was a result of him gallivanting on the internet. How could it have been serious? It only fired up when the phone had battery - when she was online - How could it have been serious? Left in a hangdog state for believing in an electronically managed relationship. It can never spark to reality or maybe I am wrong - flirting with emotional tool boxes of the mind by punching the keyboard into her heart. Blinded to romance by the illusive images on that application that has made human beings silent figures of information - what's app - yes that's what it's called. Playing puppet with your social life and heart because of itchy fingers. Tapping buttons late at night - draining strength - aging so fast due to self-made pressure because of the waves that transmit thoughts and intents. Bubble gum relations - once you suck out the juice they're ready to be evicted from the mouth. They don't last long. Look, you have been made obdurate by willingly giving your heart in to the modern walk. The next real thing that comes will have a hard time peeling off the hardened shells that shield your heart. Who is hurt here? Who killed your reasoning emotions of love? Who made you heartless? That gadget that you are holding is the instigator of your current situation.

Vocal Versatile thoughts Intro

Well I take this opportunity to tune you into the state of my mind. Where I allow myself to rule over an egregious past of failure and lack. It's what I chose to vocalize from my mind that has shaped the surrounding environment of my existence. It's not so loud to be vocal but it's an understanding of self-standing. In these episodes of thoughts I am directing my focus on the conversations of my mind with the universe in connection with my living. I am not self-existent, I have a force of power within me. The Holy Spirit is the back bone of my inspiration. He influences the direction of my confessions. With Him I have the ability to circumnavigate human issues - and drive myself on a highway towards greatness. There is a life within the texts of my interpreted mind -  the words breathing rather panting, bubbling with power. There is a difference between bottled information and released information. It may be in a lampoon manner but is relevant on effecting change on nature. It's the aired out words of one's mind that carry metamorphic substance. Yes, that intimidating stature of nature that instills fear to utter self-elevating words will always be the roadblock of your change in destiny. I'm after that shift, that turn-around, paradigm movement - the twist in the times. And I am getting there - that one word is the bridge..

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND fourteen...

The world just shut me out of existence. It's like I'm there but not there. The shocking effects of nature in motion - when I become deaf and dumb but sound and well. That time I am snatched from this life into another realm of life, but bound in my fleshly garment. That experience of separation, between body and soul. It's not sleep, my eyes are wide open - it can't be sleep. I know there is breath and blood pumping within my veins so its not death either. That silence picked up in the noise. The peace in the burning flames of fire waving in a darkness so thick and consuming. A blockade to the sands sliding down the hour glass. The pause in life. A stand still you have control of, but just won't be bothered to exert pressure on - to alter it. It's a release - refreshing, the-fly-away moment when you are seated in hot soup but not being cooked. A withdrawal from the exploitation within the artificial nature created by mankind. On a wild route within the plains of existence - the strength to go further is rooted within these so called soul-searching moments, self-discovering times. A massage of soft fingers running through the stubborn hairs of my head will untie and loosen the African kinky hairs of my head - which have tangled my mind on a spot check. It happens, to be withdrawn from the land of the living when you are still living. It's those good times when the wind blows in your face on a very hot day. It's not what life brings to me - but what I avail to life is what matters. Things don't happen to me I happen to things - so allow yourself to daydream but wake up early enough to achieve those dreams in your day.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND thirteen

The awakening thought, the event processing mind-mechanism which pumps adrenaline to your heart. Yes. The moment that brings into formulation the question, how did I miss that? That instinct - so loud and deafening. How could I have missed it? When you centralize your motives on selfish satisfactions you tend to miss the bigger picture. Don't restrain a good idea from the realm of activity. The fear of being robbed is the greatest thief of execution. Remember, thoughts have an electromagnetic reality - they pull towards you the chief pictures of the brain. This is when you begin to ride on the reigns of imagination. When you have an unction for creating something don't sit and rock in the seat of procrastination. Get into action - believe beyond the odds in the manifestation of your creation. Get a red bull effect to your motion. Yes, the motive is the bedrock of all human motion and it determines the zest of your action. Suffocate yourself in good motives of executing judgement in the direction of your thinking. When preparation meets opportunity, break through is inevitable. Prepare yourself for elevation. Don't discriminate yourself from being an achiever because of your background. Deliver your mind from that trend of comforting yourself in lack - live in abundance. That fashion of poverty that has dressed your approach towards existence should be done away with. There are so many opportunities in this world - ground yourself in strong motives and turn the tables on nature to favor you. Of course you can do it.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND twelve...

I sat on the sofa - ramming thoughts of wild imaginations on the walls of my brain. Still working on Snippets Of My Versatile Mind elven. Doing my best to construct Snippets Of My Versatile Mind twelve - forcing the flow of my thinking. We all know the drag - when we are pulled by desire without inspiration but looking for satisfaction. Finally, I had a tangible produce of a strained mind on paper. When my wife looked at it - she traced the struggle and pain I went through. I had written about the conversations of my mind. The craziness that captivated me when I saw a bottle of coke. The void sounds of emptiness were so loud in that snippet. Yeah, a premature recording of thoughts. Like a vast land of nothingness - great potential, that was the state of my mind. It was like that bright shinning sun without heat on a cold day in winter. A torturous event of trying to complete a puzzle for the reader to be directed - yeah a sign post. Directing you to greener pastures but never reached there. No. Not me - I have become the reality of a wealthy man's dream. I direct from the end towards the beginning. The juggled up mess of my mind is my strength. I have exposed my cerebral system to things beyond my physical attainment thus I have provided a route for the physical to follow. The greatest transition of all, from rags to riches. Oh how rewarding it is to think big.

Snippets Of My Versatile Mind ten....

Yes, this one incident slammed me hard and locked my brain on memory lane. The things I couldn't shake off but only satisfy the raging blood soaked tissues in my skull to feed on them - the past. That handshake. The basher. That grey trouser and white shirt. The maroon blazer. Green and maroon tie. Ah, yes, the brown shoes from Bata. The pride we carried in our boyhood days energized us to keep the torch ablaze. A heartfelt love for being part of a strong tradition of winners. This is a place that stained us even to this very day. That memory that became a part of every boy who used that road. Where we became men and knew how to handle grown ups' business - the bottle and money. What an orientation to the journey of destiny. The days we all don't mind to relive. The life in khaki shirts and shorts decorated with the deep green and maroon tie slithering from the neck - the ranker's attire. Yes. The one that influenced us to hum during the mass punishment. Oh these are the thoughts I never get tired of sharing. There are just so alive within my veins. And today I won't just address my elder without the rightful respect. Morning Sir, Afternoon ma'am, good evening Sir. My hands can't be in my pocket when addressing those who saw the sun before me. The values of being there which I can't trade for anything today. Amazing how Natural Geography slammed me hard towards memory lane when they aired that tiger. The stripes on that animal took me to that field - where we spat on each others' faces and never noticed, crying our lungs out for the Tigers team. Long live Prince Edward School.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND nine...

Spare me a minute. Rather a second. That conception of possibilities against a waring environment of impossibilities. Bubbling with greatness. Rosy picture - an exposé of the life of King Solomon, wealthy in material possession and women. The riches of good hormones from the mind. I asked for your minute, I know. The second was to capture your attention towards that conception of possibilities I mentioned earlier. This is the provocative substance I am availing to you. Consider this to be an orientation of an eccentric mindset in an African vessel. Lets take that drive into the wilderness - where you allow yourself to be a pilot of a Boeing 747. It's allowed - lose yourself in a journey of abundance. This dominance of a lingering un strapped, loose thought of insufficiency ready to be devoured by the mind should be curbed. Turn the tables African boy - look at it half full not half empty. For once its not about to finish before you finish - but you have to see it. Your today is an exact reproduction of your most held and magnified thought. Why do you shy from thinking about yourself in that very expensive ride? Why? You know it electrifies your inner being. Feed yourself with possibilities. Be optimistic - yeah try it. Don't be religious about your existence. Flood your brain in wealth, wear the crown, lack nothing. Remember I'm in charge because you surrendered your minute to me. So, forget the debts, forget the hunger - just refresh yourself in the reigns of fulfilling thoughts. Don't forget the smile, its important.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND eight..

Okay snap back to reality. The one plate stove, bed in the corner of your one room and curtains dividing you from the next room. That place you live in. Where you decided to lodge your factual thoughts in tangible existence. Where you have become the land lord of a none land position. Yeah, that posture of being the boss. Ruling and running a none productive organization. That domain embedded with nonsense. Bragging over being in charge. What do you have rule over? Who waits for your approval? Are you a factor? Oh, because you are humble? But you have implanted pride within your humility - basically, you have become proud of being humble. Now you drag yourself like a he-goat with a beard - fearful of slaughter but boastful in stature. That connection you have with your ego - will only tie you down. Yes that blood boiling thought that you have made it - relax a bit. You don't own the joint. You can at any point be evicted. And it's only one room. Don't be over zealous - like that one time I lost an opportunity at the Jewel because of excitement. Maintain your composure, be calm and collected - there is room for improvement, look ahead. 

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND seven...

Standing before this great mountain, my early morning challenge - the wardrobe. I take my time negotiating my mood with the kind of clothes I'm going to put on. After an immense session of intimacy with lotion - prior to the baptism I had in the bath tub. That first impression notion had me motivated to plug into the day with gusto. The dress code mesmerizes my day to adhere to my meditation. That's what I'm talking about. That black shirt that mentions how serious I am today. That red short that makes me today's lover boy. Color blocking they said, I trust it to be a trend of confusion mingled with a deep ignorance for class. Rainbow clothing is what I will tag it to be. Utter disorder of mental coordination. As if alluding from the sense of real touch. Absolutely. It almost looks nice, but. It's sad I got diverted in thought - my vocal point was, addressing dressing being a message. Dressing being the influence of how you are addressed. Yes. An illusion that ministers sound judgement to the conclusion of one's assessment of my appearance. I place my attention on your attention but mainly on my intention - which is my silent but very loud verbal action. Back to the picture of hanging cloth..

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND six...

That abrupt rush of blood to my head made me stiff and weak at once. How did I end up here - what kind of maneuvers got me here? I thought I was on track. I thought I knew where I was. What a blinding darkness, blended and mixed with a thick choking layer of ultimate fear. It's not fear, but the sheer absence of relevant knowledge. I had my eyes stuck on the mark. Blinkers. Yes blinkers, but I thought I passed the rightful spot. Did I? Okay, what really happened here. Rewinding a tape in a broken player will not work. The ribbon got chewed - I realized it. I had my focus stressed on the wrong footsteps. Footsteps of the blind. Land markings of large footed men on a muddy road to nowhere, footsteps. That's what I expressed my heart on with true diligence and faithfulness. That ruthless, remorseless fact of nature - you harvest after the kind of your seed. I let the ultimate slip through my fingers struggling to reach out for the immediate. That cinema view of success got starved because my eyeballs got jammed on the seats right in front. That captivating, enslaving, worthless scene you visually hold onto for years only to interrogate yourself for years why you were looking there - description of stagnancy. Splash open your mind and examine who you are following, where you are standing. Have a vision - build castles and live in the now focusing on the future. I'm glad this is a trip within my versatile mind, I am focused on the mark. Are you? 

DAWN OF THE NEW DAY...Mukundi Eli

That excruciating pain. That seems to be the last panting for real breath. Deeming, respiratory system is as though failing slowly and at a rate in-sync with the new dawn. The eardrum popping scream awakens me to realism. Oh it awakened me - its a past that seems to be new every second it hits my cerebral and a nervous twitch to my emotional system. I witnessed it. Yes I did. I can't put together what I felt - but there was a definite numbness in my emotional response. The call to push struck me hard and I'm thinking is this how I showed up? Is this what I did? Do I even remember what I did? Okay, back to the true bits of action. Five people in one room, five grown ups oh six actually. We where six and five of us where looking down as though cheering but so emotionally driven to see the end result of it all. The awe that dominated our attention influenced the environment to be joy-lit, with uncertainty of what really would take place. Hours, minutes, seconds kept ticking - it was as though the clock was running out . The immense tension on the built of God got us hooked. There were no seats so we were hooked in mid-air suspense, chained with the urging desire for the sun to swallow the darkness. Finally, she began to push. Oh my wife. I glued my eye-lashes onto my eyebrows - never to blink. But that resisting, natural reflex motion of the body to look aside pinned me tight. I was unwillingly swayed to look elsewhere and run un-imaginable images on my mind. When, just when I decided to look up I saw him - swooshing he came. I have been selected, hand-picked from the boys to be a man. Welcome to the World of mere thoughts clothed in materialistic substance. Welcome my Son, it surely is a new day..... 

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND five...

It remains there no matter how you drag it with you. That un-alterable moment of activities that you lived before when they were the present. The decaying truth that you fight to keep fresh in your mind. As you re-picture it, re-smell it, revisit it by freezing today's life to melt a frozen life you left outside when you entered into the new dimension of your evolution as a being. It's not possible. It's a draw back. If it doesn't inspire you to pressurize the gas paddle towards destiny then flush it. I know it's that one clinging thought overdressed with excitement of having done it. But, look - its beyond your reach now. You have reaped your flesh, stripped off the now trying to tap into a time that has left. I know the feeling - that moment we all lose it - winding the clock backwards with the desire to un-wind the pattern of events that have landed you on the sofa losing sleep. It's 3am and you still plotting on how you should have done it four years back - it's not bad to re-think for re-firing. But, if you are digging a grave to bury yourself in thoughts of how you messed up then you are now the mess. Cleanse yourself from the blaming thoughts of where you are. Burn those old pages of your life - you have today to live and make a greater history of tomorrow. 

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND four...

Suddenly the blanket you pulled into late last night has become like concrete and cemented you in it. That myth making noise in your head, singing that new but old song of Monday being  the worst day of the week. But you still dig yourself out of the warmth and comfort of that floor mattress. It was you who poured water into the bucket to wash off that oily, stagnant mentality. Tapererwa. Why are you saying they are not paying you enough? Don't rub that green bar soap onto the towel - if you are still arguing in the loins of your mind about that pay check. Why are you rushing if you are being ill-treated Tapererwa. It was you who got on to the bus to go there. Why. Don't air out that negativity when you are in love with positivity. Don't build that house if the walls won't shelter you. You have made your progress a rugby match - you pass the ball backwards but you want to move forward, Tapererwa. You are pulling, rather, dragging yourself to the place that has fed you for the last ten months. Refocus, re-strategize Tapererwa, less complaining - just like when you were excited about getting that job. Let every experience be new - relive the joy of the first day and dump the rubbish of being there for long.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND three...

The rattling, crushing sound of the crispy sun-toasted leaf from under my foot arrested me into a thought processing cage. How would it be if I had been cut off from the source of breath. The lifeless leaf had fallen from the benefits of good complexion - looking green like the others, having the wind blow right in it's face, growing that love for life deep. Oh, finally being crushed by the busy me, on a mission to have the wind blow in my face and sun-tan my complexion. The unsettled activities on my mind like the rush of waters on Victoria falls pushing me to look beyond the graceful fact of being able to wake up. But, shoving and shrugging off the merciful act of being given another day to spend time, being the most expensive commodity no living being can own or buy. In that frozen state of immense interaction of true existence against in-existence, the biochemicals in my brain formulated the word GRATEFUL. Yes, grateful. Be grateful you are able to read what I have written. You are not crushed like the leaf. You are alive - be the best of you. Take time to remove your focus on negatives and launch yourself in a pool of things you are grateful for and show it.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND two....

She sat by the window as if gazing into the sun, but her mind was blind folded by her problems. The pressure of being under pressure consumed her in a trans of sadness the interpretation of her misery. Jane. If only you looked out the window and not gazed in the sun to burn your thoughts of misery. Instead, gaze into the beauty that is reflected in creation. Look at yourself in the mirror - but remember a mirror is an exact image of the light you view yourself. Jane, don't sweat blood. Don't exhaust yourself on minor issues. Remove that blockade, that sentimental belief of reigning lack and poverty. Refuse to see a mountain in the ant hill Jane. Let what you are gazing at be what you are gazing at, not what you are lost in. Rise Jane rise. I know you are not a figment of an unrealistic thought - you are the reality of someone's life but only a character in my mind.

SNIPPETS OF MY VERSATILE MIND one.....

deep in thought....

The outward appearance of my mind is conscious coated but the reality is loud spoken, not the liking of many people. I am the noise in the silent moment of life. Today I introduce the me within me, the one who speaks when I am in deep thought. The one who reads out loud when I am silent - yes my judgment seat. Today I expose him to you, so you can be a part of the conversations of my mind and world. He is the one who distributes energy to my veins for me to release him in ink on paper!!! Yes he wants to talk to the you in you! The decision making seat is his domain – the man of the moment but never seen in the moment. Let him narrate success to you - he sees it before it happens. Get in touch with him today and be directed from the depth of life into the deep life....

WALKING WITH THE LOST…

It is not in the way they step. They walk with style but walk in the moment. Their conversations are always about the now never focusing into the tomorrow. Their tomorrow is a bed rock of worries. Pursuing hardships in their minds but living in the now. Direction is the common word in their hearts but it has become the lost element in their walk. Their appearance is appealing to them but the reality is appalling. Chin up, chest out and so sure of their existence in the direction of a shameful ending. For there is a man they follow – a man who has found the truthful way. Amazingly they follow the man in a blindness best described by us who once walked in these ways. Forget not that the man they see is in the right but the way they perceive is in the lost. It has always been the case of seeing or discovering. One can never see when he is at the same level with what he wants to see – geographically you need to be on a higher platform to understand what is on the lower level. This is the same principle in understanding direction – those who rise are never pompous because they have endured so much in the rising there is no time to flaunt. I have seen them who have risen in stature behaving like they have a permanent seat on top, a proud look. Humility has staying power, sticking ability, assurance of long lasting presence. Their character is without humility – and they are buried in pride. When a person is lost and does not know they are lost it is a sad situation. I have no right to judge one’s direction but in relation to me I have concluded this to be the way of the lost. It is never a man’s wish to be lost but always a man should examine where he is standing. 

CANDLE LIGHT THOUGHTS extract......

THE DARING YOU!!

In his collar torn shirt and baggy shorts, James walked into a Car sale. The attendant was shocked at the audacity in which James approached the most expensive vehicle in the shop. He asked for a test drive, the worker had to ask the manager to come and address James. The man in charge kindly asked James to produce a license, which he did not have, – which made it impossible for him to test drive and not to mention the other requirements.  Against all odds, penny-less, broke, James entered a Car sale and asked to test drive the most costly machine in stock.  This shows us that the man was daring, he was led by his ego to walk into the shop despite his appearance. It is important though, that you know this – the way you are dressed is the way you will be addressed. Yes you can wear torn clothes but iron them – make them look good on you but this is another days’ talk.

When we examine the above scenario – we can see that this guy was bold, courageous and focused on his goal. He was not held back by his status. It is true some of our friends who were raised in poor environments are ruled by fear, extreme low self-esteem, to the extent of not enquiring on what they desire to know. The mindset is designed to accept whatever comes and therefore they don’t increase in knowledge, or advance. When you liberate your mind from the bondage of lack, fear – you can exercise boldness and accommodate abundance. To be daring is to be brave, to be bold – to approach or do something your ancestors have never done, though they might have attempted in thought not in action. There is this one thing that always made your heart beat drums whenever you thought of doing it, daring is when you cage that rising feeling of fear and do that thing – and please note, this has to be something under the laws of Zimbabwe.

When you set yourself out to do something daring you need to have content. Remember to dare is not to be stupid, but to be crazy. Yeah go and book an appointment with the CEO of that company. You are sure of how good you are and how your expertise will enhance his business – so take him on. Don’t be crying with your certificate under your bed gathering dust when you know you are the best there is. Get up, dress well, put on your Christmas clothes, wear your best and approach the company. One thing is you should be sure of what you want, have content, be ready to prove your worth. Materialistic grading has destroyed so many people. Don’t judge yourself because you don’t have a cell-phone when you have qualities to create one – all you need is a platform and it will not come on a silver platter.  Always know that, it’s either they will say no or they will hire you but one thing is they will not kill you, as long you are within righteous boundaries. I call it the mad man’s theory, no fear no boundaries but full of quantity.

Always talk to yourself – tell the man inside he can do it. This nation is saturated with thinkers and attempted ideas. Cultivate a culture of not giving up too early. People talk of Bill gates being a college dropout as if he had failed schooling – I believe he was daring enough to pursue what he wanted at an early stage than waste time learning eighty percent of things he would never need to be a computer programmer. This takes us back to content, Bill had content, he had a vision and by dropping college he was positioning himself for who he is today. The reason why you don’t dare is because you are not passionate about it and it is not a burning desire to do whatever it is you want to do. It is like when hunger strikes, one can do whatever possible to feed, even steal – hunger would have driven him.

Be different, dare the daring.  Imbibe the mad man’s theory – it is you who needs the change, so go for it. The reason why you haven’t risen is because you fear to rise but you want to rise. There is someone somewhere who needs your abilities. Hey it doesn’t matter who tried and failed – that’s them, don’t measure your capabilities by who has done what. You are your own person, if its good then go for it. Learn to have blinkers that guide you to where you want to get. If you have never tried, how do you know you can’t when you have assurance you can. Let your assurance of making it, rise higher than your fears. You have what it takes – you can be what you want to be. Dare. There is nothing that can stop a purpose driven man, there should be a reason for applying boldness to what you do.

Go ahead and be bold. Do things within the region of the laws and regulations of the nation. Don’t wake up and say I want to dare the daring by stopping the President’s motorcade – you will be shot dead on the spot. I mean which fool does such a thing – but you never know there is always someone who reads and sees things differently. I want to believe you are not that kind of person. Remember, don’t stop at the secretary’s desk if you are not satisfied, ask for the manager – get what you want. Never enter the secretary’s mind and think on her behalf as if you are bothering her – she applied to be one, it’s her job to be bothered by you. If you turn back you might have shattered an opportunity to become her boss – so if you need to see the manager make sure you do.

You are the best of you. Make time for meditating your desires. Always know there is no door closed to you, and unapproachable situation in the World. Be bold in your approach, you can make it.