Part 2: My miserable existence

By Mory Keita

Part 2: Adventure in the Garden of Eden

           

         After being abandoned by my father, I was drawn to the daily spectacles taking place outside  the box in which  I lived in. The incessant noises of the crowded streets, the dark smoke of the trains passing by, merchant women calling on pass byes to buy their merchandises, children playing catch me if you can and running in the avenues, a group of old men smoking pipes while others  played chess and shared life experiences charmed my wandering spirit. I was particularly intrigued by a university professor, whose  name escapes my short memory, who seemed very bright and righteous. Therefore, one night, I decided to secretly venture into his chamber to question him about my father and myself, for if there was a man who would have been able to tell me my identity, it had to be him.

        I went to his chamber walking slowly and calmly, like a cat. Seated in the right corner of his vast room, he was reading a book of geology which he seemed to enjoy. I approached him as politely as I could, and then tapped his shoulder. He turned his face towards me.

“Who is this?” he said with a soft gentle tone.

“Sorry for the interruption sir….” I replied back as gently as I could.

         Before I could articulate my sentence he ran heart pounding afraid and disappeared from my sight . I went back to the laboratory, wondering about the cause of the professor’s sudden disappearance. “What is the ghost that scared this gentleman or was it simply my giant posture and pale face?” I wondered throughout the day in solitude.

        Long I spent waiting, thinking and dreaming—dreaming like a lazy dog of an unknown father’s return, but my patience was in vain. So, the next day, at dawn I disguised my self like a typical townsman by wearing some old cloths left by my father before his sudden departure.Dressed like an upper class gentleman,  i walked slowly and confidently. To my unpleasant surprise, the people seemed to be in fear of seeing a hideous monster like me, as they murmured to each other. Hatred  consumed their souls, but despite their envious and heinous eyes, I continued my journey of exploring the town.  

           The town, with its majestic vista and rich people had nothing more enchanting than my precious Lady Janet. She was a pearl of heavenly beauty—a beauty above earthly minds.

                                          Soft and gentle like snow,

                                          She climbs the moon like shadow

                                          Then her beauty fades forever.

                                    

        The first time I saw her passing by, our eyes met and like a god-sent angel, she smiled at me. Much I marveled in knowing that such an enchanting ghastly creature could have a sincere interest in a monster like me. Isn’t fantastic—beauty and the beast.I followed her gently to pay my compliments to her loveliness. “Excuse me my lady. May I know your name?” I said calmly approaching her, “Ewww, Monster, Monster!!” she yelled hysterically running like a fearful tiger chased by elephants or Cerberus itself. Much I marveled again, “Why such a delicate flower would run from a gentleman being courteous”. Saddened and disappointed by this unorthodox conduct, I isolated myself for days to meditate on reasons people are scared of me, and decided to venture into the wildness. After days of thinking, I came to the conclusion that in the Garden of Eden, all creatures of god are not equal in status— only appearance matters, not personality nor intention.      


I encourage you to read the Third part of this story,  Day of judgment.           

Part 2: My miserable existence

Part 3: My miserable existence

By Mory Keita

Part 3 : Day of judgement 

             

         All stood before the Lord to testify and receive honors for their deeds but I was the only one blamed for the misery and fate of mankind. Behold, an angry crowd of poor peasants approached , axes and machetes in hand, ready to attack and beat me till my last breath. “Monster,” they shouted furiously hurling young and old, men and women like possessed  by a mysterious invisible dark force pushing them. Barking dogs, mounted horse men positioned to attack and kill me at any instant, and an angry mob of peasants with red eyes, furious like bulls, chased me while shouting “kill the monster, kill the monster.” I felt the need to prove my innocence, believing in the teachings of the book of the Lord, which promise fair judgment for all.

“What monstrous sin did I commit to deserve such hospitality?” I asked peacefully of them, but their shadows approaching me kept growing bigger and bigger.

 “Kill the monster, kill him!” they repeated louder than before, branding their tools and arms against me, ordering their dogs and pets to bait me and tear  my body into shreds , leaving me with pain and injuries.

“Hear me, O noble people, I never insulted you, touched your properties, plantations or herds. All I ever wanted was food and water to appease my hunger and thirst. Is this how you treat strangers?” I tried to reason with them.

They heard, but did not listen; they saw but did not reason. They continued approaching me.

“O good heaven, what have I done to deserve such a burden on my head that no mortal has ever had?”

Their shadows approached my silhouette quickly.

“Monster,” a priest leading the crowd shouted at me, the cross of Christ at hand “by the heavens that bend above us, tell me, and tell me what thou satanic creature want from us?”

“I am sorry, food” I replied quickly.

“Monster,” he said again,“by the God that protect us all, tell me, tell me banished creature, messenger of evil what dost thou want from us?”

          Seeing that I had no chance of convincing them of my good intentions, I ran, hiding behind trees in the forest and bushes. But they pursued me and tried to kill me until I disappeared from their sights. From that day I learned that the only just judgment is God’s, not men’s.


I encourage you to read the fourth part of this story, Revelation.

Part 3: My miserable existence

Part 4: My miserable existence

                                                          By Mory Keita

                                              Part4:  Revelation
                    “To be, or not to be, that is the question."

                                                  Hamlet, Shakespeare

              Long I walked searching, like a desert nomad, for father’s location. I crushed earth and heaven wandering across seas and land  like Ulysses “following knowledge like a sinking star beyond the utmost bond of human thought”.

         I finally found my father’s mansion in an isolated place in Scotland and decided to pay him a visit that night. When darkness enveloped the sky like carpet, I adventured into his chamber through a broken window. While jumping at the window, I imagined my father jumping on my shoulders, crying of happiness. I imagined him ordering a banquet for his beloved son's return.

            I calmly entered the entrance to his chamber room and sat in an old chair in a dark corner of the room and began contemplating the family's tableaus hung on the tall, decorated walls of the chamber. These are my ancestors, great gentlemen and ladies; I felt pride in my heart seeing the nobles of my lineage. Suddenly, there came a tapping as someone entering the door. I hid by the rose decorated curtain covering the window, then there came a person entering. My heart pumped as I observed the tall silhouette approaching my hideout.

“Father,” I said uncovering myself.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my chamber?” he instantly replied, shivering as if he had feared this moment for so long.

“I am… I am your son,” I replied, approaching the sun light to make my face more visible and distinguishable.

“Do not approach me, Monster,” he yelled trembling, “I have no son.”

He took a few seconds to look at my face, and then, realizing who I was, moved backward little by little as if searching to escape.

“Have you forgotten me father?” I said astonished by his hostile welcome.

“No, my God, what have I done? You are a mistake”   he said with remorse, hands on his chest.

Confused, I looked into his blue eyes and said, “but, I am your son, flesh of your flesh”.

“Don’t you understand you are not human, you are a monster, my punishment for my sins” he said crying.

     My soul felt like a asteroid from sky. I parted from the chamber, sad, furious, and lost, then set out to travel the world while waiting of a revelation from heaven.


I encourage you to read the last part of this story, Exodus.

Part 4: My miserable existence

Part 5: My miserable existence

By Mory Keita

Part 5: Exodus 

          After my many disappointments, I set myself to traveling the uncivilized parts of the world in quest of knowledge and understanding. In that mid-October, I took the road to the Americas where I tried to live in harmony with nature’s wilderness. Living there, I found an inner peace and sense of belonging cultivated in harmony with the elements constituting the universe. I have found a new purpose in life— accepting who I am.
          To conclude my long and boring life story, I would like to explain the nature of happiness. Happiness is not beauty, talent or prestige. It is an inner voice that shows us the light to something farther ahead, a greater understanding of the world and its principles. Happiness is a combination of knowledge, identity and a sense of purpose.This is the tale of my miserable existence.


This is the end of the story, if you liked it please leave your feedbacks.

Part 5: My miserable existence

All i seek in life

By Mory Keita

A beat in heart,

A voice in head,

A song of life,

A drum under hands,

Something to see,

Something to feel,

Something to believe in,

Something to fight for,

Something to die for,

Something to be remembered for,

That is all I seek in life.

All i seek in life

Dangerous Beauty

When art becomes an abomination

                            By Mory Keita

          I stood awestruck in the middle of a street in uptown New York, contemplating the striking beauty of the graffiti painting on the walls of a Public building .As I attentively observed the fantastic work of the artist, I realized that he didn't do it just to please folks passing by or violate the property. He was expressing his feelings in a painting- a simple yet majestic painting. Just like the writer writes on paper to reveal his philosophy or the politician makes ads and flyers to propagate his opinions and views on issues to the public, the graffiti artist paints walls to expose his emotions. As a teenage writer, I suddenly felt a strong connection to the unknown artist, for just like me, he is an innovator - an engineer of ideas.

         Freedom of expression is a natural right of every human being, when one is blocked from expressing one’s feelings, one  right is violated. It was painful, frustrating to me to see security officers slowly wiping off colors of the splendid piece of art like banning an abomination or erasing forever the trace of the devil itself.  I felt as if a piece of my writing, my creation was being roped apart, thrown in the trash like a nasty, worthless piece of paper – an abomination.

       I do not support the damage of public properties or the violation of the law, but I believe that graffiti artworks painted on public infrastructures must be preserved from destruction for future generations, because like any form of art, graffiti is a form of expression ,thus, a conductor of democracy and freedom.

Dangerous Beauty

One man against Nature

                                   

              By Mory Keita

Yet,still are clouds whispering thy name,

Heavens, behind the white curtain, hailing thy beauty,

Birds sing to enchant thy days,

The sun smiles at thou face, the moon stalk thou above sky,

 Stars twinkle to appeal to thou tender eyes,

Winds caress thy skin with such vigor.

All are there to please thou.

How can I remain passive when the wanders of nature eyes are upon thee?

How can I sleep knowing that you are far from me?

Thy skin is tenderer than soft falling snow,

Thy eyes, thy looks, are brighter than the holy beams of sun and moon,

Thou are lovelier than summer’s falling leaves,

Thou are more elegant than the universe itself.

Envy consumes my combustible heart like fire,

It burns my hopes and desires, tears my eyes:

It makes my heart fall like snowflakes.

But who am I, compared to the grandeurs of the universe!

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 One man against nature ( edited version)

Yet, still are clouds whispering your name,

Heavens, behind the white curtain, hailing your beauty,

Birds sing to enchant your days,

The sun smiles at your face, the moon stalk you above sky,

 Stars twinkle to appeal to your tender eyes,

Winds caress your skin with such vigor.

All are there to please you.

How can I remain passive when the wanders of nature eyes are upon you?

How can I sleep knowing that you are far from me?

Your skin is tenderer than soft falling snow,

Your eyes, your looks, are brighter than the holy beams of sun and moon,

You are lovelier than summer’s falling leaves,

You are more elegant than the universe itself.

Envy consumes my combustible heart like fire,

It burns my hopes and desires, tears my eyes:

It makes my heart fall like snowflakes.

But who am I, compared to the grandeurs of the universe!

One man against Nature

Bleeding heart.

                       

 By Mory Keita

Am blind, deaf or dead? O sweet love.

Dost thou exist in pure hearts? O wistful thinking.

Will thou ever shine ere my end? O heart-breaker.

Shall I pierce my soul with this blade? O quixotic madness.

Shall I run from thee forever? O courier of pain.

Gallantry and flattery speak not for me:

Ages crumble from the ancient ruin of time,

And passion vanishes into oblivion.

Now, I thy loyal servant, who traversed the desert,

Defied  mother nature’s will to come to thou,

Stand proudly before thou to declare my love:                                       

Gentle lords and ladies of sacred Olympus,

Here is my sunbeam, commander of my desires, my love.

Behold! How her grins are enchanting,

Beware! They're more fatal than the kisses of Medusa.

Love! What a strange word are thou?

I wish I had never known or heard of thou.

But alas mortals’ hearts are vulnerable to emotions.

Tho’ I breathe, breathing is but unsustainable pain,

And tho' I eat, feeding is but mere distraction from pain.

O harsh, heartless pain, is thou name love?

Or is thou synonym of affection?

My heart bleeds, my soul morns my lost.

A bleeding heart is but eternal damnation.

Thus, Dammed be love and its vain emotions.

Bleeding heart.

Growing up

              By Mory Keita

When I was two and half feet, I was a rose,

And my Mama was my moon and my Dad was my sun.

They made me blossom with the purest of love.

At dawn my Dad would rise with the sun,

He would wake me up with his beams,

And tell me to eat and part for school, all with love.

He wished to make me grow beautiful and strong.

At dusk when the sun slept behind invisible mountains,

My Mama would appear with the moon,behind the cloudy curtain.

She would with a smile follow me wherever I went to.

She was with me in dreams and nightmares, in light and darkness.

I was her little prince and she watched over me growing up with love.

Now that I am six and half feet,

My Dad's sunlight is fleeting and my Mama’s moonlight is vanishing.

Tho' their love is falling like leaves,
They will always remain in heart my sun and moon.


Share your poem with Poets united and Magpie tales.

Growing up

I have seen all and none.

 By Mory keita

A singing bird perched on a tree,

A furious beast hurling its fury,

A burning arrow striking a corpse,

I have seen all and none.

I sit emotionless, faceless like a puppet,

Observing the moving hand of the clock,

“Damn it, too slow” my patience boils,

My thought wanders aimlessly in the seven heavens.

I cry of ecstasy, dance and jump of pain.

I chuckle and sing of rage to this unruly slow clock.

I roar my fury like a robust lion as I see slaughters;

Each tick-tock brings back memories.

These barren memories flux through my intoxicated mind;

My speech is flame, my sight is horror.

Blind, heartless savage, why dost thou speak to me?

I am the death, you fear, waiting at the corner,

I am a viper, calm as aggressive,

I am a bloodsucking mosquito,

 --Sucking the last drops of your miserable existence.

Patience, love, misery, fertility and life,

I have seen all and none.

I have seen wars in Iraq,Afghanistan and Somalia.

I have seen a people ravaged by war and famine.

I have experienced cruelty from Nazis, Slurs from ignorant folks.

I have seen terrorists plotting against peace.

I have seen all and none.

Why dost thou hate me?

I am Jew, Muslim, Christian and Buddhist.

I am Marxist, capitalist and communist.

I am black, white, Asian and Native American.

There is no mirror in my heart,

My vision is colorless, thus I do not discriminate.

Why dost thou wish to divide?

I have seen all and none.

I have seen patriots dying to preserve freedom and liberty,

I have seen selfless teachers willing to help at any moment.

I have seen mothers consoling their children, prophets of peace and love.

I have seen tenders eyes second to none.

Hatred, greed and stereotypes, do not approach my heart;

Do not corrupt my sight.

I have seen all and none.

The Graduate

 By Mory Keita

Give me my life, hand me my destiny.
For Long have I endured your dullness,
But you met me with despairs.

Give me my life, give me my future.
Your dullness is of unpleasant taste,
Let me explore new horizons, let me shine.
Sun smiles, clouds dance in the blue sky,
Birds’ sing, wind  blows, earth has shaken,
The blue ocean of knowledge lays ahead unexplored.
Do not retain me---let me sail off your shore.

I dream of noble deeds and epic adventures,
And you yearn of earthly delights.
Then, let our routes diverge after this odyssey,
Let my name be etched amongst stars,
Let me passionately molds my world,
Let me seek knowledge beyond the horizon.
For, unless his deeds transcend the ages,
A man’s existence fades compared to eternity.

Now, give me my life, let me shape my destiny.
Though you and I are bonded for life,
Our path resembles that of two lone clouds.

The Graduate

The Jerk

       
 By Mory Keita

He is the jerk, dream of girls.

He is the charming prince in their reveries,

The bold superman who knows how to care.

They love him because he is manly,                                                          

And he loves them because they love him.

Yeah, he is the jerk, the man.

He is the one who knows how to woo girls.

He is one who makes them cry tears of love at nights.

Yeah, he is the king, the boss of their hearts.

He holds the key to female’s hearts,

And jealously keeps its secret with malice.

He walks like a star, and speaks like a dork.

Look! He is the master of the game.

The chess-player who has mastered mind-games;

Yeah, he is the jerk the best at his game.

He has learned that a girl’s heart his a chess game,

So he has become a dauntless chess player.

He deceitfully manipulates its 16 pieces like a "real man".

Sometimes, I envy the jerk and his jerky tricks;

Truly, he is a skilful master of psychology.

For, though he is a bloody manipulative “bad boy”,

He has earned the dreams of men : women’s hearts.

The Jerk

To Annie, my heart

   

                                                                 By Mory Keita

You ask, “do you love me?”

Yes, I love you with love,

Like I sing with birds,

Write with my pen.

I love you as I love your name;

Why must everything be wordily?

You ask, “do you dream of me?”

I love you but I do not dream of you,

For dreams are ephemeral.

You ask, “do you think of me?”

No, you hold no place in my thoughts,

For thoughts are vain like wind.

Again, you ask, “do we have a future?”

Maybe, I do not gamble with God.

Let us colorfully enjoy the present now.

Now you will ask, “Is there a place for me?”

Aye, you hold a place in my heart.

For my heart is with you and you with me.

I love you with my heart  and my heart is eternal.

To Annie, my heart

The world as I see it now

                                                                  By Mory Keita 

The world, as we see it now, is the work of some visionaries.The absurd imagination of some crazy-old-fools who hundreds years ago, idly sat on their chairs to ponder upon humanity. They dedicated their lives to philosophy and sciences; then, scholarly came up with theories and system of belief to better mankind and eradicate its self-imposed misery.

Though, their philosophies are of unequivocal beauty, they are prone to change as humanity evolves steps farther. Ideas are but works of mind and the mind is but a conscious characteristic of the human race (the same can also be extended to every other race).  Mankind in its current situation, which is characterized by unceasing warfare and destruction, needs more crazy-old-fools and fewer vile warriors who undermine the power of intellect in pursuit of brute force. When we separate ourselves from our God given intellect, we became lesser than animals and return to the dark ages.

The world as I see it now is evolving towards an age darker than the dark ages itself. Some of you might qualify me as a pessimist, but if we analyze our history (as far as it is recorded), we will realize that , we live in one of its worst centuries. The twenty first century stunningly resembles the fictional world of Uqbar in Jorge Luis Borges short story Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius (which can be found  in Ficciones,  his collection of short stories). Borges describes uqbar as a place where everything is pure fiction; by that I mean, in uqbar things are falsification of reality and the "reality" is but a part of a greater false perception. The similitude might perhaps not be apparent because, we live in an uqbar. We feign that we live in a peaceful world while we are not. We live in a myth created by a group of oligarch serving theirs egoist interests.

To summarize my thought, mankind needs more crazy-old-fools and fewer warriors. We desperately need more people-of-mind dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge to advance our common goal. I do not advocate for a utopian society, as it is unfeasible. I will elaborate on this issue in future posts. 

The world as I see it now

Je t'aime Mama

        While looking throughout my old piles of school papers, I came across this poem “Je t’aime Mama”.  As far as I can remember, this is my very first poem. I wrote it when I was about eight years old in my “class d’ecriture”.  We had a little presentation in which every student was required to share a story with his peers.

         Reading this poem, I have realized how fast I have grown and how much I have changed; it brings to me the nostalgia of my childhood in Conakry (enough with me and nostalgia). Below, I have typed it exactly as I the poem on the paper. I have also tried to translate it from the French to the English as accurately as I could. I hope you enjoy it. Please, leave a comment if you would like to share your childhood experience with the readers of this blog and myself.

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             Je t’aime Mama

      Écrite par  Mory Keita

Je t’aime au profond de mon Cœur Mama.

Je t'aime Mama plus que le monde,

Tu es la lumière qui éclaire ma vie,

Je sais que tu j’aime aussi.

Je t'aime Mama plus que les étoiles,

Tu es celle qui me guide et que j'adore,

Et tu es belle, grande et  gentille.

Je sais que tu j’aime aussi.

Je t'aime aujourd’hui et je t'aimerai pour toujours,

Je t’aime dans mes rêves et cauchemars,

Tu es ma Mama bien aimée.

English translation

                  

I Love You Mama

I love you deep within my Heart Mama.

I love you Mama more than the world,

You're the light that illuminates my life,
I know you too love me.

Mama I love you more than the stars, 
you are the one that guides me and one I love, 
and you are beautiful, big and nice.

I know you love me too.

I love you today and I will love you forever.

I love you in my dreams and nightmares,

You are my beloved Mama.

Je t'aime Mama

To be "cool"

         By Mory Keita

To be cool like the old gangsters:

Put your pants down the butt,

Become a loud desperate attention seeker,

A know-everything fellow,

A tabloids lover and books’ nemesis,

Listen to rap and senseless music,

Wear in vogue sneakers and T-shirts,

Be clueless about the world,

Become rude to any one different from you,

Utter profanities non-stop,

Enjoy your life and nothing else,

Cut school on a weekly basis,

Make cool friends not nerds and geeks,

Party at least twice a week,

Go along with the fun and give up anything boring,

Smoke marijuana, drink alcohol to feel high,

Try to fit in as much as you can,

Look your best under the sky,                             

Hang out with friends the whole day,

Think about the present and it only,

Go home at 1:30 am and then ask yourself,

“What have I done with my day?”

To be "cool"

A place beneath the tree

              By Mory Keita

Where is that place beneath the tree?

That temple of wisdom where knowledge

Flourish and falls like summer’s leaves,

And existence has a proper significance.

Where is that lost paradise my heart seeks?

There, Pythagoras and Archimedes discuss

 Symmetries of nature and beauty of shapes;

Plato, Aristotle, Socrates and great thinkers

Question the purpose of life itself.

That is the place I wish, that is the world I have lost.

Adam and Eve lost the Garden of Eden and did not find it again,

Will I find again that place beneath the tree?

Till that day, I shall find solace in this  foolish world.

                                              

A place beneath the tree

On vit, on parle

Here is a poem of the great French  writer , philosopher and poet, Victor Hugo's " On vit,on parle". This poem's beauty reside in its simplicity and its humorous tone.

the last three lines of the poem are particularity very striking. It basically speaks about life hills and valleys, its beauties and sorrows.I hope you enjoy it as much as i do.

              
               On vit , on parle...
                          By Victor Hugo

On vit, on parle, on a le ciel et les nuages 
Sur la tête ; on se plaît aux livres des vieux sages ; 
On lit Virgile et Dante ; on va joyeusement 
En voiture publique à quelque endroit charmant, 
En riant aux éclats de l'auberge et du gîte ; 
Le regard d'une femme en passant vous agite ; 
On aime, on est aimé, bonheur qui manque aux rois ! 
On écoute le chant des oiseaux dans les bois 
Le matin, on s'éveille, et toute une famille 
Vous embrasse, une mère, une soeur, une fille ! 
On déjeune en lisant son journal. Tout le jour 
On mêle à sa pensée espoir, travail, amour ; 
La vie arrive avec ses passions troublées ; 
On jette sa parole aux sombres assemblées ; 
Devant le but qu'on veut et le sort qui vous prend, 
On se sent faible et fort, on est petit et grand ; 
On est flot dans la foule, âme dans la tempête ; 
Tout vient et passe ; on est en deuil, on est en fête ; 
On arrive, on recule, on lutte avec effort... -- 
Puis, le vaste et profond silence de la mort !

On vit, on parle