Thursday, 23 February 2017


Circles. We live in them. Each 'today' is a copy of a 'yesterday'. But then, 'yesterdays' don't exist. They existed in the past and faded away. They're truly gone. Then perhaps, each 'today' is an independent original clean copy on its own. Hm, what a confusion. Let's drop this argument. 

The future remains a mirage of several 'tomorrows' glued together by the adhesion between hope, faith and belief. Circles, we've been living in them. Same days, same nights, same minutes, same hours, same mornings, same evenings, honestly, they all look and feel the same. All these days feel the same. As if when we switch off the lights in our rooms and go to sleep every night, we are hitting the same repeat button, over and over again. A thing quite many of us will nod to in admittance. 

The truth is, our existence is a circle. We live in circles. All these days are all the same. It is what you do on a particular day that makes you say at the end of it, "This was a great day!" or perhaps, "What a horrible day!" Some of us have managed to break those circles with the positive impact we make each and every day with what we do and joined them to make a long line that we can trace to a 'bright future', while some of us have been failing at our efforts, and been making negative impact each and every day, hence live in dull circles, over and over again. 

Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha

Sunday, 19 February 2017


The universe made a mistake. I believe nothing is perfect after all, and that's no exception to the universe. Meeting you, that was a mistake. The universe made a mistake. Why did I have to be where I was, at a time when you were too? Why did our paths have to cross that you'll get to talk me into your world and into your life, and cause my porous naive heart to absorb your lies? 

Dear first love, you should have known of the depths of oceans of viscous pain and heartbreak you drowned me into at a time of my life that swimming in it wasn't a skill I had perfected. You shouldn't have let your dogs into my bunny's cage. You'd slap when needed to clap! Now, I nurse my wounds all alone, telling myself I'll never love again. I want to forget that part of my life you stole from me. If I could time travel back into time, I would murder Eve before she meets Adam, then Adam afterwards, that all humanity is erased from existence and from the face of this earth. You made me lack faith in it! You made me hate and doubt myself! You should have known, some things once broken can never be fixed. You of all people should have known better! 

"Dear First Love"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha

Friday, 17 February 2017


When I was ten, every single night I would tuck myself into my beddings and say a nervous prayer. I was afraid. I was afraid of the dark and that the angels looking over me would perhaps choose to betray me. I was afraid of the corners of my bed. I never got a choice on my dream preference. I was afraid of the possible nightmares that whoever was responsible playing them in my head would choose to. I was afraid of imaginary fingers tickling my feet, the monsters under my bed, coats on hangers that would appear like
creepy serial killers in the dark and even more seriously, alien abduction. I was afraid of everything. But then, I came to understand that I was just afraid of my own imagination. I was afraid of my own self!

Now, I am all grown. I learnt that fear is within one's self, and imaginations. If our imaginations are channelled towards fear, they will become our greatest weakness spots. My childhood taught me something. Fear doesn't exist. It's just a mere mirage. But that doesn't explain me being up at 2 am typing this. I miss being a boy-baby, who'd still fall asleep easily, even in his worst fear. Grown and fearless, sleep became an enemy. Perhaps fear is good after all. Just a little bit of it. Now I need to sleep. 

Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha


"My bones ache from your touch. My goosebumps rise to worship your fingertips. They ripen from the warmth in your palms. You free the caged breaths from my lungs with your whispers. I can tell how much your nostrils love feasting on the smell of my trachea and that of my saliva. I grow submissive to my own moans. I am a slave to my own feelings and emotions. You are the god that created them. I
am drowning in a lake of love and romance and I don't need you to save me. I need you to drown me deeper and help me die, for I want my soul to leave my body into to yours. I want to share the same body with you and live in your body tonight. I want my soul to rest in your peace." She whispered gasping, choking to saliva.
"Erotic Confessions"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha

Thursday, 16 February 2017


Light up my way, dear darkness,
Patch up all my cuts, dear sword,
Give me a happy forever sadness,
Please curse me not, oh dear Lord,
I am drowned in a poisonous norm,
I am sorry, I am baptised in venom!

"Baptised In Venom"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha


Wednesday, 15 February 2017


We blow balloons with holes on them,
blowing minds without sanity in them,
went to war with poetry, got paper cuts,
won't aid bruised lips, after a hard talk!

Take my hand, I'll take you for a walk,
you broke promises, and broke hearts,
look, this world is meant for the brave,
sometimes, it's much easier in a grave!

"Poetic Execution"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha

Monday, 13 February 2017


The snow falls, the smoke rises,
Oh, this life, it's full of surprises,
Put that arrow through my heart,
Right here, where it does belong.

Closer, even from miles far apart,
Depths of love and a strong heart,
A sweet together, will not be long,
I knew it right from the very start.

With a gun barrel on my forehead,
I won't denounce, my love for you!
I never knew such love, before you,
Blue is a favourite, a little bit of red,
What we left unsaid's what we read,
Happy Valentines day to you!

Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha


...Years later, I still preserve a lesson I learnt from the old man. "Every life on earth serves a purpose, a worthy one. Sometimes you don’t live for yourself, but for others. Once it is fulfilled, there is no loss in losing it. Where is the loss in a job well done, even without a promised wage? Is there any loss in a good deed? What moulds happiness better out of a man’s life than that? 

"Perhaps life is a gift that we are supposed to pass to others. Perhaps it isn’t supposed to be ours. We call 'life' ours yet we can't control it or where it takes us. Do we really own it? The world is a ball of glued together pieces of misery, and so could be life."

  • Taken from an ending of a story I am working on:)

Sunday, 12 February 2017


As a kid, I never picked my nose. Instead, I picked on other kids. When I grew up, I found it hard to move my lips for an apology but much easier to pull a trigger.  I am a child of the West, where both sides have brown grass with scorpions in them. Where men and women get drunk on venom and make a toast to every fallen soul. The only time we talk to our brothers is when we argue and fight, and the only time we come together is when a soul has perished.

The walls of my house are decorated with guns. That is the only art I know of. I am afraid of the dark. There are snakes nesting in the four corners of my room. That is not a brow! It is a centipede on my forehead. And oh, look! There is a spider crawling out of my ear! 

I want it too, a piece of what you can give; love, but it is poisonous. It will poison my broken hateful heart. You want to make me whole but I feel complete as I am. I am a child of the West. Please, don't love me!

"A Child Of The West"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha

Thursday, 9 February 2017


You left your lipstick, on my cigarette,
my dirty hands on your flowered dress.
The only reason on your face I confess,
is to do away with all this bloody mess.
Stabbed a dear back, stabbed back dear!

Why are all your veins, flowing with rage?
Why is your tale scribbled on a dark page? 
Why are you tossed around, by this wind?
You're meant to rule over these tornadoes!
Honestly, this has never been your storm!

Go ahead head home, to where you belong,
Get out of my head, I've been hurt for long!
Let me sing a song, the sweet freedom song.
I believe that I'll find right, from this wrong.
Promise me that, if we part, you'll be strong.

"Honest Confessions"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha

Wednesday, 1 February 2017


I am walking down a familiar path.
There's a skeleton lying in the dust.
It reminds me of a hundred years ago.
On the very ground, I stand on today,
I died before. 

I am staring at what I used to be, now,
not anymore. That skeleton ceased to
be part of me when I took my own life.
I gifted it to nature, and was born into
a new life.

"The Skeleton In The Sand"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha


Gone are the days that you'd rest your head on my chest and smell the scent of my ripe goosebumps, those days that I would lose count o...