I drill my soul in the pouring rain ... interrogate my very being
Mercilessly, ruthlessly,
While shunning you, my fellow earthlings.
I burrow deep into the slimy molasses
Of the intensely pleasurable moments experienced
In my past life eons ago, long before your stone-age ancestors
Turned to wood and metal,
Turned from crude sex to love making.
I shudder at the infinite yearning spaces in my modern brain,
So I ask, brethren, what am I all about? What are we doing here?

Am I Cain reincarnate, I wonder...
Offering my contemporary gods
A concoction of cold beer, herbal tea and the spoils of white meat
On a crowded shrine, squeezed in-between brothels and noisy pubs
In downtown Kampala?
By the way, do the modern day gods fancy white meat and herbal stuff?

What are we, earthlings? Are we desolate, abandoned children
Unraveling the complex toys of nature
Before we fall asleep over them? ...
Or are we evolving gods, seeking refinement and wisdom,
Unaware of the very mission for which we were created?

I long to encapsulate myself from the tainting smell
Of the pyromaniacs setting the world ablaze in the name of brotherhood
And peace and other irrational reasons
To sneak stealthily through sleepy villages
In Venice and Kwa Zulu Natal, Paris and Cairo.
Occasionally perusing silky Arabic petticoats, caressing Parisian guitars
Feeling the rusty Zulu spears with jazz sounds in the background-
Looking for a clue to my very existence... Our very being

What are we doing here, mankind?
Could we be trapped in this sodden world
To seek pleasure and pain in every manner?
Or do we have a more significant, inner purpose
Maybe hidden in the pattern on Joseph's coat of many colors?
Or should we also search the billowing smoke
From the angry volcano in Iceland
For a clue of what we are ... and by extension who I am?

I go to sleep, thumb in mouth, still peering into the depths
Of my senses and being ... your being
Shuddering at the sudden realization that what I see in you
Is what I am ... a celebration of doom...
A disciple with many messiahs ... a long chilled soul
Finally melting in the midnight sun.