Bumbi

Bumbi ~ \'bum-"bee\
[noun] Shona
-Insulting term.

1. Fool

2. A male who is often taken advantage of by female(s) without gain.

Alternative: Bharanzi

It's quite enough,now, ladies! And I use the term ladies loosely.

They [ladies] had my number.
I was had and by jolie they enjoyed me...for all I was worth.
I was charitable, required nothing in return.
I drove, I bought, I called, I cuddled.
I remembered (unless I was told to forget) I forgave, I apologised, I understood.

Don't get me wrong, the above are all noble qualities...
...If you're in to being noble.
You could become a knight!
....and, in your shining armour, ride to your damsel...
...because she's in distress....
...But, riddle me this, why is she in distress? I'll tell you why-
It's because JonnyBeBad has just given her the Benefit but he doesn't have time for her Bullshit!
And now she wants to cuddle. Good thing you're there for her whenever she she needs a friend [read: Bumbi]

And only now has it hit me, this blatant disregard!
They don't take me seriously as a *Varume
...it smells funny and i'm not
Going to eat it...
...anymore.

This wrong must be put right.

Don't get me wrong though, there are girls that have ended up my good friends....
They got in early.
But now there are so many of them around that I feel I should be MANstruating in sync with them!

To those that are my friends, realise that you can not have GF Benefits if you're not participating.

To those late to the party...
....still standing at the door....waiting to see what I'm good for....kindly bend over.


*Varume - you've seen the sign on the Gentlemen's toilet door - VARUME, yet, it is one man that stands proud, arms and legs akimbo, representing ALL men.



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Please do not feed the Models

I stand for the Protectection of "modellars" and I am against the cruelty inflicted upon them
Through interogations disguised as "question time".

I beleive all questions that do not relate to their beauty, the colour of their dress or the first name of the person who made it are totally irrelevant.
The only other exceptable question is one that leads into the answer "World Peace".

What you, the public, have done is turned a perfectly working beautiful woman into a dumb blond just by asking stupid irrelevant questions about her future, politics etc.

...And now you've confused this wonderful species into beleiving they should be clever to win a pageant.
For goodness sakes, just let the woman look pretty!

All the change she will effect is because of her beauty not because of her opinion on the current macro economic climate.
The prettier she is, the more change she will effect.

Since when was so much expected of someone just because they were beautiful?

Everyone can be intelligent if they really try (and/or if they have access to google) but beauty...this is not to be taken lightly.
Nor is it to be bundled with another qualifying characteristic.

I say, look and appreciate the beauty without question (pun intended)

No models were harmed in the writing of this blog

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Fuck Steve Harvey

Who's side is he on anyway?
With his white teeth and big grin masking oral incontinence through gender betrayal! Obviously not on our [men] side!

But guess what? He's not on your [women] side either.

You see, women used to know us. They had fantasies of who we might be and what we might do and whilst this was misguided and often cause of many problems, if they were honest with themselves they really did [past tense] know us.

They knew exactly what would happen if they slept with us quickly [nothing out of the ordinary]. Or if they took they're time [nothing out of the ordinary (if we waited to find out)].
They new our intentions [Even if we didn't have any]

But now, good old Steve has them attempting to think like a man does[I'm hungry]

The [un]fortunate thing is Stev-o didn't pull y'all to the side and whisper this in your ear....
He wrote it in a book and despite popular belief Men do read [Occassionally]

Barring which ofcourse, you're all telling us what the book says anyway and what our actions mean [thanks for that cause we didn't know how deep we actually are]

Unfortunately this will only help you with the past.

The reason man has survived is we adapt... And now that you have a manual that you're following we will be sure to play our role [As expected]
We'll be sure to act surprised when you jump from behind the couch [Book in Hand]

Actually...maybe he is on our side...


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Repeat Business

Love is procreatively recreational.
The beauty of it's recreation is procreation
And because of our need to procreate
We re-create. 
We search for similarity,
For a warmth once felt
From someone who is not present in our past
And yet who's future should feel familair.  

And just as there are single parents,
So too are there single lovers. 
All bellied up with love, unrequited.  
Content with the recreation; 
Filled with what should be good. 

And so we find ourselves there again,
The place we tried to forget.  
In forgeting we do not recognise it is the same road. 
Fimliarity is cruel to love
Yet kind to hate. 

Don't re-create Love
For if you knew what it was, you would still have it 
Find it anew ... Create! 
Even if it's with the same person
Redefine what everyone thinks they know

 

 

Wake Up

I woke up to the pitter and patter of rain drops;
So Similar that I could tell them apart.
The first drop loud enough to be considered a pitter yet soft enough to allow the patter to take over without drowning the next pitter.
Before I could get over the sound of the first drop,
the second would announce its arrival in such a way that I would expect to hear the first again.
Lightening and thunder would brake the wet air, cutting it dry, yet still the pitter and patter would persist, gently.
And as it continued to fall i rose,
with each awakening playfully exchanging like the pitter and patter,
till the sound was loud enough for me to smell and the wetness moist enough to see and with sight, suddenly, I was wide awake, too aware to appreciate.
I knew exactly what was going on....It was just a little rain.

Fuck Santa (Part II)

The reason is:
I've seen Little Red Riding Hood
And she has everything the Big Bad Wolf could want
Nevermind her basket FULL of Goodies
I want everything she can't give me
I want Her and her Grandmother
I want it ALL Santa but you're trying to get me to bed early
So you can reward me with a belly of stones
And as much as I want to be FULL
Its the decadence of indulgence that I'm after
And not the WEIGHT of satisfaction
I don't have the patience to wait till Christmas

Fuck Santa (Part I)

Fuck Santa,
I'm gonna be naughty
No need to know if I've been good
Cause it's all going to be bad. 
In my defence, you've stopped bringing me presents anyway!
So I'm not gonna cry but I will pout and this is why...

Of Books & Their Covers

Judge me
It's my book, I covered it
Perceive your reality
Make it my truth
Aid the depravity of this truth
Abet this truth through judgement
Judge me
And use it to cover me
Judge & jury Reading out my sentences
I am but a book to be read
And my book has blown your cover
Judge me, I'm covered.
You're Honourd, be my judge.  

Quickly, before you know what's happening

I fall in love, 
Quickly and often
Giving it no chance to manifest
It stays as love
I wish I would fall out of love
As quick and as often
Yet, I sit there, on the chamber
Oblivious to the smell accumulating
And so I become 
Depleted,Dissipated, spent
It's conception worse than it's birth
And yet still I love
Quicker yet less often
And just as I am, I love
Without adjective  

Lime Green Suitcases

I packed a bag yesterday
mainly clothes and other such facades
exteriors that I have now confined to the interior
of my lime green suitcases.
A suitcase who's outward appearance is bright enough to
mask the squashed wrinkled chaos within

I really didnt think I had that much
and I'm not entirely sure i need it all
but nonetheless it is packed, ever so neatly,
in my limegreen suitcase - Filled full to the brim

I'm going to send the bag ahead
and I hope they receive it as a spokesperson
heralding my pending arrival
rather than a warning shot which can only be followed by
chaos and mahem.

I have two more suitcases to pack, they're also Lime green
I dont have the same things to put them
but I will still fill them full
with more imprtant stuff
stuff that I can not send ahead
Stuff that must remain with me
me

I'm a lime green suitcase
filled full to the brim
packed ever so neatly
with clean wrinkled clothes
just waiting to be aired

Stumble and Stand

Before you fall you stumble.
Your body does everything possible
to try and keep you in an upright position
Or at least minimise the impact of your fall.

And this is what my body did/does
for the first couple of weeks of my nutritional plan [read Diet].
It kept stumbling, not knowing that I wanted to fall.
Self preservation I guess, even if it was preservation of my current
unsummer worthy body.
Alarm bells start going off, mini stumbles, that involve a dry mouth, loud uncontrolable stomach growls, well thought out excuses, bad breadth, mood swings, hunger pains in my heart....


This made me wonder, what else my Physical and Metaphysical,
In a self destructive separation,do in the name of such preservations?

Is my inner being working with me or against me in what it thinks is right
for me? What is right for me?

What am I subconsciously not doing?
What options am I not taking?
What life am I not living?

Are the words coming out of my mouth the same as those that I'm thinking?
Are my principles abundantly apparant in my actions?
What/Who is my character?

Or am I stumbling? Trying not to fall even though I really should not be standing like this?

Actions need not be explained. They, should be explanations within themselves.

I must fall into a higher standing

The fat Boy and I

Tum Tum

Susan Boyle

If ever I saw an angel, she did not look like this.

Maybe this is why I never see angels?
I fail to recognize their unproven beauty
Yet in spite of this they show themselves
shocking my childish disdain into quiet guilt.

If ever I saw an angel, she did not look like this.

I was too busy looking at their teeth and not their smile.
Feeling the sweat (in) and not the warmth (of) the handshake
Laughing at THEM and not at their jokes

If ever I saw an angel, she did not look like this.

Thankfully acceptance is not a prerequisite of/for the pius.
And sometimes, we can be helped by the people we think are weak.
How lucky we are - we frown, jeer, belittle, assume,
yet still, we bask in the warmth of their sunlight.

If ever I saw an angel, she did not look like this
But i am glad, none-the-less, that I have seen her.
I'm sure now, I will see many more.

He Kexin and Jiang Yuyuan

...Are Chinese gymnasts who were rumored to be underage and thus ineligible to compete in the Olympics. They did, and won - Gold.

What is interesting, at least for me anyway, is that being underage is an advantage.
And the two main reasons for this? Fear and flexibility, or, to be more acurate, more of the latter and less of the former.

I went skating this weekend and i so wished I was a Chinese gymnast!
This was my first time on ice, I felt like whiskey, mature, cold.
I could hardly walk in the skates and i wasn't on the ice yet!
I went out and I was plagued, barraged with thoughts that obviously didn't go through the minds of alleged 'underage' gymnasts.

I was scared.
What if I fell, and broke my leg, I didn't have insurance, how would I get to the hospital, could I afford treatment, what if i split my head, and bled to death, how would they fly my body home, who would pay for it, my mum would NOT be happy!!!
*'Psychologically, younger gymnasts may be more fearless, and have less visceral appreciation for the potential for injury. They are therefore more likely to perform more dangerous, and more highly scored, routines with confidence and steadiness.'

My body also felt different compared to,say......an alleged underage Chinese gymnast.
I/it was tense and rigid. My body hardened, expecting a bump, a fall, death!
*'Physically, younger gymnasts, particularly those who have not yet gone through puberty, tend to be lighter, smaller, more pliable and flexible, which aids them in performing more complex skills and gives them a better strength-to-weight ratio.'


People were watching, they were all looking at me, they new I couldnt skate, they were waiting for me to fall, they were wizzing past me, in the hope that they would scare me and I would fall....Well not really, and as soon as i realized that I let go of the side of the rink.
He who dares, wins.

I had loads of fun after that, perhaps as much fun as an alleged underage chinese gymnast winning gold.

Then it happened, I fell, flat on my back.
Nothing broke, bruised or bled.
This single moment of loss of control, was in fact the best part of the night.
It didn't even hurt. Then i remembered a statement I had heard before...

'It may hurt, but it won't hurt anything'

I'm old enough to be Chinese gymnast but would prefer it if I was allegedly underage...Its the only way to win gold.

Run little boy...Run!

When i worked in Zambia, my route to work, went through a high density suburb.
The kind that are built close to the road for all to see.

On one such occasion, I witnessed an event which I now find relevantly telling.

A young boy had just commited what I can only assume was a punishable offense
and there, right outside his home, right next to the road, A woman, who I can only assume was His mother, was issuing said punishment by beating him with a broom she had been using to sweep the yard, hoping, I can only imagine, to brush away all his sins as it had the leaves in the yard.

Everytime she hit him, he would be overwhelmed by the pain and run away BUT not out of reach. His mother, purely out of love ofcourse, would catch up and issue more CORRECTIONAL PERSUASION.

As I drove passed I wondered why this boy just didn't run away, then it dawned on me: That was his mother whom he LOVED so much he COULDN'T even COMPREHEND.
She too, LOVED him to the extent that she believed her actions, though harsh, could be separated from her love or worse still, perhaps, taken as a show of love.
The boy was at home, where he BELONGED and as such could not run anywhere as he would soon have to return.
And this, was all on display, for all to see, interpret and have an opinion about.

Today, I find this story relevant, in love, especially of those that hurt us and continue to do so.
I hope, someday, like the little boy, we will use these 'beatings' to shape our lives and soon, grow enough to love, leave,let live and find a new home.
'Far from the madding crowds ignoble strife'

A relationship of fear

I pray, but not to God, he's temperamental and sometimes just doesn't listen.
Instead, it gives me time to just close my eyes and consider.
It gives my thoughts time to think and my heart time to heel.
Time to make sense of it all and in a godly voice
give answers to my own questions.

I read the Bible, a very long time ago, when I was young
and just like Mcgyver, I dare not do it now lest I be disappointed.
And just as 'read' changes in tense, so to has the bible which I have now consigned to past tense, where, like a horoscope, It was broad enough to encompass everyone yet still specific enough for you to see your name in print.

And in a world where consequences are more immediate
and the afterlife is an after thought,
Where judgment is passed by peers
and laws made by man,
Where sentences are passed and served here on earth
I find my god has been replaced by conscience.

I have finally come to realize and accept the randomness that is life.
What a hard realisation it is.
Where good goes unrewarded, sometimes
Where the bad escape punishment, sometimes
Where help comes too late if at all, sometimes

And so, when god is apprantly testing me
When he is letting me learn the lesson
When I should just rely on my faith
When I should wait for him
When i should be praying to him
I've decided to just get on with it
fate/karma will just have to catch up

Life is a random occurrence of unrelated events.

Uncomfortable

I'm not entirely comfortable with profiting off death & Cancer, though given the opportunity I too would get my money right.

I'm not entirely comfortable with drunk women being allowed plausible deniability on grounds of inebriation though I do wonder why a man would sleep with a woman that drunk?

I'm not entirely comfortable with previously disadvantaged people claiming more than their worth though i must admit equality is less gratifying.

I'm not at all comfortable with criminals having rights, surely the law should be used against such people and not to protect them?

I'm not at all comfortable with the apparent authority given to a geriatric clergyman especially when he doesn't appear to understand our times.

I'm not entirely comfortable with children being added to the shopping basket of resources available for pilferage from Africa.

I'm not entirely comfortable with the exorbitant prices charged for the 50 shows and don't actually believe there will be 50 price worthy shows though given the opportunity I too would get my money right.

Puppy Love

A night club is not the best place to try and pick up women.
Think about it, the music is too loud for you to speak in full, clever,enticing sentences and
By the time you see that oh so special girl, she's seen so many of you that she doesnt know who the real slim shady is -
Even if i stand up!
And because of the sheer number of shady's shes had to deal with, she will assume she knows what I'm about, what i'm going
to ask, what I want, and beleive it or not, she does - There are only so many variations of incomplete sentences available.
How do you convey your desire for a woman in a look from across the dancefloor without staring?


when I smile you snear
when I speak, you can not hear
when I compliment, you jeer

do you remember a time

Where you could smile at a girl and she would smile back
Where descriptions of eyes, smiles and style were the only way to mack
Where a nigth out involved slow jams and you could slow dance
Where you could show you were together just by holding hands
Where you needed a dark place so noone would see you kissing
So you always went to movies and you called it smooching
and you didnt have popcorn cause it would get into your teeth and that would
be a bad idea if you were going to kiss someone
Where courting was about how much you liked a person "I really Like you"
where you worried about what you'd say not what you'd pay


Bring back those simple times

But who shall bring them back?
If not I, then who?

My first love - How sweet it was.
We got excited when we saw each other to the extent that
we could see the excitement in each other.
I remember getting those letters on that papaer that they all wrote on.
With smudges from where she had sprayed her perfume.
No sex, just a lot of kissing and feeling of boob
(I cant ever remember fondling both of her breasts for some reason)
I remember, vividly, going to her 'O' Level dance and just siting and doing nothing
Holding hands, hugging...Loving, even though at that stage I don't think we knew what it was.
And then at the end of the night, going home - in fact we didnt even know how we were going
home, cause that didnt even matter. Me and my mates walked from that school, all the way down second
street extension and it didnt matter.

I'm even smiling typing this out.

Love is the answer

The next girl I have (or more importantly is gracious eough to have me) is gonna get it big time!

The pre-game smack talk was relentless, I was feeling pretty confident after our win over Real but winning at Old Traford isn't an easy task. We, my uncle and I, went to watch it in Luton at Whitehouse. We were late, cause we're black like that and when we got there all the Zimba's were in full spirit. You'll always find Zimbo's gravitate to the same drinking hole - Something about safety in numbers though from what I always see, safety is quite the opposite of what you'll see.

There were some Mancs chanting in the corner next to our herd. In amongst the herd, I was surrounded by mancs, I stood bravely taking big gulps of my beer - so much for all the running!

The mancs were chanting, singing, cocky bastards. 

"Glory glory Man Uniiiited...." I took another gulp and started wondering if i rally should have said all those things earlier...ah well, balls to the wall....

THATS NOT A PENALTY!!! ARE YOU MAD!!! WTF!!!

1-0 shit, I really shouldnt have been that vocal...

More chanting from the mingy Mancs!

Then it happened, torres, come on......Goal!!!!!!!

Everybody's cheering, there they are my fellow scousers!!!

"Liiiiiiverrrrrrpooooool, liverpool, liverpool..."

Where were you guys??!! And then it began, like a tennis match, back and fourth, chanting, singing, shouting.....

1-1

Wait, another goal, what happened to all the Mancs that were standing around me?

Where are those loud mingy mancs gone to..."Your not singing anymore..."

LIVERPOOL!!!!

Mancs = gone to the toilet (probably to kotch with disgust)

Mancs = gone for a scaver (probably to calm their nerves)

Mancs = gone to the bar to get a dring (probably to drink away their sorrows)

"Raphael.....Benitez"

1-3

Shame, they're singing again, the mancs, they looked a lot bigger when I got here, they're so tiny, little boys even - Have they got ID?!

"We are the champions..."

Another goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Who are ya!? Who are ya?!..."

1-4

My uncle, the mingy manc, creaps up behind me avoids eye contact and tries to say ever so forcefully, 'Ay, lets go, we gotta go to the launderette *****the washing machine isnt working so we had all the dirty linen in the car*****.

I was more interested in airing the dirty linen of Man U...I started singing, in his face "Liiiiiverrrrrpoooool, liverpool, liverpool!!!...."

He, my uncle, the mongy manc, tried to pull me out but I wasnt having it!!

"Liiiiiverrrrrpoooool, liverpool, liverpool!!!...."

This was the worst defeat at old Traford in 17 years!!

Go on Liverpoool!!!

Whilst this was going on, thanks to the beauty of technology I was being the worst winner i could be. Phoning, texting, twittering, facebook....I'm still doing it now, relentlessly!

LIVERPOOL!!!

YOU WILL NEVER WALK ALONE unless ofcourse you're Manchester united.

Go on Liver!

We won we won we won!!

How sweet it is!