In truth…

Saying it will always be hard, but living with it harder,

Believing that it could be real was good, but it BEING real would have been better,

Depth comes in ebbs and flows, but in your case it was in waves that could shatter…




Crushing your own hopes is worse than having them crushed for you,

Staring at an end you’re walking into feels like dooming yourself in yours and the public’s full view,

But what do you do when what is so right would feel so wrong if it ever fell through,

It’s not a deal of any sort, more like a pact to stay true to self and partner, through sunshine yellow and moody blue,

But that would never have been the case for me and you, and accepting the truth, well, if only you knew.



Of course, and justifiably, you will feel that you’re the one who “lost time” in all this,

I agree that it was probably too much bliss in a short period of time that I for one will surely miss,

But if you think about it you’ll realise that you’re Venus while I am Mars,

And while I sit here on Earth with my internet connection and messaging apps,

You’re on another planet having fun sipping on your second (love)… tequila.



…I’m no judge, But out of the respect I must have for myself and you,

I must plead guilty and leave you before I say too much,

Before I lose myself trying to keep up, Before it’s too late for a dysfunctional us…

I must let you go and leave you to chart your path,

Accept that while you were sweeter than my dream of an Immortality Elixir,

I would only suffer the fate of being a stay-at-home brother,

Loving your smile and elegance by day, and left to ponder upon it by night –

while you’re charmed (maybe futilely) by another.



…I honestly think I met you at the wrong time,

And though no dime is worth a crime,

I was willing to forsake my philosophy if only to share another moment with your character so sublime.



But in the end my willingness was baseless, no dime is worth the crime of losing myself irrevocably,

And for that reason fair lady,

we remain not meant to be,

at least not at this point in time, given your present propensities…


Yours hopefully,

Evans Mbora Campbell.



…so I let my pen sieve,

Invisible ink is oblivious to my hands trembling,

Unaware of my feelings, uncertain even of my spellings,

So I type and erase, type and retrace the steps I took to come to this inkling,

This impetus to post something new, from a thought process that grew, a monster within I wish I had slain, “Weakling”



I am in a state of crisis, inside-out I spend my days, and in doubt my nights slip away,

I have my moments, when joy is all but a ploy and happiness is a feeling I can enjoy, but not today,

For on this occasion, I’m the reason my mind has no vacation and my heart is bound to its station, all seems to be in disarray

I wax and wane like the moon, here and there then everywhere, like the thoughts of the insane, quite the month this May…



So what’s life worth to me, what do I value in it that gives me hope to, yet another day, see?

Why should I deserve the best when all I’ve given is second and third, and the quality descent continues infinitely?

What makes ME so special? Surely not my wits for I’m now unsure of their stability, if they even exist that is?

Why is it that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel when the end seems more like that of a funnel, draining into a darkness infinity?



How and when shall I get myself out of this rut, this bog I continue to sink further into, when I should have trusted my gut…

Why should I stand and say I’m to be counted when I was never there to start with? The lost nut,

Well, if there IS one thing I do know, it’s that I’m meant to end this here and now, or something like that,

While the fact remains that I fear my power to do so is hardly worthy of the task – I am but a tire flat.



Yours in perpetuity,


Evans Mbora Campbell.


…stole my gaze,

So powerful is the sight of her that I pray this is all just a phase,

How soon can I be falling when I have barely stood up again?

Yet this time I have nothing to gain,

Because hers is another man’s last name,

And I swore to myself that in such circumstances my passions I would tame.


…brings out the fire that I mask with smoke within,

I can’t help the fact that she makes me as concerned as the campaign Going Green,

I melt away and just want to be there to keep all that envelopes her serene,

But that would be stepping into a dangerous field with no protective means.


…remains the best I MAY never have as my love,

But I remain grateful for whatever I am granted, her presence in my life is enough,

The wish for more shall remain quite the unquenched thirst,

But the respect I bestow upon her essence and being keeps that wish as just that.


…shall remain the one with the warm embrace,

The one with the glowing, meritorious face,

The new friend who earned herself a golden place,

The beauty who walked into my heart’s room and left him addicted to her tactful grace.


…may not notice me,

But, I remain as I am to all who I cherish exceedingly,

To be there for her, however much I treat my feelings discreetly,



Hers in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.


The one thing I ever did with all my heart,

The one weapon I’d spare for my life-or-death brawl,

The egg I’d never let fall,

But they spat on it and decided I’m not fit enough for all this after all,

I’m left wondering if dreams should be stopped by a panel of 2×4,

Was my vision flawed because it focused on the weakest links from which to build on?



Are the basics no longer consequential?

Was there just one perspective to view it from?

Was it objective or biased, who decided everything when the final moment dawned?

Am I to sit back and arrest the heartbreak for being wrong?

Lock it away and act like it hasn’t left me feeling lifeless and deeply torn?

Is there a point to all this pain, is it to make me gain when my mind was set on something now gone?

All these questions I mull endlessly upon,

Yet I have no answers to any of them and feel like my passion was misunderstood if not ignored,

My experience a non-factor, if not foregone…



Blood, sweat, tears,

Money, days, YEARS,

All for this moment, a different taste in my mouth from that I dreamed about and endeared,

It all feels far worse than weird,

My heart sunken, probably lost at sea or in an ocean charted only by Black Beard,

I don’t know what I could tell everyone else who believed in me, “flowery language” disappeared,

I’m articulate, but towards something else I’m apparently geared…



I’ll forever remember being a part of a beautiful place,

Two best friends, five countries and so many smiles it put on my face,

Which is why, despite everything, I will certainly remain,



Yours in perpetuity,


Evans Mbora Campbell.

*** don’t shine here…

*** don’t shine here where it’s cold and grim and nothing but sin seems to come from him,

His actions are unclear as the light that guides them always seems to dim or IS too dim,

Life and love, interesting yet chances of surviving both seems to be slim seeing as everyone dies, logic that escapes most it may seem,

All the same, it’s the small things that he can’t understand, from the way he can defend his stance only to realise later that it was all equivalent in essence to an inconsequential chant,

Why must he rant when it would be much simpler to keep his mouth shut and let the actions speak louder? Is the trait so reluctant? 

Is it that he has lost all the charm he once had in an instant? Is his development to remain stunted, the sharpening of his tips done, all to be left blunt?

Has he been so blunt with all but too light-hearted with himself, the pot calling the kettle black?

In light of all that he faces in times current, it seems the above is apparently fact…





*** don’t shine here where things remain capricious yet he dares to predict them, ambitious?

Ignoramus is more like it, bashing his lack of brilliance in the face of several a chance would be lightening the sentence to that of the undeserving of it, unrighteous?

Yes, but of course, how else would you explain the fact that all that’s so vain is no longer looked down upon with disdain but exalted as if precious?

Life and love, “What and WHAT?” he may ask…



*** don’t shine here, to be quite sincere, all things dear left in a time that must have clocked over a year,

The frost that has engulfed the heart he once knew is yet to thaw, too strong is its grip on the only organ that could beat and hear,

If there was any chance that it could be rescued, it rested in the one he may well slowly and painfully have to loosen his embrace for, life and love?

Probably giving him a sneer as they jeer while he shrinks back into the cold dark corner he attempted to leave, where things queer all appear dear,

and finding what is right for you is based on sheer happenstance, quite the predicament even for those armed with the right gear…



*** don’t shine here probably because the only one that ever did turned out to be a reflection in the water for him,

The one thing you trust so truly, hold onto almost unnaturally, becomes your wreckage in a moment as short yet as long as a Golden Bells hymn,

You can’t take out the frustrations in a gym, neither can you listen to the saddest music and sing along, nothing seems to make the wounds heal,

The fireplace where the furnace once burned remains empty and full of ash, embers that attempt to burst into flames forever cursed to appeal,

Yet he is told that from this, hope can be found, he can survive to be living and loving again, something The Jaded of his type never believe in…



Oh well, he can only take each day as it comes and dream, what else can a man do when all that once made him whole seems to drop away from him by his own doing?

Apparently because of things passed he can’t begin to relate to in the present reality within which he seeks what is fulfilling?

Questions that hopefully won’t remain unanswered while I am




Yours in perpetuity,


Evans Mbora Campbell.

The ω of the α

He lost his mind and crushed his heart with it,
Now he endures a consequence he cannot forfeit,
The funniest thing is that he was aware of how hard it could hit
Yet he let in the impetus to commit-
the offence for which there is no defence irrespective of your excuse’s phrasing,



Thus he sits and realises how intense the situation is,
It will all actually get harder before the onset of ease,
So crisis after crisis he must deal with now, with a mind of his own making, improvisation for the mindless is tantamount to a tease,
How is it that all he ever does is the opposite of what he needs,
Doesn’t the yield deserve to be good and so too the means?
Yet this level of thought seems to elude his line of sight, he knows neither his q’s nor his p’s,
Fit for the results? Perfectly; he is the definition of the paradoxical masterpiece,
A jigsaw whose owner would never master in peace, for the effort he would need to muster to place each piece would leave his mind addled and nothing short of unappeased…



He must be seeking something he needs to put a finger to, but the revelation of what that is escapes him each time he brushes it with a finger or two,
What must he do to understand himself without shutting out the world in and to which he is lost, must he sit and wait until the frost sticks to him like glue,
that in the cold and cruelty of it all, buried by the snowfall, he may find the final chess move?
That life may see it fit to be defeated by a fool is surreal, but that is exactly what he must do…



If indeed his is the path of the lost, and he made a mistake taking the wrong right,
then he realises now that he must return to where it all began within himself and leave at the next left, following the hope that there shall be light to guide his foresight,
In hindsight he realises there could be something he’s shutting out that keeps barging in, he must face it as soon as he can without compromising the essentials he has to deal with, insight-
must be found in calming down and finding grounding, then settling down to start a fire and with it igniting his own inside…



All that said, he’s sure he shall rise again, like white on rice his zeal shall remain true and from it he shall yield a gain,
Life has taught him a lot through pain, and even more through the struggle to surmount it, pure strain,
Which leaves him confident that the colour in his face shall return along with the grace that fled with it never to be traced, but hidden in sight plain…



Writing on his behalf, I’m sure he’ll get through it all,
When we trip ourselves we fall,
And when we disrespect our selves, we injure all (who care for us at all),
But what matters is that when in our court we find the ball,
We pick it up irrespective of our flaws,
and make the best of the lessons our evils have left us with, big or small


Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

The only thing…

…keeping him sane at the moment is the fact that like a pilot in a crashing plane, he’s hoping,

…keeping him humane is the fact that none can plan for the worst of happenings,

and he’s no exception to the rule, irrespective of his thought school, helpless he is in the face of his sins,

He’s admittedly a fool, doing things to interfere with what he wants to build, destroying all that he could ever hope to yield, self-destructive


…that can explain his present existence is the fact that he’s sitting there, writing in the present tense, venting?

Maybe not, maybe he just can’t stand to face the ceiling when the floor is all he’s accustomed himself to, kneeling



…that can explain his stance so lost in the presence of inexplicable, unprecedented pain, is possibly the fact that he’s been so vain,

Selfish, egocentric, sanctimonious, self-righteous, ignorant and errant, none, from any of all this, stands to gain,

but like the fifth attribute implies, he was negligent when the knowledge of it was laid before him that he may salvage shreds of himself from the looming battering

and now he swallows the pill that came with his Consequence prescription, accepting reality as, to see, plain



…that life hasn’t managed to ravage is his passion for what he loves,

It is all that he has safely caged to offer courage in the face of imminent corruption from what he has done,

He shall survive only because he believes he can be freed, thus he shall sojourn in this hell and mourn, the flames are where he shall be reborn



…that life hasn’t managed to become is endless paradise, a pipe dream for all he guesses, but one that he supposes we’d all find nice,

He believes in the end of all bad things in life, but that of all good things seems to be what keeps his satisfied,

so he decides that he shall fight through the sloughs of depression to find a resurrection, hopefully a wonderful afterlife



…I know  for sure,

is that he meant it when he said he was sorry, expecting everything, even nothing



I remain his equal, foe and friend, understanding his predicament but admonishing him for it,

His conscience in the face of the circumstances, never shall he lose sight of what he did



Yours in perpetuity,


Evans Mbora Campbell.

I Walked Out…

…and left you standing there to stare at my silhouette as I drifted farther away, so far I went,
Once we were certain that for each other we were best, short-lived moments had us convinced that we were each other’s safest bet,
YET, now I can barely remember the last time our eyes met without leaving me feeling less adept at speech or completely taking away my ability to comprehend the importance of a complete sentence!
I’m finding myself on the ground, the floor upon which I have knelt with my back bent and my neck spent, staring at an empty space and wondering where your feet, those I once kissed, went…

…and they say that “Such is life” amongst many other things I think are merely meant to sway,
But as the days lapse and my brain remains seemingly entrapped in the thought of all that I did that caused dismay, I begin to feel their proposition makes sense, in a way,
I could benefit from not blaming myself for every “Goodbye” I deliver with a *sigh* and a response characterised sometimes by just short of a cry,
But instead I continue to let the pressure on my self pile and continue to defy my own wishes, acting as if unaware that I deserve the best and the better has to be encountered sometimes.

…so you may have no doubt that I will not return, for in as much as the initial stages may burn, it’s for the best that another page we turn.

From life and love, the strife and pain that comes from all of the above, all we can ever do to gain from the sinking ship is LEARN.

Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

Act Like You Know…

…that I’m not here just because I’ve got a role and it involves lending you an ear,

Like you can see that I dare not deceive when clearly I’ve given more than I would for the common fair lady,

Like you hear it in my voice when I refer to thee, or when I achieve a sense of clarity in your presence, filled with Glee,

Like you can feel the serenity that eventually prevails even when for a second or three, ire dominates a scene involving you and me!





…that if I really didn’t see anything beyond the complex simplicity that defines you, I would have been quick to pursue another course with a resolve more true,

Yet I apparently settled for your flaws and perfections, your good and your bad infectious despite my remonstrations, I have no clue –

how it is just you that can colour my Monday blue, then return colour to it, a black and white picture you drew which now has you filled with  rue –

becomes the next best thing any of us ever knew and its grim beginnings disappear, dismissed as easily as the untrue!





…that I wouldn’t put so much effort into this if I thought it wasn’t a battle to be fought,

I’ve admittedly made my mistakes, serious transgressions that led to heartfelt confessions, THAT cannot be forgotten, and I expect that up it will be brought,

But the only reason I found the strength to not be a cunning fox, is because hiding things from you would only make me more of an idiot!

I know not what could possibly liberate from this emotional net within which I lie caught,

but I do know that I put myself out there prepared for the result, and I’m not sure if you would take me as I am based on what I’ve got –

a closet with skeletons, a heart with whims and a head with dreams, I could just be the next guy you give a NOT…






…I can’t be perfect at reading the unwritten,

Actions may be said to speak louder than words, but opening your mouth remains an action in the end,

If you could speak out what you think and let out whatever it is that you feel, I’m but a recipient of your will, albeit a recipient smitten,

If I could see into your heart and mind as you probably can see into mine, I would possibly survive knowing my fate to be sealed and if negative, be once bitten,

But for now I grope helpless at the mercy of actions you say I should assess but that only cause my curiosity to deepen, as questions you wouldn’t answer continue to ring bells in my head…






…that I CAN deal with what will follow from all this, antecedents support my claims,

I have had my fair share of defeats at the hands of the beautiful, and in the face of it all, I challenged my aims,

I regrouped my pieces, made myself a man as I once was, scarred but ever-determined to see to it that this human heart remains,

That heart in which you’ve slowly began encroaching, warming even, after several winters left it tainted and devoid of hope, vain!






…all of me, though you might argue it to be acting prematurely, wishes to be yours,

whether or not that tenure lasts into perpetuity, we can only leave to the Lord,

but what matters is that you know,

Evans Mbora Campbell/Muthee, is available on the shelf of your nearest store,

Currently with an indefinite Best Before.





Yours in perpetuity,

~Evans Mbora Campbell~