7/13/2019 | PARO

King,

Whadagwaaaan!

Warm salutations from His Highness the King, I believe the Queen sends her regards too. Even if she doesn’t, we are one, anything you receive in my name comes in our name, the Last Family – First of its Reign. Consistency is a habit I’m keenly watching, hoping to nourish the mustard in it to become a fruit-bearing Mugumo tree.

official Paro artwork

I wrote this song on the night I faced my fears. It was sadly, a lonely night. A cold, sadly lonely night, when I came to accept that my greatest dread had manifested.

 

When loneliness crept up on me, like a deadbeat dad in your dms on Fathers Day, and the hair around my neck rose up in sharp, painful tingle, sending a thorny chill down my spine. Faced with the enveloping darkness, and fear of the unknown, I succumbed to the acceptance that truly beyond words, nothing lasts forever, and being a lone, as chilling as it feels, was a feeling I had to adjust embracing.

 

The only true family I had known, were really gone, like Summit, leaving a lionsgate. 

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Like days were still going by; mornings were prancing, and evenings swaying, with them away.

 

Though near, they were so far away.

 

Closer and closer to me, people were dying…

 

Lots of them.

 

Friends, and relatives, family.

 

The quiet ones died the most.

 

It was so scary.

 

I had grown so quiet, with no one to talk to.

 

No one to trust with my thoughts.

 

No one to depend on in the middle of storms.

 

I was losing my life.

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I was losing my mind, yet it wasn’t giving up easily.

 

The only logical thing left was to physically pluck it and throw it away because it couldn’t just stop driving me crazy with endless thinking.

 

Death seemed more peaceful.

 

After all, dead men tell no tales, unless they Christ, and I wanted to talk to nobody about nothing, unless they God. 

 

Suicide was calling.

 

Louder each time, clearer and nearer, with every memory of the past, what was once mine.

 

I smoked so much my heart was tinted dark.

 

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But that’s beyond the point, the blood of Jesus cleanses it back.

 

At that moment of absolute insanity, sitting at the balcony; a J in hand, water right by my side, embraced in the chill of the midnight Umoja breeze, when nothing logical seemed sensible, it hit me that there are yet other’s out there, struggling with bigger demons, fighting mightier battles, witnessing greater horrors. Conquering wars.

 

Giants and Goliaths I knew nothing about. I know nothing about…

 

Swinging and dancing right through the brazen fire of hell.

 

Because, if I could talk to myself on the road lately, without the slightest care of how awkward the looks I received were getting, then it really takes madness to attain some level of personal acknowledgement.

 

For I had seen other’s walking, talking to themselves, on the road, and they looked crazy. Beyond Mathare kind of crazy.

 

Talking to yourself, in public is the highest form of confidence – a worship sort of, and the scariest – as it attracts instant judgment.

 

Humans are soooooooo opinionated.

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I don’t know about those who own cars, and whether they do it in the privacy of their cars.

 

That must be a relief! 

 

Talking to yourself on the road issa call for persecution.

 

Yet, sometimes, it will take madness to bring back your sanity.

 

It’s like the great Peter watching his rider Jesus, just accepting to die for a crime he committed not. Peter’s mouth wide open, staring at Jesus getting tied in chains.

 

This is the same Jesus, who had weathered storms, walked on water to cross rivers, just to unchain the ones attacked by unknown demons – chained and dumped away in caves.

 

The same Jesus who, being more than kind, had fed thousands of his followers more than twice. (I really struggle with feeding mine and they are just nine.) And he was the coolest to have around your block party, coz big brother made the very best wine in the history of winestry. Even his Momma knew that if there was just one thing the boy was finesse at, it was the wine! 

This Jesus loved a good life, for his followers.

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The same Christ who had turned white and left his homies perplexed.

 

And Paul is losing his mind, chopping off ears of soldiers, because he believed so much in Christ’s ministry.

 

Ride or Die shit.

 

Yet, Jesus is collaborating with his enemies, picking up dropped ears, putting it right back on… like a ring or something. 

 

Accepting to be chained and taken away, just like that.

 

We all know how the story goes, when authorities take one away.

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Worse, if he is black.

 

And word on the streets has it Christ must have been black, he had nigga tendencies, in a white man’s world. History is such a great teacher.

 

And guess what’s even sadder?

 

The legendary Belafonte wasn’t even around yet, to belt out a Day O or Jamaica Farewell, when Peter needed him the most.

 

Because, at that instance – when the journey seems to have reached a destination for one of us, and the rest gotta keep going, so your heart is sinking down, head turning around, dying a little death, as you have to leave a truly good loving friend behind – when one needs a soothing assurance that they will not give up the good fight, you realize that you just crave the daylight to come so you can go home – away from all these madness and insanity.

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The body has been crucified, and left hanging lifeless on the cross.

 

And so Peter is just over there like wait, have I actually lived to witness a day like this?

 

You have not known depression like Peter did, I tell ya!

Next episode soon…

In the meantime, let Paro illuminate your fantasy as it soothes your depression away. 

 

@holywrites is now live – https://unitedmasters.com/holywrites

Whatsapp Holywrites on +254724514528 to get more musical tales today.

You have to become.

Blessings & Light.

– #lastfamily

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