Champagne Time Travel

 After his time travel experiments being rejected by the Parque UPM; the research institute of Technical University of Madrid. The basement of his apartment at Ciudad Universitaria became the refuge for Miguel’s “silly experiments” and the intersection of his two-worlds. First, was the world embracing Madrid, and its old-new walls, and its art— drawn and built by history and civilization. The other, more beautiful virtual-world was his mind; where Trannie’s eerie glary blue-eyes lived. He has been building a machine; to crystalise the myth of time-travel, for 3 years. This evening, the machine’s failure has pissed him. He now only wants a bottle of champagne to piss on his throat. He leaves for the kitchen; forgetting to turn off—the machine. A pop, a taste-of-champagne, and snoring follow. He, later, awakes in the depth of the night, and moves towards the basement with his champagne-bottle. He finds the engine humming, for the first time.
“Freaking-Albert-Einstein” He yells. He pushes the machine to the lawn, punches some buttons and keys; weightlessness ensues and he vanishes from the lawn.
It’s 2560 BC. Horselaughs are drawing near—from the desert-sand of Giza. It is Pharaoh Khufu’s soldiers returning from a patrol, at dusk. They meet a wounded, unconscious young-man in his twenties, perhaps. They think of killing him—mistaking him for a slave escaping from the pyramid-building-sites. One of them hesitates; showing them a bottle containing a sweet-smelling-substance; a bottle-of-champagne. They fear he is supernatural because of his transcendental arrival. They decide to report this strange man to the royal-palace. One their way, a princess meets them as he’s regaining consciousness.  He knows her, figuratively. But, he can’t speak to her in their Coptic-language.
Their princess resembles Trannie—a childhood friend whom he had met often in 2007 in Spain with her family, at the wine tours, until her mysterious farewell. If Trannie were a bird, his mind would be perfect to be called her nest; from the time he saw her glary blue-eyes, until this sudden reunion when he time travels to ancient Egypt from 2017 AD.
In 2550 BC, 10 years later, he invents aromatic substances for embalming mummies of the Royal families which were being buried without treatment. They are now treated, preserved in fragrance. He makes the sweet smelling embalmment-substance using champagne.
He has, however, learnt from their literature that the royal families weren’t humans but demigods; immortal aliens from Jupiter who brought civilization to Egypt. They are laid to rest in the pyramids awaiting reincarnation, for decades.
When the Khufu dynasty falls, around 2494 BC, the aliens return to Jupiter; revering champagne—not as a mere drink but as an embalmment-substance. However, champagne can’t be produced on Jupiter which doesn’t have the soil that supports growth of grapes and yeast—for fermentation. So, they would come to Madrid, at wine tours, in 2007 to get champagne. Miguel wants to return home before the downfall of their dynasty, but is now trapped in ancient Egypt.

Inspired by Toledo Tour find more at




Hey Mr. Destitute!
How many cold nights have you spent on this restless dormitory?
How many children would you have born over the years on these streams flowing with dust?
Don’t tell me about your plight
I know it least I know you from a mere glance
This glance that scans -in the blink ofan eye
You entire terrible life -if it’s even worth calling a life
Some one told me humans are the opposite of beasts
Reality defers from that -my antithesis
Save for the fact that a feeble number are cannibals

They slay you quietly -incognito
In their minds
In their iimagination
In their sleeping alertness
Some one chops off your head..swiii!
Just because you weren’t agile enough to dodge
And you tripped over a toy from his merchandise

They pluck out your heart -bom!!
Straight out of your shrunken chest
Just for having your toe poke on their century-old shoes
Those shoes that are never free of the captivity of the most brown and infertile soil
They can’t dream of just leaping over your skeletons..
You beggar!
We just leap over you consciously
We can’t wait to do it
Neera neera.. and again and again

The taxis sound for you the most irritating of jingo bells from December to December
The shops serve you with a cocktail of our diversity in music and noise
The roads present you with the most variable of identities
The hawkers sing and rap for your misfortune
You can’t afford to buy from them
By the way -they’re not singing for you
These identities that never idenify you
The street-preachers teach you about hope
Hopefully you will start to hope that there’s no hope in this city


The neurosurgeon The highpriest

Hey Mr. Barber!
The man that takes away our crowns
Without war against the king nor with besieging
We surrender them to you
As if they’re man’s biggest burden

Since I was 7 years old
I’ve wondered why I have to pay you for taking away my carbon-keratin crowns
I asked mama where you sell them after the surgeries
“He givest them to the ALMIGHTY as a burnt offering” She said
GOD must be a humble deity -I keep thinking
Humbler than man who worships him.

Thanks to goodness ain’t no him.. I would fire you from being a high priest
Then I found out the innumerable strangers that stream to your little temple
To have your hands touch them like an anointing ceremony
With that Metallic mouse that nibbles away the fur
You transfer the scalp from those strangers to my cranium -like a surgeon

You’re a neurosurgeon
Who swings my head in every angle
To fell these; my dwarf plants that surround me like a halo
Only that you’re a hair surgeon
Who doesn’t need any anesthetic
I fear the pathogens in that transplant
Thanks to the inventor of methylated liquor
I think those little monsters drink it to their deaths

This your wall of reflections
And the luminescence that bounces on them
And these tiny swinging plates
That create a soothing storm on my perspiring skin
I like this Operating room
It saves me from the angry temperature on the streets of Kampala

Life full of life

Life is boring when it’s lived in a way that’s merely superficial. The most beautiful things are unseen, they can’t be  understood, comprehensively but they can be really felt. Talk of valor, faith or love.

At least one time in our life, we should go beyond being superficial or being moved by the norm or being driven merely by public expectations or standards and discover how beautiful it feels to experience the true passion of sacrificing for the common good or helping someone in need. Or putting a smile on someone’s face -a little warmth in their heart.
We should discover ( at least one time) how it feels to go beyond the ordinary & pursue one’s dreams. However much you fail.. True joy comes with seeing that dream come true. Just standing out of the crowd and doing something remarkable.

Well as we may know or deny that the most important and joyful things are brought by love commitment & proper passion for what we do & work for.
We must never forget that the most awful things are a result of being superficial, lukewarm and selfish.

Sleep of the gods

Am a god-literally
Am,rather, devoid of laws
Nor have I any creed
I don’t need.. I don’t need a cult
I don’t need worshippers

Am the god who makes sacrifices
I don’t want sacrifices from no one
I make sacrifices to no one but me
I sit and get amused
By the other gods
gods-like me who want to be idolized
Who badly want and await sacrifices

Am the god of the invincible
Am the god who sits in imagination
Am the god who challenges knowledge
I hunt for wisdom and envies knowledge
I create time to find out & innovate
As the other gods sleep
As they worry about how pretty they look
As they look for who to idolize them

Am the god of success and ingenuity
Am the god who tests failure
I make magic
Because I turn failure into success
I fill every day with ideas
I fill the void of ignorance with crowds of knowledge
The other gods are not crazy or dead
The gods are just asleep
They’re sleeping their way to oblivion

Latent Pearl

I met Affection last evening
As I walked with thoughts in solitude
Under the moonlight
We started to chatter
I asked her if I could take her home
To walk with me every time
To show me the person I could call my true love
I asked her to help me to make them see that I have tried to love
I asked her if she would help me not to have my cardiac muscles torn apart again

I begged her to show me at least a glimpse
Of the person who would love me even after losing my ABCs
These superfluities that everyone flutters me about
To bless me with the rare luck
Of breaking my virginity with one who never break my heart
Of cuddling with that one person with whom we’ll bear creatures in our own image
Toddlers -that would have our eyes

I pleaded with her to open my gates of fortune
So that I can make my paths lead to the arms that will never push me away
To one who would fight, live and die for me
To that one who has the ear to listen to my smallest of afflictions
One that sees the human in me
Who would not excuse themselves from my familiar face over the years

One with whom we’ll argue as we hug
And who’ll not assume that am of angelic ancestry
One that is tired of living the lies of our world
One with whom we’ll preach the gospel of sacrifice and martyrdom for the creed of love

She turned to me and gazed into my eyes
She asked me if that is all I have to ask
I was certain I was asking for alot
If not alot of impossibilities
I affirmed my fear that I am blundering to beg desperately for an abracadabra
She frowned upon hearing that

Ye of little faith!
She yelled
“Do you want to see that person who you are looking for?”
I agreed -relentlessly
She pointed at my chest
She told me to look deep into me
To get my tools and dig up the treasure of love from where we’ve buried it
To remove that pearl that we’re marching over chasing the things that don’t matter

I looked deep within me
I dug deep into my ground and drilled the rocks
Out of me I mined love
I dressed in it like an ornament
I filled it in my room like decor
For its a treasure we shouldn’t bury like a vice

To escavate it out of our debris of sentiments and materialism
To furnish it out from the impurities of our greed for selfish romance
To adorn our hearts with gems that glitter when the rays of love shine onto them
To let go of the dullness of the darkness
The dullness of our despair about love and affectations

She said I was the person I was looking for
And I realized
I was asking for very little
Because I can give far much more than just that
We can love more than just being superficial
We can stop just wishing
And discover that hidden pearl


We only love once
The other times we’re merely doubting or pretending
We love in only one place
The rest are roofless dilapidations
Only one-time
When we don’t reason or think
In the blink of an eye
Or in a heartbeat
In the fifth chamber of the heart
In the third ventricle -I think
That pumps blood outside the body

We only love truly once
In the moment -when we can’t afford to buy a rose
That moment when we can’t say the trilogy
In that brief silence
In that limited space
Where we can’t stretch our arms to hug
Where our eyes don’t open to see

We only care once
Where we don’t buy limos
Nor sip on wine
Where we lay naked and lust-free -like toddlers
On sand beaches surrounding salty waters
When we don’t want explanations being but us
Where no else wants or cares to know

Deeply in our hearts
Where we embrace every time
From the imaginary void where we kiss & romance
Where we can afford to buy what we don’t afford
Where we catch shooting stars for one another
Where we shout in silence our deepest secrets
Where we can do things that this world has given-up

We only love truly once
When we go to bed carrying another person in the most minute of craniums
Where we drift into space to shine with the stars
In the dreams where we do the impossible
Where  peasants cuddle with princesses
Where we don’t stop to hope
Where we don’t give up
Where we don’t flirt with lies
When we love without conditions

The stream of affection

Patience is now my only friend
I just seem to live in one moment in the day
The time I await like salvation
When I stoop over my father’s herd downstream
Just to have a glimpse of Mirembe

Mirembe’s face -terribly shy
Swings  in haste to look at the flowers and shrubs
That flourish all year long by your banks
But I can see her reflection in the water metres away
And as my patience metamorphoses to impatience
I can’t help to stoop again to look at her

I make up my mind
Let me abandon this useless crowd of herbivorous beasts
Let me feign I don’t yearn to here her speak
I’ll make my turn to look for a stray calf
She’s afraid of even the young ones of cows
I’ll seemingly rescue her from her plight
As she rescues me from this madness
This -my insane heart that forces my ears to listen
That bullies my mouth to greet her

Oh you speak!
Mirembe -daughter of the crescent moon
You just rhyme
And the river’s ripples go dump
The mooing bustards vanish into thin air
You silence the mermaids’ noise
And when am about to utter my useless words
Which I fear to get out-like the storms of hell
Darkness dawns into the valley
You must go- don’t hang around the poor man’s sons
Lest, the chief will reprimand you of being illicit
You don’t deserve that rudeness
You are enthroned in innocence and grace

With the river behind me
And your wiggling slender waist dancing in front of me
And your graceful legs walk farther and farther away
And your unforgivingly pretty face faces the dusty paths
I seem to drown like the river starting to flood my environ
And these irresponsible herd beasts highten their noise
I must see them and their unscrupulous young ones back to my father’s compound
I must be cursed to be their steward
But may be someday they’ll be my fortune
I’ll tell father to use them to pay my bride price

I can’t wait for the next day to return
To come back to our river of affection
I only pray to the gods of time-if at they exist
To prolong the evening and shorten the day
I want to meet you at this spring of love
At these waters of luck
This flowing monument of my miserable heart

Amashaarura(The harvest)

Sparrows and doves hover up in the skies
The eagles and kites are rather keen
They beseige our compounds
Like the Spartans surrounding the walls of Troy
They await to pounce
On any foolish
Any unsuspecting young chicken
That stray from their mothers’ fortress
As they peck inconsiderately
On this ground carpet littered with grain and millet

The granneries
These little ostentatious huts lavish
Legions of mice and sister rodents
Fiercely tear them down in invasion
These rats! How Lustful and insatiable!
They are breeding like flies
They Seem to be more proud of our own hard work
My cats have grown plump.
TThey’ve given up the hunt
For these little mischievous monsters due to satiety

My daughters are drawing crowds of men
They are growing faster than weeds
Their aunt  kyomuhendo -my sister- must come quickly!
To crowd their minds
To fill them with the African woman’s counsel
They have been nourished by this generous season
Two years of great harvest

My poor little girls
I must tell my sons to watch them more closely
As they go to the grain-filled fields
Even as they match with their clay pots
To and from the stream in the valley
The vicious boys of the village
Ought to be bothering them already
As they fetch water

Kyaasina, my favorite cow has filled my house with milk
Katoto, my youngest, son has learnt milking the cows
He also helps his mother to make yoghurt and ghee
He’s a promising lad
He now takes these animals to graze alone
He’s always hidden by the herd
He’s not as tall as his brother Magara
Yet he swings his staff fiercely at the wolves
That, he told me yesterday -he chased a vile wolf away from the lambs
We’re happy that’s what matters
It’s our season of Joy

Kabedo tye(There’s a seat)

Kabedo tye!
Under the roof of my nature-air-conditioned hut
This, my hut -thatched with elephant grass
Keeps our long time abode cool and calm
And my millet porridge cold to quench your thirst
Drink to your feel and lets make merry
I’ve much more gourds than we can drink for a year
Take the seat my brother
This is your home
This, my wooden stool is yours now
My eldest son curved it from mvule tree which he he felled in the forest
Before he married the chief’s beautiful daughter

He told how he met her in that clamp of trees
As she  fetched firewood with her sisters
“They are beautiful and graceful,” he said
But Acan’s fairness carried him away
Like a river from where the goddess of love takes her bath

See! how unpredictably strong a young girl can be
My Son Ogwal, the strongest lad in our clan
Unfathomable a wrestler and fiercely hulking
Was baptized in restlessness
Until I  agreed to bless his marriage
Acan is his Achilles heel
She is, he says, his epitome of love

Feel free Ojok, my father’s son
Our paths have not met since the last drought
That treacherous season that dried the grass and reeds
That made us slaughter our cattle
As the granneries went empty of millet grain

“I thought the gods were angry at us
But I think when they cry-we receive rain!”
Ha ha ha
That was the first joke about the gods
You made it in the rainy season that softened the ground
And we made wattle out of the mud and built this very hut

© Mitch