This Christmas

It's a perfect period to pray,
A blessed day.
It's a time to give thank,
Not necessarily with the aid of a bank.
It's the right time to share,
The little, the more,
With care.

It's no time to be forlon,
Or depressed.
It's no time to regret
Or wish.

Chist's birth,
Brings lots of mirth.
The magic, the mystery,
Gives hope and light,
To those in the dark.

Let Him in,
He will not let you cave,
For He is here to save.

Allow Him to lead,
Lead you into the new year,
A clean and safe person,
Happy and saved.

Merry Christmas!

GBV

http://politicsandwomeninkenya.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/exploring-gender-based-violence-the-causes-and-solutions/

SONG OF MY LIFE

Slow is the beat,
Low drum sounds,
Ryhme to rhythm,
The river I float,
Flowing with the current,
Upstream,
Downstream,
I am detached,
Forlorn,
Like an astronaut in space,
Yeah,
I need this space,
I gotta stick to this space,
For it brings me grace,
Calm.
I need a beat,
Give me a beat,
I need not that seat,
I'll stand on my two feet,
Play,
the keys,
Sway,
My hips.
To the slow music that is my life,
Wallow in the sadness that grips my heart,
It's my song,
Sad or not,
Mine is this song,
I belong,
I belong in this sad song,
I love this song,
Though I cry,
I love it,
Since it is mine.
A solo,
Piano,
Cool as a morning breeze,
Wet like greasy beef,
Fine as a vintage piece,
Piece of painting,
Of a pretty woman,
Abandoned by love.
This is the song of my life,
Ballet flats donning my feet,
A tango of one,
A solo.
Look,
Windows covered in sleet,
The weather reflects the mood in my heart.
Nothing is wrong about grey,
Black or dull clouds above,
There's beauty in darkness,
There's beauty in loneliness.
My sad song is beautiful,
My solo is graceful,
I love this song!
A song of my life.

Easy Child

Sweet child,
Why do you let the sadness pile in your young eyes?
Why do you cast down your face,
So low that life hardly sees you?
Why do you worry so much that you don't celebrate the good today?
Why do you let negativity wash the hope away?
Why do you resist the change that will make you grow?
Where is the glow?
Why does the sun shine yet you remain cold?
How long will you sit back and feel sorry for yourself?
Will you let your dreams mold?
Will you always hold,
Grudges, bitterness and hate?
Can you let all the emotion flow?
Cry child!
Cry!
None will laugh.
For we all have been there,
Still,
We moved on.
Be kind to your heart child!
It is fragile,
It can crumble.
Be generous to your skin,
It can wrinkle,
It can wear.
Don't frown,
Don't look down!
Learn to accept,
The pleasures and sorrows of life,
The angels and devils in men.
Create a filter,
That takes the good,
Letting it in for a better tomorrow.
That separates the evil,
The anchor that will leave you stuck forever.
Child,
You were meant to be great.
Even in times of weakness,
You remain a born winner!

LOVE WAS

Love was when you came,
Agile n gracious as any wild game,
Seeking to agressively tame,
This restless obstinate dame,
Until she was no longer the same.

Love was when you looked into my eyes,
Steady with undeterred grace,
Possessed me with each gaze,
Overwhelming me like I were in a maze.

Love was your tender kiss,
On my brow ironing the crease,
The kisses did not cease,
Making me delirious with ease.

Love was the time you spared,
To court me until I bared,
My heart and body,
For I was certain that you cared.

Love was when you let me in,
Honest and clean,
So deep it felt like a sin,
So open I realised I would never win,
For your love was ever keen.

Love was your endless warmth,
The heat that could surely sooth,
Sores from the past.
The warmth that cast,
Bright flames that lit our path.

Love was when you stayed,
In all seasons that favoured and pained.

Love was the ruby ring,
You slid on my finger and vowed,
To be one person with me,
A union deserving a bow.

Love was when sowed,
The seed of life in my empty soul,
Making me whole,
Making me new.

Love ended when you stopped being a mate,
When you began coming home late,
And seething vehemently with hate,
Ever cancelling every single date,
Closing your heart with a high gate,
Who the hell is Kate?

Freedom of dress

The fight had been won,
Almost,
The balance just about leveled,
Miniature brains slightly evolved,
The acceptance of change.
Had we been cheated?
Or simply tolerated?
Was the smile in light,
A mockery to our delight?
For the peak slid from our reach,
When they took her dignity on the street!

The disgust of it!
A crime deserving of a pit,
Six feet under.
For who dares display someone's nudity,
Publicy,
Without any remorse?
Sexual harassment,
In the pretense of misguided justice. Someone tell me,
Who are the self appointed fashion police?
Who says what is decent and what isn't?

Dress is a personal choice,
It portrays personal taste,
Individuality.

Dress is creativity,
It should be embraced,
Not limited,
To a definition of long, short, tight, exposing.......

People of primitive minds,
Get your act together,
Let women be!

Don't you see?
These African values you talk about,
Do not apply to the dress we wear,
Brought in a ship from a world a far.
Did they say if you are in Rome do as the Romans do?
If you wear a white man's cloth,
Dress as he would!

#MydressMychoice

Chasing the rainbow

A girl has got to chase,
A lovely rainbow straying by,
With dazzling shades that spurs her into song,
Warm colours that make her flush,
Cool hues that make her sigh,
Of fantasies hot as the burning sun.

Yes,
She has to chase,
That rainbow that's so rare,
She cannot shy,
She has to pry,
Unravel its secret,
Why does it look so good?
Why does it make her restless?

However far it seems,
She has to reach harder,
Build a ladder if she may,
Grow wings if she can.
For the rainbow cannot fade away,
As she stands undecided at bay.

A rainbow can't be molded from clay,
It's a gift from the heavens,
To be grabbed without delay,
To give calm to warm desires,
To calm the soul's mounting storms.

If she does catch that rainbow,
Seize its heart with a grip unknown,
Then she should be proud,
For many saw but walked,
Others tried but lost,
Yet she chased and found,
The greatest treasure that doesn't cost a pound.

November

The nimbus hangs low,
Almost taking the form of a dhow,
Floating meters above,
Awaiting to gush water,
On dwellers below.

The wind's already blowing cold,
I can feel it in my deepest bone.
Blood turns white,
I can hardly feel my feet.
My head,
Once bold,
Now bowed.

From the thickest forests,
The wind blows,
Unsettling the heavy clouds,
Causing them to drop chilling loads,
Ice cold water,
That duly blinds,
My eyes,
and gives the soul longing.

Shivering,
My clothes sodden,
Fabric clang to flesh,
My feet sinking under wet earth,
Slowing my pace,
But with the winds I cannot race,
Not with the falling rains either.
So I take my fate,
and indulge in the sate.

As winds pass,
So do the days,
Life turns green,
Rivers roar with rage.
The rush persists,
The mud annoys.
Beautiful irksome times.

Its November.

On crappy days

On days such as this,
I wish for the whistling breeze,
To carry the dullness away,
So that I can sway in life's light,
With peace,
Unbound delight.

When the pain is so great,
A sharp knife draws the soul,
A raging fire, rounds of bullets.
I thirst for blood,
I wanna be cool,
White as chalk.

The crow landed on my soul,
Scaring the calm I no longer know.
Bile drowns me into choking bouts,
I want it to stop not,
Until I'm finally out.

The end is the sight for my sore eyes,
I see a different light,
That leads to a different way.

I thirst for blood,
The draining of the body,
Of life's demise,
The fatigue that got me rusted.

Being old

In advanced years,
When few are the peers,
When dry are the tears,
I feel the fatigue,
I loath the emptiness,
For lack of a purpose.

Solitude gnaws on my soul,
Life has turned foul,
For when youth exits the window,
None can crave for tomorrow.

So I sit and watch,
Life's film rolling by,
Childhood memories unfolding shy,
Mid life memories,
Keeping me smiling,
Sometimes frowning.
Oh how I miss those days,
Yet I feel the satisfaction,
Of being here today.

I tend my garden,
Roses, hibiscus and carnations,
So like my grandchildren,
Young and beautiful,
A reason to be hopeful,
Grateful,
Cheerful,
So that when life's last sleep calls,
I will be caught unawares.

Old age knows death,
Old age regards life,
Short,
Ending as fast as it started.
Still,
Old age accepts death,
A last result,
A price worthless in wealth.

When cold is a day,
Chilling my wrinkled body,
I close my eyes and pray,
Wondering if the cold,
Frosty and glassy,
Will take me to the grave.
The naivety of it!

Freaky weekend

Here is to the weekend that was,
The indulgence I took a little too far,
Immersed in the gift of youth,
The feel good moment,
That turned me uncouth.

Here is to the booze that never let me down,
Chilled and crispy,
Making me burn,
Getting me dumb.
The feeling,
The feeling that made me act like a clown.

Here is to the good people that closed their eyes,
Resisted calling the cop,
When I could no longer stay in my top

Here is to the man that did the paying,
While I did all the pinting.
May the good Lord give him more,
So that we can do this more often!

Here is to the dj that made me wanna wiggle,
The beat to which a clown could jiggle.
The tempo,
That made me throw my hands in the air,
Without a thread of care.

Here is to the bartender that mopped,
While I gagged and threw up,
Missing the ice bucket.

Here is to the taxi driver that made sure I got home,
When all I did was mourn,
From the lack of feeling from my legs.

Cheers!

The high life

The pit of death lies ahead,
For those who let it get to their head,
And as for me,
Once pretty, now a nightmare,
I am as good as dead.

I look back in the day,
When I knew sobriety,
When I was merry, gay
Now,
Those days have faded away,
I live by shots,
Of crack and beer.
How did I ever get here?

I live in fear,
Thinking that my end is near,
I have failed to quit,
The price I pay is dear.
But hell,
I would rather die,
Than feel the pain,
I often endure.

As I reduce to nothing,
Someone has become something,
Because of me,
The girl who is unstable,
Bloodshot eyes on bad days,
Goofy grins and endless giggles on good days.

Lord,
How I hate him,
Hate him for the disease he is,
Yet I need him,
I need him since I refused to quit.
I need him for the balm he bears for my sores.
I need him for being a constant shadow, a source,
Of party thrills, and freaky nights.
He never left,
When everyone else did.
But wait!
Did I not push them away?
I dumped the friend,
For the greedy enemy.
Why won't anyone stop him?
He stole my life to build his,
He rode the mare,
While I clang to the tail.

I am soiled, I know,
Nobody can save me, I accept.
But what of the rest?
Those who are rookies to the test.
Don't they deserve to be saved?
Do they not have the right to a life?
A clean life,
Away from poisonous entrepreneurs.

Where is society?
Clergymen and family.
Who are the allies?
Drug lords or rehab?
The ratio of which outweighs the other.
I want to know people.
I demand for an answer.
For the morgue crowds with people like me,
People who convulsed to their death, People,
Young and old,
People who were sold,
To the high that is the devil.
While y'all thought it only happens in Mexico!

When you see me,
I am the reflection of death.
When you look into my eyes,
You will understand the length,
Of my hatred for him.
When you read this poem in depth,
You will learn of a path,
A path you would rather avoid.

Opinions

Everywhere I look,
There is an opinion on book,
There's an opinion on air,
On blogs, newspapers, talk shows
It is never rare.
There's an opinion about this and that,
The myriad of course doesn't last,
For they are just opinions,
Lacking of solutions,
and nobody cares.
These opinions,
Some irksome,
Others worrisome,
At the ruthlessness they voice,
So misguided, very dizzying,
The silliness will surely ensue.

If you felt the First Lady's dress wasn't right,
Apply as her fashion advisor,
If you feel mukimo is a lazy bad food,
Come up with a better recipe,
If you feel Lilian Muli desperately needs a new look,
Advice her.
Stop writing,
Avoid gossiping,
About it!
For they are just opinions,
Right or wrong,
Nobody cares.
Opinions are noise,
Unless there is a strategic process of changing what you don't like,
A guided appropriate process of appreciating what you do like.
Opinions are worthless,
Sometimes misused to gain fame,
Give life to the unpopular name.
Opinions are a proof of a conscious population,
but when talking is all that's done,
Creativity has sadly been assumed.
Opinions are careless,
There's a reason they are better kept to oneself.

So next time you have an opinion,
Take to the streets, write to the governor, go to court.
Otherwise your opinion will be just that,
Useless ,
Invisible like the passing wind.

Battle of the sexes

Never was ambition made for a woman,
She was made to spawn,
and hardly thought to mourn.
Never
I say never,
Was a woman meant to lead,
She was to follow,
Submissively to the morrow.
She was not made to provide,
But to be given,
She was not made to ask,
But to do.
Don't you see?
She was made second,
She has always through time,
come second.

Never was a woman expected to unmask,
Fight to be first,
Fight to be heard.
Never was she taken to exude boldness,
Or the testosterone-driven toughness.
Yet she was part of man,
She is part of him,
She is like man,
Brains and guts,
Just prettier,
and much more merrier.

Therefore,
I detest the stereotype,
The superiority,
That man has established over woman.
The disgust at which society holds women of ambition,
Those who possess the gifts believed to be manly.
Never,
Never did man see this coming,
For when did the dog bark orders at its master?
But we ain't no poodle or German Shepherds,
Though we have been so many times treated as such.

Woman was created as a companion,
Not an idiot,
She was given the greatest ability,
That of procreation.
Never was she made to be property,
To be purchased and leased,
Never to be missed.
She was never made to be locked in a safe,
Only to be used in times of desperation.
Never guys,
Was she supposed to cover up the vivacious curves,
That the Lord so graciously gave to her.

Never,
Has the world seen a woman,
Be more of a man,
Than a million men,
As has been seen in this century.
She can chair board meetings, raise kids, cook, be a wife and be a friend.
However, let it not be said,
That woman intends to end,
the male sex.
No!
The chains of slavery,
Are all we intend to break.
Prove that what man can do, she can do it too,
Sometimes even better!

On this Mashujaa Day

Who is your hero?
Who is that heroine?
The citizens everyone knows,
A citizen only you know
Blame it on the selective media,
The often aggressive media-a two-sided mirror!
Pooh!
Who be your hero?
Are you the heroine?
That beat the deadly cancer.
That raised a gentleman with scraps and crumbs.
The hero who nurtured that talent,
The skill that lay stunted.
Do you know him?
Do you oh friends,
Know the family that stands besides,
Newborns with strange disorders?
Do you know
The labour unions out on the streets,
Fighting for decent pay slips?
Have you caught wind,
Of midwives brave and kind,
Changing infant mortality statistics?
Have you heard of a heroine,
Running the campaign: beyondzero?
Do you care for heroes,
That write about heroes,
Forsaken and beleft?
That write about the wrongs in society,
Fathers who molest their daughters,
Bitter women who abuse helpless men?
Hey,
I am talking to you,
You who censures and heckles,
Men and women who stand forlon,
Right in their insight,
Lonesome,
Yet they don't wiggle!
You who runs scared,
In the light of challenging times.
You who has shamelessly refused,
To be a hero,
To be different.

Who is your hero?
Have you lauded that hero,
Or do you just lie on your pillow,
Thankless,
forgetting you are who you are,
Because someone stood for you,
Walked beside you,
Prayed for you,
Pushed you,
To the greatness you reside in today?
Do you not realise,
The world is a better place because of heroes,
The courageous people who refuse to be typical,
Common as any weed in the garden, Easily frightened like street mongrels,
That scramble for the web they haven't spanned?

What stops you from being the hero she needs?
What holds you from crowning the hero that is?
The hero that was?

The fire in me

Behold!
The beginning of an ascent,
The peak of which stares at my face.
I have a fire growing in me
A fire hotter than hell, dancing like possessed demons.
Fire, oh eternal fire,
I dare you to burn me,
I ask that you bless me.
Scorch my face with all your flames.
Don't be shy, make haste.

I have a fire crowning my head,
I am the chosen one, I come to mend.
The fire,
The fire in me,
Gold and red,
Like a day on end.
It is the fire I breathe,
The diesel to my greased wheels.
That fire,
Enormous and high,
Will surely and continously sire,
Change that's terribly dire.
The purpose for existence.
It's the fire in me,
We are joined by fate,
The heat that thaws pessimism,
Ice blocks on my ascent path.
It's the fire of a comet,
Cutting through the ionosphere,
Like a sharp red blade through butter.
See this fire,
Clear and bold?
It will take me to the peak,
The peak staring at my face.
It's the fire I love, the fire I deserve,
It has roasted my limbs,
My lingerie with sewed in lace.
I am the fire,
The fire is me.
Like lovers we embrace in a dance, almost surreal.
This fire,
The fire you see,
Is consciously real,
It will pay the bill.
Fire, fire in me,
Burn me, take me til I reel!

I CAME

I came like the lady I am,
First, with admirable calm.
Yes I came,
And you the witness,
Can swear on a pew.
I came as morning dew,
Fresh droplets,
Cool and gay
Nay
Crisp and awesome!
Although you stand at bay
Oh I came,
I undoubtedly did,
With a standing ovation,
Claps strong as falling missiles,
An impact spread for miles.
I came.
I,
From the 'unjiru' clan came
The dampening of damned stereotypes!
I came,
Again and again like the good girl I am,
I came unbidden,
Made a mountain from the pebbles you put on my lap.
I came courageously,
While my skin glistened.
However, the dripping sap,
Stole my thirst.
Brothers and sisters I came,
But for the heavy heart I left behind.
I needed not that heart,
The name or date.
I came by myself,
Neither shy nor late.
I snoozed at midnight cuddled in my warmth,
Gratified for proving my worth,
To me, to the side lined witness.
I,
with soft soles and heavy hips came,
I dragged my feet not,
I never got sore.
My tango was steady and spirited
I had a purpose,
and I came.
Because nothing mattered more,
But for my coming.
I came, I came, I came
Yes I came,
To the stars, To the moons,
I came
And I ain't bragging!

A RACIST WORLD

I came across a different divide,
The kind that discriminates by taking side,
Of tone and shade across the globe,
The pigment that puts you on a probe

The divide I learned,
Is similar to the original sin at birth.
Its roots run far beyond the crust,
The effects of which bring no mirth.
We point fingers yet we stand accused,
For the jitters we chide at mixed race children,
For the moments we invest in lightening creams.
Alas! Ever heard of self-racism?
The soul that eats at itself!
Haven't we inaptly abused,
Those who put us in chains?
Are we not guilty of self loathing?
It is a shame I say,
An absolute disgust!

I frown at this madness,
The shallowness of all human kind!
I speak against the racism among black people,
the racism against oneself.
I detest the black-white segmentation,
An ordeal so old it should be extinct.

We have proven stuck and shrunk,
In our abilities to decide,
In our capacities to recline,
From inhumane actions and thoughts.
It is a time to let go,
To swallow the bile,
To halt the constant wile,
That racism is not rife,
Yet it so often takes a life!

Sovereignty of the people

Never has a leader,
Appointed or elected,
Exhibited such exquisite selflessness,
Displayed divine humility,
Demonstrated undisputable credibility,
Paraded distinctive power,
As did our dashing president,
On that breath holding hour.

"To protect the sovereignty of the Kenyan Republic, " he said,
Was the respect the Kenyan people were paid.
He literally glamorised what perhaps is a rocky situation,
However,
Hasn't every cloud got a silver lining?

Now,
the tables have unprecedentedly turned,
The blind haters have duly burned!
He bowed like the servant he is,
We take off our hats for his great act,
For what is power but a give and give situation?

What then is this sovereignty,
Popularised in a speech momentarily?
Is it talked of so rarely,
That we struggle so desperately,
To comprehend?
I say the leaders have failed,
To assume the respect they owe to those they were elected by.

Hence,
That was the lesson I drew,
From what the experts featured in the news,
Greatly assumed.
For at a very recent time,
History was jotted down,
When the teacher made publicly known,
That objectivity supersedes subjectivity,
That the profoundness of leadership lies in omitting individualism
And that it is therefore a concept leaders should often mind!

The monstrous divide

The divide across a nation,
should be considered with delicate caution,
For a bottom heavy economy,
Pulls down the massively wealthy,
Consequently cripples a brainy population,
Slows down the pace of what should be an energetic development,
It is a venomous disease I say!
An epidemic in full throttle motion.

We, the people infected with dependency on a fertile soil,
Fail to see the opportunity the North could provide.
Why are we so shortsighted in our thinking capacities,
That we spoil,
The gold mine sitting on a sandy bed
Yet, we can push investment in that direction?

We see and assume,
Those who live in sacks and shacks,
Afraid to unearth the dirt that smears their lives,
For its heavy and soaked with stink
But to bridge that divide,
We have to amass ourselves in that same dirt,
and remove the deprived from the gigantic death sink.

To climb the ladder drafted in the Vision 2030,
The monster has to be gunned down before it mutates to uncontrollable rates.
The three pillars got to be explored exhaustively,
Pull out the weed through an affirmative action.

For have we not amongst us fellows who know not how to read?
Don't we know of people who have no exposure to neither information nor urbanisation?
Do we not see victims of traditional slavery everyday living slow uneventful lives?
The truth is clear
We don't realise the vastness of this divide
Until we open our minds.

Like we bring the harvest of a crop together,
So have we to do with this population
Balance that scale,
Trim the lead-like tail,
Only then I say,
Can we kill the enemy,
And traverse to the greener side!

AWOL

How dare you make your leave without a word
So abrupt that I had to hear it from passersby?
I'm I not your closest friend,
That you have to shame me so distatefully?
Tell me the reason for your rashness,
For I am but lost for words.

Aren't you an old fool,
So feeble and selfish!
Do I not have a say?
Should I have to pay
For your reckless actions?
Pooh!
Excuse my candor,
But you deserve a spanking!

I look like a fool,
Dialling you for a share of booze,
Only to recall,
That you no longer are.
Oh! If only you had passed the word,
Face to face
Like the man you are,
I wouldn't have to look like a clown.

Who dares walk away from the indulgence of svelte damsels,
Liver eroding liquor but you?
I hardly knew you suffer from amnesia,
For I remember you loved a good time.

I feel sorry for you,
Sympathise with me
You are but a mime
Lifeless, chalk
I am but a zombie
Pinting, drowning
Somebody shoot me!

You play mind blowing pranks friend, But this has got me at a losing end,
I have caved at your slyness,
You have broken me in your demise.
Tears know no man
I detest you for what I have become

Forgive me for being shallow,
You had the creativity I lacked,
The words you wanna hear I can't help but swallow,
Oh what a shame!
But I know you cannot blame.

Earth's daughter

When I was a child,
Curious in my ways,
I climbed trees,
Let the wind sing in my hair,
I giggled silly,
I was wild, unafraid
Earth's daughter.

I was wary not,
Clueless to how others perceived me,
I walked as I liked,
Skipping on my tiny feet,
Swinging imaginary hips,
I was carefree, kamikaze
Earth's daughter.

Now,
Repressed by responsibilities,
Governed by boundaries,
No longer regarded with innocence,
I replace wildness with wariness,
I polish the very impression that defines me
The earth is a harsh judge
And I am but my mother's daughter.

October

In my chamber I lay,
Lazily tucked between purple floral sheets,
Marsha sits soundless by my side,
Always the faithful stuffed dog.
She is donned,
In her favourite knit green sweater.
Through the window,
The rain is falling
The glass misting,
Inside,
I am dreaming of a poem

Changing times

I see not the reason why,
Y'all so bitter and cry weary,
While the sun is so bright and caring,
When the realm of change has landed oh so dearly.
All you thomases,
Visually impaired by your stunted pessimist minds
The wind blowing against the fairy's wagon
I admonish you,
May hell's wrath drown you to nothingness!

We are at war,
Minus the machetes and smoking canons,
We fight by mind,
The public opinion determines an overall victory
Individual perception dictates one's survival.
There is a revolution,
And the losers are naive of their shackled sight.

We were born to thrive,
Regardless of the hardships we survive
Wrong or right,
We march towards the throne.
For what have we not to stop our marching song
But for the yapping tongues never wary of their wailing and whining?
I say we slash those tongues and stash their heads with a 6th sense!
Then we can move forward to a fabulous conquest

The strategy we work on step by step,
Is void of the politics that maims a prosperous economy,
We, the people with great open minds,
Don't give a damn to the politicising of the development that is deprived of society.

We care not for the pesa mashinani and okoa Kenya,
Or the disease eating away at our pathetic example of leaders,
The marching parade is for the change oriented,
We play our role rightfully,
Sing the song unitedly.
Regardless of the usual shenanigans,
We shall get there.

The symbolism that is the Kwale man,
Reflects the common mwanainchi's feelings.
The tide has shifted people,
And dare you not miss it!

House of worship?

Strong in its architecture,
Attractive in its stature was the evidence of a colonised statedom.
And as thousands of the faithful crammed the entrance,
I was left but amused at the desire to get divine grace,
Some more genuine than others.

I thought back in history,
Of days when nature was sacred
The creator was believed to reside in the forests and mountains,
And they were right in believing this,
For what inspires the soul more than the tranquillity of birds singing?
The photographic view of an amazing landscape?
The scent of indigenous trees moving to the wind's rhythm?

The slavery that comes with defying roots,
The ghost that haunts our souls.
For what is a house of God but a distraction from the outside life?
Think of the way bodies are packed close into personal space,
Women who parade both boob and butt cleavage shamelessly as if it were a race
Noisy kids throwing tantrums and playing unable to keep up with the grown ups pace
And when the preacher talks of putting words into action,
He is talking to an already sunken ship!

This is the character of the places of worship,
A buzz of unnecessary activities,
From fashion parades to markets,
Concert halls to political battle fields
The simple concept of worshipping has been thrown out of the window.

I remember the few times I drew pleasure from prayer
I was in a room with nothing but my soul to bare,
It was quiet,
The tranquil which lifted me closer to the heavens,
I felt Him in me
I prayed, I thought
At that moment,
life was more attractive
I knew peace.

With the dynamism the houses of worship have adapted,
So does the reason for attendance vary,
Some look for entertainment, others for partners
A few are just following routine.
However,
If you crave for something deeper,
The grace that comes from above,
You should consider visiting a 'mugumo' tree!

The forbidden act

The beauty that is your seed,
Sacred it is
As is the words of the creed
That you sing and profess.
It is innocent of life's sin,
Of adult activity,
Taboo of any a kin.

To cross that bridge,
Think of certain desires,
Is punishable by noose and stones,
It should be punishable by the laws of old.
For who dare stain the innocence that is a child,
Kill the life in them so mercilessly?
Who swears by their ancestors yet breaches the trust that is meant to protect?

It is heartbreaking,
To see a young flower flutter in its growth,
For the mind never forgets,
The betrayal follows like a shadow to the grave.

Has the world,
Dynamic in its character,
Reached a point that the forces of nature have to be defied?
A mongrel distinguishes not
Mother from daughter,
Sister or aunt
It goes about satiating its pleasures
With not a care in the world!

Life's a cycle,
There's nothing new under the sun,
And like the fate of cities of a decade once upon a time,
Might be the fate of a decade of this day and time!

Beautifully flawed

The blemish in me,
Is the beauty I see,
Deep as the sea,
For the brave to seek.
Like the rain some feel,
Like the wetness that others suffer
Such is the path it equals.
I choose to be free,
Of tainted thoughts,
The negative that has slain many a soul.

What is beautiful?
What is ugly?
The boundary of which has caused wars
Yet it's simple,
The answer to the truth.
The mind sees what it chooses to
But for one to define it
Is a crime against humanity.

Mirror mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of them all?
I am the fairest of all,
The mirror tells no lie.
For the blemish in me
Is as beautiful as the stars!

I may come off as proud,
But truth be told,
We are as beautiful as we choose to be!
It's all a matter of mind perception.
Has the farmer not seen beyond the stink from a cow's dung and made energy?
How many ugly and dangerous animals pass for gourmet delicacies in restaurant buffets?

I'm beautifully flawed,
Yes I am.
From head to toe,
I'm flawed with beauty.
I care not what he sees,
For I see it all.
I need not his sight,
My mirror shows it all!

Mystery wind

It's silly really,
Trying to grasp your scope
A maze in which you have entangled yourself.
The terrors that you bring forth,
Every now and then.
I fail to understand your business,
In a world where each soul seeks the light
Where peasants and elites toil alike, for just a bit of delight.
Where then do you fit in mystery wind?
Coz I'm on the edge of sanity here.

I heard you were around and about,
Claiming blood while a beautiful woman scrubbed her delicate skin,
and while another put her fashionable attire up to catch the wind
I was crestfallen that you stooped so low
What happened to every bit of patience earth thought you possessed?
That you have to take a woman in such an unlady-like manner?

You have definitely caught up with the trends, my friend
The impatience technology brings,
is now your logo
For life has metamorphosed into an agility greater than that of a cheetah, and you don't fall behind, do you?
Though painfully disgusting,
you are impressive.
However, you should note that a little patience never killed anyone!

You pass in the air quietly,
By night and day,
You hardly discriminate.
You are the enemy I hate
For like The Everest is the height of your lovers,
Yet, I choose to remain your friend
Though I will keep you at arms length,
For I don't know how to be friends with you
I am at loss on how to hate you

Dear mystery wind,
When you decide to make known your innermost details,
Let it be soon before another age is conceived
When the time comes for you to call on us,
Confirm that we are as old as the hills
For we live in this planet only once
#YOLO

I was being me

I wanted not to be at the top,
I was just being me.
I asked not for fame and monies,
They came to me, while I lived my purpose.
I chose not this life,
I found myself in it, with a dream in my hands.

I was sculptured not to believe in success,
They told me the power was in me,
Thus in myself I believed.
I blossomed in shades brighter than any well tendered garden,
I had plenty even when there was less
I beckoned all the energies,
Past and present,
I had it all mastered,
For self development,
For a belief I would lay my own life

I believed in Him,
And He in me,
He had poured in me great goods,
I honoured Him
He blessed me
I only did His will
And to see the world praise me like a god is distateful

I don't desire to be celebrated,
I loathe the screams, the shouts,
Oh! How this overwhelms my poor soul
Can't you see people?
I was being me
Away with all the fuss!

I know not love. ....

I know not love,
Love knows not me,
Her maiden,
Desperate and meek.
What is it that I seek?
That love has chosen to forsake her maiden like this?

I'm I too empty to love,
Shaken dry by the tremors of life?
I'm I too subtle,
That the wind in which you ride hardly touches me?

I know not love,
I care not for love.
My heart has grown weary,
Of needs you choose to ignore
My heart has grown cold,
So remember to bring a burning torch,
The day you finally find me
For an icy heart sure can be difficult to thaw

Grief of a torn soul

It was then that I knew me,
Only two clocks ago,
when I was true and free,
It was then that I thought,
Of seeds and silk,
The moulding of a pot,
I was selfless again.

He was my path, can't you see?
And now that we no longer stand,
I sit on my dreams,
Looking at what could have been,
Regretting what already was,
He left with everything I had become,
Now, holding the empty shell of my past,
I see nothing but night,
I see a cliff ahead,
where I will fall to my death.