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!