The unsatiables

With bands gold and bold,
The unsatiables,
Both green and old,
Stray unperturbed,
With hearts cold as death,
Forever taking,
Never ever giving.

The unsatiables roam the earth,
Free and uncaring.
They do as they please,
As any annual wind,
Blowing here and there, 
Sometimes hot,
Sometimes cold.

They have been North and South,
In oceans deep,
And ponds shallow,
Whispered breezes they couldn't keep,
Made a clear day weep.
Such huge appetites!

They seek young blood,
The fountain of youth,
Necessary to Iron out the wrinkles of lifelong ties,
Actions that result in bucketful lies,
What a shame,
To be so unsatiable and lame.

I THOUGHT OF LOVE

I thought of love in the wake of pouring showers,
Pounding on my shelter's head like voodoo drummers.
The beats awakened passion, want and forgiveness.
I was weak and soft,
So opened up like the clouds at the moment.
I saw love in God's light,
Patched rags warmer than any fur.

I thought of love bearing a needle and thread,
My heart in hand,
My head buried in sand.
My eyes  were soaked in a hate more than the stitches.
I saw love through man's sight,
An apple and a slimy serpent. 

Thinking of you...

Hey you there!
You who has made me bare,
My mind without a care,
Everyday, every time.
You has me playing out this dare,
A gamble of hearts and kings,
I'm thinking of you....

I let you in easy,
Smooth as nostalgic memories,
I see you clearly,
In my mind's field of view,
Constantly.
You who warms my heart,
Spurs me into a smile,
Bright enough to last a mile.
You who has sparked this fire,
I'm thinking about you...

It's difficult to let you go,
You who has my mind under a spell,
You has become a source of inspiration,
I always think of you.

I wish not to cause a scare,
My thoughts of you are all I can spare,
With you so far away from my charming flair.
Yet,
This fire you sparked,
Has a mighty glare,
Large enough to call you to me.
Would you then come to me oh dear one,
'Coz you are all I can think of?

A heart Vs a purse

Don't offer your heart,
A heart of love, dazzling with spark,
Instead,
Gift me with a purse,
A chic Chanel, dazzling with class.
Heart Vs purse,
Which one deserves a pass?

You carry life's baggage in your heart,
The scars of pain,
The joys of rain,
Which can hardly be told apart!
Why then would I pick a heart,
When the purse is so feather-like and new?

I would rather have the purse than the delicate heart,
Vulnerable to my human persona,
Brittle as glass.
I am such a clumsy klutz!
None worthy of your soft heart!

The purse is easy,
The heart makes me queasy.
The purse makes me look edgy,
The heart makes me feel weary.
The heart can betray,
The purse is always loyal,
Cosy,
A constant solace!

Give me a purse,
Lock the heart away,
In some place deep,
That even the gods cannot retrieve it.
I want not the heart,
Whether in bits,
Or in pieces whole.
Give me your wits,
Your time, your name,
Give me a purse,
But your heart you will not!

THE HEAVY HEART

The heart was heavy as lead,
Stiff as a corpse,
It could hardly bend.
It was distraught,
Sinking deep,
As would a man in sand during drought.
It sank and sank,
Seduced by gravity's pull,
Cheated by life's attractive lure.

This heart had never been to such depths,
A heart that thought itself strong,
Had never imagined it could travel such lengths.
It craved peace,
Even though it would come as a lease.
The depths were chilled,
Slates of ice coating it's hide,
Like it were an armoured shield.

The low temperatures slowed it's rhythm,
The angel of death smelt an incoming collection.
But no!
This heart was a die hard.
It fought with little strength,
It hang on at low depth,
With grim determination.

The heart was smart,
The heart remained grudgingly calm,
Another day was yet to come,
It had picked its card,
Praying that there would be heat,
A flame hot enough to rocket it back afloat,
For the highs and lows of life it realised,
Very much imitated the changing seasons!

Fake Kenyans

I looked around,
Everything so right and sound,
Borrowed and bound,
In a culture we found,
Never ours,
Never sound.

We have failed to see,
We have refused to be,
To be us,
Original in our tasks,
Firm in our believes,
True to what we are,
True to whom we are supposed to be.

Like the ancient Egyptians,
So we should emulate.
For why should a culture,
Dead and past,
Be so intriguing in modern times?
Why is it still mysterious?

The world in which we live bears strong influence,
The world in which we live bears little sense.
What happened to diversification?
Do we need total globalisation?
Most of all, what happened to originality?

I see two kinds of people,
Those who lead,
Those who follow.
Those who invent,
Those who use other's inventions.
Those who create,
Those who copy!

Dear Kenyans,
Can we be original?
Drop the fake English accents?
Create new recipes?
Create new dance moves?
Make our own movies?
Create inventions to solve our own problems?
Stick to our natural hair?
I believe it is time for an identity check.
A wildlife and marathon identity is not gonna cut it!

FAREWELL

I would ask you to stay with me,
But you are you, I am me,
It's easy to see.
In love,
Yet it was never the key,
To the issues that made us leave.

Still, it feels wrong,
To walk away from a place I feel I belong,
To give up a love that was strong,
To fall back into a sad song,
The melody of which takes the beat off my heart.

You said we should stay apart,
I had time to find another love,
Maybe two or three loves,
Get hitched, get my happy ending.
You were just being you,
The selfless man I already knew,
The selfless man I had come to love.
I heard the reason in your words,
I saw the resignation in the effect they had on me,
On us.
Well, guess it's true what they say,
You can't have everything,
Not even something as rare as love.
For it sure is rare,
This kind of love that we share,
That will forever be there.

These words make me believe that it's true,
These words that make me so blue,
It is done,
You and me,
But our love I will keep,
Hopefully as a constant reminder that love can be good.
So here and now I say my goodbye,
May it be the end signifying a brighter start.

Love never enough

Your love was never enough,
It was sometimes hiding,
Most times looking back,
Occasionally too fast in the sack!
Darling, what were you running from most times? The past? The present?
You said you loved me completely,
Was this a bluff?

Your love was never enough,
It was half full,
Almost beautiful.
It swayed like a ship in the middle of a storm,
So fierce I wanted to run,
But then the storm would die,
Your kisses reassuring my trembling heart,
Yet, it wasn't enough.

Did you lie?
Every time you professed your love?
See, I was sure you were the one,
Until our love was over and done,
Then I doubted.

Yes, your love was never enough,
It never did climax,
Still I waited on the edge,
I still wait,
Knowing that the book of love is never wrong.

Your love was never enough,
But is my love enough for the both of us?
Tell me, is it?
Is it going to bring us back as one?
Say yes if you may,
For I wish that things had stayed the same,
You and I,
In love,
Yours shaky,
Mine complete.

The independent woman

The independent woman strives,
To win a race where only man thrives.
She fears not,
She surrenders not!
She is fearless,
As any lioness,
Out on a hunt.

Yes, she is a lioness,
Lonely with massive toughness.
She has learned not to rely no a man's help,
She has mastered to take the pain without a single yelp.
She is the picture of a rock through harsh weathers,
She has the scars,
Still she's not broken.
She stands tall and hurt,
Ready for the next battle.

The independent woman is hard,
She is cold when she has to be,
She is soft to the touch,
Like a cushion of a million feathers,
Few know this,
And when she weeps,
She is as quiet as a grave.

You might pity the independent woman,
She looks forlon most times,
Too ambitious to fit in today's society,
Too cold to have a heart,
Too independent to find a man!
She is the epitome of  sophistication,
With a touch of bitchy and self indignation.

You might admire her,
For her perfect image,
Her unwavering stature,
The wisdom her scars portray,
Her steely eyes that never betray.
She has the swagger of one who cannot be intimated,
Her aura of mystery draws you to her,
She frightens you yet you desire her,
You dream of sucking ice cubes,
You fantasize of being submissive,
Letting the controlling woman have power over you.

The independent woman is a layer of unfathomable depth,
Every layer you uncover triggers curiosity to dig deeper,
For she is a very deep woman,
And just like a witches pot,
You fall under her spell when you look into her.

Love and I

I tried to grasp love,
It was elusive,
I tried to think love,
I was indecisive,
I tried to keep love,
It was too massive,
I tried to make love,
It was very possessive,
I tried to find love,
It was just too passive,
I tried to see love,
I was quite selective,
I tried to touch love,
I was very apprehensive,
I tried to understand love,
It wasn't comprehensive,
I tried to stay in love,
We were not cohesive!
I wore love,
I wasn't attractive,
I tore up love,
I was destructive,
I sang,
Love was not inclusive,
I tried being manipulative,
Love was simply evasive.

TIME

Though old as the Lord has lived,
Time has always breathed,
Something new,
Taught me the concept of a ladder,
One rung at a time,
the best way to avoid any blunder.
Each step grows bolder,
The reason I feel happier,
Every year as I get older.

Interesting,
The mystery of life,
The fact that we are here to learn,
Our reason for being is to learn,
Learn the ways of love,
Learn about the earth and the sun,
Learn about God's grace,
Learn how to make the world a better place.
After that,
Nothing more makes sense,
Than to make your peace and part!

I haven't met a better teacher than time,
I have known no master better served than time,
I am time's slave,
Still, I can be time's master.
But who serves who isn't the matter,
Rather learning has all the importance,
For he who learns not,
Is but a corpse left out to rot,
Useless and forgotten!

What then has time taught me but the act of patience?
See, a sculptor's art is so like life,
The more time he spends carving the stone,
The more shape it takes,
The more pleasant it looks,
Bold, daring, alive,
A perfect piece of art!

I do appreciate the gift of time,
A gift bearing endless possibilities,
Yet, we assume it,
In pursuit of useless elements.
If I were to steal time,
Then I believe my action would be no crime,
Even if I went ahead and sold every millisecond for a million dimes.
Would you not then understand the importance of lost times?

THE ONE I LOST

My heart knows the sharpest sting,
My heart knew the handsomest king.
He was bright,
His love for me right.
I had scored oh so luckily,
The woman forsaken by love previously.
I was happy as any naive child.
Still,
the gods conspired against me,
Soon after,
My king departed.

My heart,
Since has been scattered on every piece of this rug,
My eyes watery from sorrow's stench.
A sorrow so deep my fists I can hardly clench.
I am weak, nothing holds meaning,
Yet, everything I see keeps me grieving.
He bought me those beautiful pearls, We laid on those covers,
I, unable to hold back gratified purrs.
My greatest pain though remains,
For my king is not dead,
For he opted to be just a friend.

Sleep is but a distant mate,
Always late,
And in bits.
I close my eyes and all I see is what we had,
Memories compressed into one dreadful film.
I worry for my sanity,
My heart,
I wish I could rewind,
To the moments when bliss lasted,
To a time when I was always sated.

He is the one I lost,
The one I could have held on at any cost,
I fear I will find no other,
To stitch my countless cuts,
To fulfil my only wants:
Delight and loyalty.
So I will forever carry this grief,
And remain lost,
Lost like a mad man's sense!