Tag Archives: blog

Solitude

This crowd suffocates me
My identity sun-dried and preserved

Can’t wait to revel in solitude
For I need serious conversations with myself
A duel with my demons
And reprimands from my guardian angel
She’s been off duty too long

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pages in history

History is present
Troubling us with repeats of yesterday’s mayhem
Blood didn’t dry
And ground wasn’t barren
So seeds of hate sprouted
Watered by sycophancy and greed
What’s right isn’t profitable
What’s profitable isn’t right
Like freedom fighters who lost all while freeing the nation
We have been looted by those we paid to protect our wealth
And they’ve killed us for defending whats ours
Big cars they drive
Fuelled by our thin wallets
And soon they’ll back to shed more blood
For the gods they worship
The nation isn’t ours
We dont belong
We’re pawns on a chessboard
No life of our own
But just items of trade
And bargaining chip for political supremacy
So slavery isn’t dead
Just a page in history
Embeded on the present

Zion Awaits your arrival

Dearest move with me
Don’t let my long strides
Leave you behind
Walk much faster dear
This place isn’t home
It has vampires and vermin
Baying for your blood
The vampires slither
Smoothly in darkness
Their fangs out
Walk dear, walk on

The rain will be here
Look at the sky
The dark clouds hang
Ready to spew on us
Everything is against us
No friends
No family
Nature hurls its storms at us
Just cling dear
Cling onto my scarf dear
It throttles me but hang on
It’s a small price I pay

Now move, your feet blistered
Ankles failing
Don’t give in
We’ll heal in our safe haven
Your mouth trembles
Don’t speak
Just move
For Zion isn’t for the weak
Let’s get to Zion
Let’s get to Zion
For glory awaits you there

For a Fallen Twin Brother

Hello, how are you? I’m curious. It’s not that I’m not concerned, but you see if you brought a sexually starved bachelor into a room full of naked women and dared to gauge the rise in testosterone and gastrin hormones, wouldn’t the highest be obvious? So is my curiosity. As you know, none of the people I hold dear that had departed ever came back to tell me how the land yonder is. These are miracles reserved for people of Lazarus’s privileges, you failed to qualify too but I would have loved to get a two way communication between us , brother what channel do we use, Prayer? No. If I prayed in conversation with a dead brother I might be termed a devil worshiper; there’s a notion that people who die turn to ghost and devils, the latter is more common. The penalty for conversing with a devil, my pastor says, is eternal fires of hell.
Irrespective, I’ll tell you a few things about this world you left unduly. Here nothing is easy, there are metrics that we found already set, not that the bars they set for us were too high that we couldn’t meet but it just makes no sense to force Lionel Messi to hit the bull’s eye when the game of darts doesn’t involve the use of feet. Particularly, it hasn’t been cool with me, I have been branded names. Brother, we would have shared these names if you were here, believe me there’s nothing as weighty as a demeaning brand. It blankets your self-esteem and floors your confidence and before you know it you’ll remain an indoor mouse that complains of all he lacks but is too ashamed to step out of the door and look for all he needs. Brother, I’m ashamed to say that I have been this mouse, everything about my existence has a dark side. I knew this because everything good I did always had a diversion.
When every conversation about you has a ‘but’ as a conjunction you’ll know that your present has joined forces with your dark history to rub your trace from the map of human existence. After all, I believe it was omission of ‘t’ in butt that formed ‘but’, nothing good comes from ‘butts’. Sometimes I wish that you were here, other times I’m glad that you left before they branded you a misfit. I have all names that I wear daily, profanities held on placards and iniquities flawlessly inscribed on my forehead. Even as I write, I have to beg my hands to continue typing, I no longer want to please them. But brother who doesn’t need approval? Especially after being spat out like spoilt milk? I have lived in denial, I have lied to myself that I don’t need anyone’s approval but the truth is there are days when I just need someone to tell me that I’m on the right track. When no one does, I fail to know my destination.
Brother, I would like to tell you so much, about technology, there’s whatsup, facebook, twitter, IG among others but this short letter isn’t really about me and my space; it’s about you! Why did you leave so quickly?
Do you know how painful it is to live as two different beings in one lifetime?
I’d love to say I hate you, but hate arrived late when the apartments of my heart were already in rubbles, all that’s left is tiny cage holding my love for you hostage. This love has been held here for so long I need to check its expiry date. How irrational of you to depart and leave a part of you? Do you know we shared same breasts? Or did I suckle too much that you died of starvation? Tell me twin bro, I can’t find the right answer, my conscience is bugging me. Did I take all the love our mother had to offer, so much that you saw no point in living in a world devoid of love? For your consolation, mom died few years after you left, she didn’t even raise me. Does that make us even?
Brother, I need you. I have stood before the mirror so many times just tracing a hint of your face but nothing forms that could depict the beautiful image my heart holds of you. Besides I see you in abstracts, nothing physical, whenever I think of you I see love, kindness, creativity and tenacity. The latter is more boldly engraved than the rest, I guess this is why I believe that you were the executor because you can hold on to the wheels even when your hands they grind. I can never do that. You see, I can only form mental pictures but you were gifted to bring them to reality. You’ve rendered me useless brother, for what is the need of a dreamer without the executor?
There’s a ship in friendship that ferries friends to their destiny, but ours left me stranded at the cove as you chose a shortcut to end all this. You’re a coward, you should have looked death in the eye and told him ‘not yet, you aren’t taking me alone I am not leaving without my twin brother’
The same way there’s a hood in brotherhood, a feeling of belonging, and being appreciated, my hood scoured all the worthy memories of us, now emptiness hovers around my heart like a dark soot in a clear sky. But I still hope that one day, you’ll be here to answer my questions. I’m not done but I’ve got to go to work. I didn’t tell you, I work for seven days a week for a little pay just to keep my son alive!

Woodpecker Mourns

This morning I heard Woodpecker sing
She sang melodious songs
in mournful tones
She sang of victories;
The song of a worrier
leaving a battle field
with spear in his right hand
and a shield in the left
The voices of fallen comrades
drowning his chants of praise
then tears streaked his visage
he wept for families lost
beautiful wives
in curvy shapes and sound morals
warmth of children with innocent demeanour
The soldier wept for a future lost
of bodies disfigured
and red rivers
The Woodpecker sang it all
The plight of brave soldiers
whose sacrifices were met with greed
He returned home with nothing
but a spear in the right
and a shield in the left

Like a nightmare in a troubling sleep
home was no more
where his hut once stood
a notice now read:
“ PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESSPASS”
The woodpecker sang
Ooh, the bird sang this dawn
the dirges of heroes gone
She sang of Mboya
A great worrier of Joramogi
A worrier of pen and tongue
killed for being too good for the regime
The bird sang of Robert Ouko
A hero slain for being too intelligent
to the heads in crown

The Woodpecker sang some more
these sorrowful songs of dawn
of fireflies lost in thickness of darkness
of trumpets drowned in silence
of night’s vigilant angels
and daylight marauding devils

The bird won’t stop
Now she’s singing of tombs
split open by gods of revenge
the cries of innocent orphans heard
the cursing of the widows
awakened the wrath of Karma
the dead are awake now
coming for their dues
now be quiet the mourning bird
the village awaits the morning bloodbath