The Bondage

From the way she stared at me
From the seat across the hall
I could tell,
That in her books
I was the perfect definition of immoral and indecent
with my V-shaped tight vest
curving clearly the river between my valleys
and my skinny legs
exposed by my chisel-shaped skirt
I could see it in her eyes.
The only visible features
from her entirely veiled body
Those big beautiful eyes
They betrayed her desire
her undying desire
that for a minute she could be me
In my place of freedom
to operate free from the book
Away from bondage
Not veiled from the world
By the dictated costume
The scripted costume
she has known from her childhood
Then the desire swelled to hate
I could read it in those eyes
You see,even though she forced that smile,
Those eyes could not lie
The grumbling curses from her within
I could read them in those big beautiful eyes.
That desire to be in my place
And the sad dawn
that she could never be
she has a scripted life
and that is how she has to live
by the book.
Eternally.

We Used To

We used to lie down
on this tiny bed
with a flicker of a paraffin lamp
lighting our little house
we had fun
we said, it was romantic
a plate of boiled rice and beans
was our once a week special meal
going hungry the rest of the week
was just... normal
My wholly patched yet torn shorts
used to turn you on
they gave you easy access, you said
But now,
paraffin smell gives you respiratory diseases
dim light strains your eyes
our 'mkeka' mattress hurts your back
a grain of bean bloats your stomach
unwashed fruits constipate you
the language for the affluent
we mocked it together, remember?
But you are in the limelight now
show after show, paycheck after another
Hail to the music I inspired you to write
now you sing to the women in your videos
Dancing bare bottomed to your face
while you squeeze and spank
sending Shout outs to your newly acquired friends
In an accent so foreign
I have lost you to fame my darling
Fame has taken you away from me
Fame has robbed my heart.

Pessimistic Anti-Valentine

Do not paint my town red
with your red clothes
and your red scarfs
and your red ribbons
and scary red dolls
You are in this world alone
Stop holding hands in public
swinging like the world is yours
And why do you hate flowers so much?
that they have to suffer for your love?
and stop misusing adjectives
and exclaiming at ordinary gifts
and reducing the words love, angel and hero
into ordinary
and don't take your lovey dovey
to social media
That's a lonely people hang out joint
Get a room already.
and don't kiss and tell!

Beauty and Fun of Reading.

The beauty of reading,
it squeezes the universe
reduces it into an atom.
Brings what happens thousands of miles
closer to my peep.
Then I can learn about what happened
before my birth and
the birth of those
who came before me.
Their struggles,their pains
their journey to triumph.

I see the future in my reading.
Know who did what,why,where,when,how.
Of celebrities and their sex lives.
Of fellow artists and their struggle to fame.
Of psychotic psychiatrists.The irony.
Of princesses and prince charms.
of ignored religions
and obsolete cultures
Life under the sky, above and yonder
All condensed into the fit of my palm

Of heroes and villains.
Fantasy, action, fiction.
All folded into a book.
Or a post online.
All brought closer to my reach.
And I enjoy this
lying on the floor
in my little house,
sipping sugarless tea.
Who will say I've never traveled
All over the world and beyond?

(Photo courtesy of Google Images)

Just As You Are

I don't care where we eat
Son ford, Imbiss, Hilton
or Hotel Boulevard
As long as we don't starve
I don't care if you drive or not
As long as we get home
I don't care where we go to
as long as we get to see the light of day,
And the stars in the dark,
and breath the fresh of air
I don't care where we party
Long as we drink, make friends and make merry
besides, every beer tastes the same regardless
where we drink it, right?
Just be my partner in this jungle
I shall ask for no more.

Please My People Stop! (Cry for my Nation)

Please my people stop
stop this madness
stop these killings
how many more will we bury?
How many more children will be orphaned?
How many more parents will lose their children?
Vengeance you say?
Eye for an eye you obey
so then you want all Kenya blind?
Please stop I plead.
Stop this madness.
Let no more blood pour
Let no more houses burn
Let no woman be raped
Let all this bitterness drain away
we are one people.
Our tomorrow matters
Different, yes
But did anyone choose where to be born?
Let's live together in harmony
No more fighting,
no more pain
The grass has been painted red enough
Enough tears have been shed
Please my people, please. Stop!
I plead.

The African Story - (Celebrating Africa)

The African story
Told amid cluttering noises
Of broken pots
And silent walls
Told over sharing a traditional beer
At the sun set.
Of ancient cultures
Fading traditions
Wails over the dead
Togetherness of the bereft
Drum rolls of the sorcerers
Over shaking of the beaded gourds
And chattering of new tongues.
Of proverbs by the religious
Hysterical outbursts of folk songs
Vigorous dancing, tooshie shaking
A practiced repeated rhythm
Our history is told
Our legacy revisited.
Our old Africa,
Where mouth served as newspaper
and radio and satellite and television
Cannot be replaced.
Battle for our freedom
Encrypted carefully on hard covered books
From the horn of Africa, to south
To the direction of the sun rise and set
One thing still remains
Our story, our African story,
Whether in indigenous or foreign tongues
Written by Anglophones, or natives
The visitors or hearers
Still remains our story
We own it
We own our Africa.




{Photo courtesy of Google Images}