Into the Darkness...

Into the Darkness.

Light has come and died,
The echoes of silence faded…
To this artlessness…
Where no colour permeates,
And a long long journey has started,
Into the deep,
Far sadness...
of this darkness.

Into the dark the sound has faded,
The world has disappeared,
For direction we pray,
For hope,
As a step is made,
by us,
by many,
Further into the unknown,
Here where lacks inspiration,
Picking little solids in our fingers,
Painting and scribing what we are feeling…
preserving ourselves in song,
in art,
in poetry...
in our heart's throng.

Into the darkness,
Feeling exposed and vulnerable,
Grabbing from what we can’t see,
Coiling together,
The fingers into our fists,
Punching this hollow air,
Shouting at no one.
We know the tears are flowing,
When our fear is growing…

We have not fallen,
Or know if we are lost.
So we keep together…
Guarding one another!
But the darkness has started,
A long long journey,
Into the deep…
Far parts of me.

Till Death...

Till Death.

There are things I want in life…
But if this things deprive me,
What is most important of all…
Then I will gladly rid myself of that need,
I will try being,
Without this.

Till death,
Should life change in the process,
Make more meaning than it already is
Give more sense,
Tame these wild inclinations in me,
Should I learn how to crawl out of the dark,
Share in the light,
Open my eyes and see,
The beautiful things here.

Should I then,
make haste towards my God,
Thank my existence,
Make a legacy,
Timid as it may be,
I shall hope I made a difference.
With a tune or without,
With my lady and dance…
I will tell tales to my young,
How once I was a lad…
With Great Spirit and dream…

I shall make mine the strings,
Play a long yearn to the heavens,
Play music unheard,
I will tear down my clothes,
Walk into the pool of many waters,
Feel it caress my nudeness…
Surrender to this violation,
For I shall have welcomed it.

I will let her eyes unsettle me,
I will look head on…
Maybe let off a smile,
And when my heart betrays me,
I will pretend it was nothing!
Till death,
I will not be easy and predictable.
Rouse curiosity for I can be,
Amazing and sensational.

Till death,
I will take none for granted,
A charm is always nice,
So is indulgence in dialogue…
I will hold those little hands,
And let their innocence slay me,
Hear their chattering,
Laugh at the little marvels,
Treasures from maternity wards.

Till death,
I will speak the truth quietly,
I will creep through the covetous,
Through they who bite and stab in the back,
I will crawl among the desolate,
Learn their secrets,
See them for who they are.
I will stoop to the very lows,
Emerge when they speak,
For I will stare into their eyes,
They need not lie while am here.

Till death,
I will know good music when I hear it….
I will know good character when am with them,
I will know talent when it marvels me,
I will smile at humour,
I will lust after beauty,
Love the heart.
If nature demands it, I shall be emotional!
If destiny chooses it, I shall steward it.
If am but a vessel…
I will overflow with content…

If there is light, I shall follow,
In the dark I shall wait…
Fight if I must, with the strange and unfamiliar…
I will enjoy the test of pain,
Bleed if I must,
Conquer the blade…
Shift the wind…
Am not Samurai,
But my soul is its own master.
Taught me great things on the way,
Till death when I walk in her element,
That spirit which I call soul,
Let a drum beat,
Join me with the rhythm of my land,
The great hooves of the wildebeests,
The trump of the elephant,
The soft paw of Simba and Cheetah,
Make me one with these beasts ,
Let that mourn curve in the hills…
Around her breasts,
My lover’s hair!
With the water that she bathes…
The air that she breathes,
Sing a song of the triumphant,
When this poet is no more,
Till death,
And when am gone.

Breaking Free...

Breaking Free…

I never noticed the flowers,
The ones on our highways,
In the dust and soot,
They still look good…
Like my diamond in the ruff,
Who I’d wish to set free
See how beautiful she be…

I saw some thought coming,
Its bearer seemed a bit strange…
Took me and imprisoned me,
Tore me off my dictions,
Told me of a prison… I was in!
Prisoner of a fiction,
That robs me of time,
That drains me of life
Every day,
Until I had enough of it…
Until the plan got complete
To have me converted
To have my eyes wide open…
To see me breaking free.

A tattered person,
A driver on a speedy highway,
A man collect like garbage,
A student sat on the wrong fate…
A maize vender and his chilly plate….
A drug peddler in dark alleys…
A hooker stripping down a pole
A poet sinking in talent,
A grave digger down a hole…
Deep in the eyes where few see
A soul trying to break free.

Picked this intellectual tad
I.T. for retards,
Now pressing on this space bar,
Attempted to PAUSE this far…
The mind on some deep thought.
How I go about life?
Have I known what I was called for?
Am I what I was born to do?
Acting like exempt students of life…
Thought I’d skip some life lessons,
Looked like I learned them eons,
Till I lost that last war,
With faith and my religion…
Now I roam out and about,
For something I can believe in!
So I can break free….

Paper......

I see it now,
the extinction of paper use,
no books...
no bibles like the prophecy told,
into electronics will all go.
Like running out of paper,
Explaining why I write so much on facebook.
Or why I lost that last note,
About good and evil
Love at valentines,
And decided to post that other stuff,
Talk about death on valentines.
Until of course,
ran out of paper use,
Opened the heart to a different tune,
A dirge,
An organ in a gothic church,
And sang me an insanity!


Before the paper run out,
I will turn to the opinion pages,
Read the new inspiring Mutahi Ngunyi,
wonder about those expensive suits,
our lidless politicians.
I suppose there is something out there
Mutahi is alluding to...
interesting stories of Kenyan Military Generals
or intelligent LECTURERS,
maybe an IMAM or Father of Christian Faith.
I am spelling a REVOLUTION…
and am spoiling for one too.

Before the paper run out,
Erich Omondi will produce one of those,
Arguably hilarious peaces,
Maybe tarnish a campus name,
I heard he was on our corridors.
Maybe before he run out of paper,
And Have to spend days
Without a lovely audience,
Because lets face it,
He does well with Churchill,
Match made in heaven,
For us with a sense of humor!
He will have to read,
poetry,
and seek his poetic justice.


Before I run out of paper,
Write something I made clear,
Am keeping list of cupid sympathizers,
I have recruited people,
who think otherwise…
a little less BLOODIER than I,
thought I was being ironic,
until of course,
they tear with their own,
a faint heart that never worn a fair lady.

Before I run out of paper,
I will think about the government of Kenya,
G.K. name sake initials,
Who missed class for missionary reasons,
Who happened to be,
last week’s cartoon,
I will think about certain individuals,
Salute them for my respects,
Before I run out of paper,
And draw them for who they are…

Before I run out of paper,
this sheet won't go extinct,
I will congratulate our generous efforts,
To read notes made,
By a melodic composer,
Who sings what is in his heart,
Or lack of it,
Who sees the world,
A bit funny…
Thinks everyone should have
a sense of humor
Knows enough to know nothing,
Quotes what is said in class,
Because he’s learning.

Before we run out of paper,
Make love notes,
Hate notes,
And thank you notes to all,
Saying “Thank you, am doing fine”
Mean the doing part more
Than thanks for nothing part.
Think about that SLUMDOG MOVIE,
the ghetto life indeed,
which one needs to see,
to surely believe!


Before I run out of paper,
Have to flush this down,
Write here, “ I was here!”
Save this last part,
For a special verse.
For a while later,
Place it in an envelope,
Send it,
To receive,
What needs no paper!
What takes no space…
Like having something that is true.
Like knowing something is true,
before running out of paper,
to save this written truth.

Death of Valentines...

I lost it yesterday,
I Sort a blade and went for cupid...
She said I was hurting her,
I said," I know!"
Now I hold her head,
blood trickling to the floor
these eyes so wide open...
like glass beads reflecting,
the image of my own
heartless soul.

I hid the body under my carpet,
now I got a big lump in my room.
I warned her the day would come,
February fourteenth,
I walk now with withered petals,
I'd pluck them all
but I figured this looked better.
I have bloodied finger prints on my face,
she surely put up a fight.

I have branded this as romance,
She will haunt me now forever,
I will have nothing for her to forgive.
I will only have me
and her head if she wants it.
I think,
I took things too seriously this time,
when she placed a flower vase on my desk.
I broke the wood and made a coffin,
I even managed a wreath,
To place it on her tomb stone.

I hold a shovel now,
deep in the hold of a lover's night,
cold breeze comforts me,
as I dig a shallow grave.
Pretty round ball,
me and her had a ball,
crept up walls,
said nothings and a lot of something’s
I pity her horrible fortune
had life and great aim...
the arrow in me is proof of it.

I am dried of tears,
empty sockets of dark space.
I am pale of years,
Killed the hundredth of these...
I am tied of fears,
stuck in a web down my basement.
I have not yet seen
the cupid that slay me here.

They will follow the bloody trail,
Lonely gathering of cupid sympathizers,
I will take photos of them all,
Hit list them till I have at last,
one who sympathizes with mine,
that one cupid who slain,
deep with arrow,
where I forbid it!
I will not hesitate then
to proceed,
and conquer her kin.

For finally I will attend,
my valentine's death!

On fire....

Tragedy hits once so often to wake a nation into its grave realities. I guess that is some reason to peg onto the recent disastrous events that took place within a certain week in January. We lost 150 plus lives by just a fire. Nothing to be taken lightly since there is something we all learned from the two fires. A supermarket caught fire on a Wednesday afternoon, and the irrational detail is the fact that the stores employees closed the doors requesting receipts to allow the victims exit.

Things did eventually get out of hand, and the same individuals continued the streak of cruelty by saving their own swine asses. Going down electric poles like shameless strippers, for they have stripped lives off of people. Another incident, a while a way-three days later- a tanker blows off on a highway. Killing 111 people on the spot and injuring scores of others, now nursing devastating wounds.

Kenya is on fire, where a frantic such for leadership ensues. It is now more frenzy than calmness. Everywhere one goes, there is talk of who can do this?who can handle that? Frankly speaking, I have been some of that myself. I know I can rant about something and make good sense of it. I am aware there is no fairness in this world, unless of course you are heavily endowed with earthly possession. Things don't quite cut like they used to. People are often inclined to tear everything in pieces. Things are surely falling apart, Chinua Achebe once inscribed!

Someone needs to douse the