Inside...

I saw five dead today...with bullet holes. Nothing like what we see in movies, that's just screen play!
I saw the horror in death, the grave silence and no movement. It made me sick. I held it in,and looked into every dead man's eyes. I am not afraid of death, God's children aren't.

However,I am afraid of something...it occurred to me when I finally decided to go to Strathmore. You mean a lot to me, a tad too much. I know what you mean by pushing me to the periphery, and I never had a problem with that. Until now, when you put it so vividly. Tired you say...I hope not!
We are both quite capable of moving on, with much ease I'd believe. Thing is, I always like it when you come over or when I see you. Life is so vulnerable and brief...am here to make my peace and die.
Be forgotten and make room for some other sensation to the world. I am not sure of this world, what I will get eventually. I am sure though, I will truly and gladly have you. Am not only saying that, I know how serious am feeling.

Pity how things unfold between us, an effortless adventure. You need the thrill I know...I need the scars and the dare devil moments. I did find what I was looking for...it is right in front of my eyes. I just wish you'd turn around and see, yourself looking at me. My eyes have never been this clear, you'll see!
I miss you.
Do not spare me, I don't need protection from you!
Protect me from the world, because I am about to upset it. Disturb its controversies, make my life's attempt.

I want to live full...

Where the air is Thick!...

Where the air is thick!
I have gone to a place,
like what a journey would be...
and had sweet thick mango juice,
A Kayamba playing in the back ground,
like that group of men call themselves Kayamba Africa
there was a man though,
a Rasta Man chewing at Muguka
green gobbler and something he's mumbling
between stuffing his mouth.
and puffing a cigarette,
the air here is unmistakably thick
so he says with a thick baritone voice,
"young man!",
"write us some of that scribble you call poetry..."
"am in a mood for anything"
and a thick air came about me,
to put some sense into him!

I have had the taste of the loins
put to folklore my curiosity and yearning...
My friends and I prepare judgment over things,
before our indulgence,
I listen to Bach, Mozart and still get high on Jua Cali talent,
there are emerging Benga, Jazz and Soul birds where I revel,
it is not just the drink and dance floor that takes me there
it is the thick air around,
the music and people dancing to it,
I might just as well have Alvaro while am at it.

I was looking for club Sound…
Listen to my own kind for a start,
That never seems to pan out as I imagine it…
In fact so have many things, I keep holding back.
Of course the fellow going green in his mouth,
Had something to say to this,
Took a lot of stomaching for my young intestines,
“ Young Man[Kijana!] did you use rubber?”
“ Then you know nothing of tasting loins”
Taken aback, “AIDs” would have been a more probable
Way to go about it.
I simply manage… “The world is a terrifying place”
And the thick starts again about me…
Now taking a form of rage.

The thick air around,
In the library between books on a shelf,
Called it philosophy, poetry, art….
I think I saw Hamlet in some play Shakespeare wrote,
And now the soap opera about me,
A love affair am having has failed in comparison of these.
So I’ll keep wanting more,
Scribe my own kind of scheme to brain wash people
That this too is a kind of love.
The thick air about me,
The life here within.

Student Martyr….

Student Martyr….
We are the start of a good tomorrow,
A local campus will unsettle these streets,
Stop traffic for a course,
Because there are others in prison schools,
Waiting to be bailed out,
Out of an eight for fall system,
Doing K.C.S.E and coming to this domain,
The AAAAAAAAA’s and EEEEEEEEEEEE’s of a failing system.

We are student Martyrs,
Make those who come, a better place.
While we set new standards academically,
Set new standards on our fee slips,
Shouldn’t pay any higher for the same bull…
Four- five years in the same school,
Is this a money laundering business?
To build castles
We have not even stricken ….
While a Unite Of Nations threw stones at police,
We the stressed-more ask for police escorts in the evening.

A student Martyr will say the unthinkable,
Do the impossible…
To stand for what is right for all students,
For all teaching faculties to comprehend,
The institutions might not need one individual…
But what can they do when there are no students?
Have they not heard of the Domino effect?
Make one fall, and then start a chain of failure…
Build one, and build all the rest.

Life of a student Martyr,
See one and you outcast…
Hear one and you silence…
Read one and you banish.
A student Martyr in persecution.
Don’t they get it? it is we who make the institution.
It is the University of our minds,
Because in our diversities…
We choose to seek a common goal,
A universal understanding of one other!

A student Martyr in our comments,
In the murmur of conversations between us,
It is the voice of the oppressed,
The grunt of the one violated,
It is the cry of injustice outside…
It is the one throwing stone…
The one reading this poetry,
A student martyr living it!

A poisonous Air...

There is a poisonous air,
coming from the wars of heaven,
the wars here on earth,
and we have taken time to manipulate,
the clean air,
we have sold it,
we sell it for a price...
so we can breath
so we can sell each other our freedom.

Why should we ask for what God Has given?
who brought the coin?
the money that now tears us apart,
the coin that chooses people's fates,
by the toss of a coin,
we live or die.
The hungry,
the wealthy...
selling clean air,
begging for what they have.

A poisonous air inhaled,
has made us disoriented,
It has deluded many,
we must get the high off freedom,
and so we buy without thought,
we buy our freedom as if it were taken from us.
We buy our thoughts as if we had none.
We beg for order as if we are not orderly.
Even in war and mutiny there is order,
chaos is a kind of order.
It is a disorder....

There is a poisonous air,
that has ruin many at heart,
darkened souls and sold to the devil.
The prophesied times are with us.
It is not going to happen...
It is happening!
and the air will thicken still,
It will scare and unsettle those of us without belief
It will waken the beast,
It will call the heavens,
and I might as well begin,
to start buying my freedom,
in better advice,
with a surer foot!
Start taking the poisonous air,
slowly,
puffing,
sipping...
and getting my high.
so that a painting become liquid
those we love become vivid,
and what passion I have become written
like poetry, the poisonous air it is.

To be Kenyan is to be these…

I went to a local primary school,

Used the same bag for seven years,

It was pure leather from K.M.C. products.

I drunk K.C.C. milk thanks to a political strategist,

Who I have come to both ridicule and praise.

I didn’t think much of my future,

My dad did much of that for me…

Time he stopped doing that,

Like I’ll stop cowering from wondering,

If the system continues to fail so bad…

Then more of us will die,

From secret assassinations,

When another group emerge harness disorient youth.



I am glad I got what I have,

Straps of sandals on clean feet,

Articulate in my matters and affairs,

I take little to a fool’s whim.

Why should 2012 be any different?

Same mongers seat on the throne.

Shame politics still tribal,

Jesters and my future employers.

Because I might as well be their recruit.

Or else I live doing examinations in lecture rooms.

Till I have every degree that makes a C.V.

So that am accepted clean into the running of things.

But true is that,

How many get in clean,

Dirty business dealing with kids,

Even charity and N.G.Os seem a little hood wink,

Why do we have so many things need protecting from?

More ladies driving on our roads,

Congratulations to them, who know how the world goes round…

Same as it did back in the day.

It is the smart ones that have it going good.

That is food for thought in our books,

Before another magazine define how unromantic we are,

The Adams apple will rumble right,

Cause an evening fall down,

Because it needs a boss.



Laughing at the same ranting,

How advanced we are going to be,

Talk about the Kenya we want,

What we don’t want is more talk.

All good things come to an end.

At least make as many people get taste of it.

Before we have a repeat of December ‘07.

Let’s enjoy the peace we are having,

And not take it for granted that we live like this.



Youth will make love with condoms,

Disregard that A.I.Ds. exists,

Until there are no more virgins to conquer,

Till our morals waste away at Carnivore,

Over and over again on a local tune,

The new heat wave taking over us in our millions.

Because I get the feeling no one believes in love anymore,

Like we have take away at everything,

No more home cooked meals,

Take away at clubs joints.

Taken away by the western plague.

Playing marbles with everything,

Tapping fingers on our desks,

Hatching new conquest and ways to make ourselves,

Today’s talk and press release.



Wait till am done with this formality,

Get my degree…

Pay back my dues to my mother,

When I get this talent working for all

For the good and entertainment of all.

When I get it right in the manner of things,

How to proceed with an extra cautious foot,

Because I am about to roar,

On a pillar and call out a crowd,

My small crowd, the ears I get to…

The minds I touch and move,

As my blood moves and penetrates.

There is nothing as lively,

Until we start sipping into the system,

Until the great tools of year gone,

By Greeks and Romans,

By the Chinese in the yellow river valley,

By Kwame Nkurumah,

By my History teacher,

My geography teacher who I imagined wrote notes,

Of deep and intrinsic thought.

How is that we start legacy?

Is it not like these…?

To be Kenyan is to be these.

Hail Caesar...

There was a time I wasn't sure
what I could be capable of...
That a man can be the tears,
a bloodied nose,
a vein with hot blood...
He is life and that too is magnificent,
Like a blank wall,
we take spray paint and put graffiti
like a girl will do her nails.
It is the blunt things that sharpen a blade
it is the current that smooths the stones.

I will speak language,
what a secret organization would know...
watch the pattern of his behavior,
like watching a piano student
couldn't be more obvious,
that this is Caesar,
watch his finger around the queen,
making moves on a checkered board,
Playing chess like Kasparov.
on the harbor where many fishermen dock
and if you manage to find me,
in a straw hat,
taking the sunshine,
while I chew on a chilly
spicing things and life up.

What is the difference between swimming in the river,
and swimming in the sea?
There is much more water I guess.
But I bet sharks are pretty good swimmers too.
I know my heart well,
there is much to build and much to see...
how would you think an alien looks?
much the same as our insides...
Terrifying and horrifying
but very real.
Ask the C.I.A if you think I was lying,
but I guess you'll hear the same thing.

Hail Caesar,
Holding a thumbs up...
approving yet another brutality,
The sport of men,
The spectators the weak and timid.
For we who are hailed,
go for the thrill,
it matters not how fast the beat,
It is the keen eye that sees,
from a pyramid...
a vantage point to get the most advantage.

Magicians perform,
Illusionists become...
and when the orchestra sings,
It is not song but an eruption.
The air is taken by all...
so squeeze the breath out of one,
and you upset everyone else.
You marvel the rest.
There is of course the matter of horror,
but that is over rated.

Human beings do more terrifying things to each other.
It is betrayal,
It is deceit,
It is love,
It is envy
Even in such things as happiness,
we do carry our selves in high esteem,
a little eloquence,
a little fizzle,
and a drink from a cold glass,
and we make ourselves the image we see in our mirrors.
Hail Caesar...
and raise a thumb or drop it down.

Leaf and Pencil…

Leaf and Pencil…

How long before I drown
before loud sirens come pick me,
before mouth to mouth resuscitation,
how long before leaf and pencil
become the last things in my palm.

Does she miss me,
does she need me,
bent on the sandy shores,
playing with her youthful soul,
does she miss me,
walked the world with feet sore,
torn around this misty lore.

Leaf and pencil write some whisper song,
draw this heart on beach shore...
take the sandy grains from my shorts,
clean her sandy sorts,
of hers a tender flock,
and caress me some more.

Coast guard and speed boats,
dolphins and seals float,
on swift fins on to seaward drift
take me there where she be mermaid,
steal me from here to far depths,
give me some gills to breathe with.

Leaf and pencil,
write the green matter in my conscience,
tell-tale of gooey content,
indispensable talent concentrate,
leaf and pencil,a hearty comment!
Nature is my genetic tendency.

Leaf and pencil on a poet,
lips and tongue,his duet...
with cunning lad and guitar,
make music and a heart beat torrent...
leaf and pencil on song let...
scheme the winds and her ears receive,
a leaf and pencil,
pink and purple sunset,

Leaf and pencil last quest,
on beach and sandy note pad...

Merlin an’ The poet….

Merlin an’ The poet….

Once the world was a sad and sorrowful place,
and the inhabitants of this world were desolate,
being cancerous and vexing beings.
There was no love as great that didn't find a fall
nor was there any young couple lasting long enough to find marriage,
all were but fleeting things unfulfilled.

There was a man though, gentle in his ways,
mannerisms of a gentle lad indeed,
pleased most his mother,
and the nature his lover.

He was naive, but he did harness a lot of knowledge,
his friends thought him wise,
an' nature court him thrice,
till he made love to her bountifully
A new being was born, and
they called it Freedom.
He was kind to let the child liberal,
and the world took to the child with vigor,
learned to appreciate a lot of things.

Whenever nature called him back for supper,
errands and chores to far places,
they all new how fragile they really were.
It scared them, the world!
They knew how weak they were getting with the child around,
so they schemed to conceal the child,
Kill him if they willed.
The marvelous pair...
when learned of these hatched plan,
took their child to the mind of one,
who's trust could not be doubted,
who's love not wavering,
He was quite unlike other beings,
for he knew nature too with that same intimacy,
but his choice to loom far from such legacy,
he took to books an' he writ poetry...
this was his honesty.

So freedom lived with desirable things,
since the man, had a love for art,
had a love for poetry,
had a love for knowledge,
had a love for feeling,
had a love still...
for an earth bound creature,
called her " Helen",
He played music, guitar strings...
violin and flute.
The child learned poetry an' praised it's mother...
with all those other things
an' the divine couple,
Nature an' Merlin...
thanked the man for all the good he did.

Then Merlin knew he was not lasting long,
an' they made love while heavens stormed,
an' causing another child coming of soon.
They called it Beauty,
sought the man who raised Freedom,
an' there left for her care,
for the world had grew a lust...that ate away their hearts.
An' they were both be-smacked with an awesome woe
They wrote song that wooed,
paint art that moved,
danced like worms in goo..
Dreamed of morning dew..
and while Helen was good, an' their love had grew
Freedom, Beauty an' Helen...
were so hard to choose,
who lay more in heart while timber burnt
to warm his soul,
This Man watching moon.

there was more laughter, art and speech...
Liberators grew in their many.
Conquerors an' Kings found their company,
never too long though to last their whims.
Until came another man...
of virgin sired,
an' wed with Beauty,
an' brother with Freedom.
An' the poet wept...sort his unrest.
Helen being kind to comfort,
while all went to heaven...
an' Man left.
There was a child born from this court,
called him Death,
came down to earth, haunt man an' his love...
promised that he would join them soon.
All he had to do was continue being good.
Have his loves, an' all come true.