Being Broke

With a face of grim concentration, as though you are being watched by an enthralled audience, you deliver a prophecy: ‘ii ni ile wiki gas itaisha.’ You see, the conditions are perfect – you are broke and have no prospects of seeing any money in the foreseeable future. the trouble with the prophecy is that you do not know the exact date or time the gas will sneak a surprise on you. But you have a rough idea: it will happen when you are jovial, when you are halfway cooking ugali, and at approximately seventeen minutes before midnight.

It just happens that when you have no money bad stuff and surprises sneak up on you. It is in the constitution under article (7) (f). There is nothing much you can do about it except chin up and get used to it. There just isn’t any school, or app that shows you the percentage of gas left in your cylinder. And you, right there, have the audacity to think that we are civilized? Well, if you think so, why don’t you cook with it?

At that point you have no energy to resist the thought that some people’s lives are far much better than yours. People who use firewood to cook. First of all, there is a way food cooked with firewood tastes so much better. It is as though there is a hidden cooking intellect hidden in the sooth-producing source of fuel. Second, you’d know in advance when you are about to run out of firewood, and plan your cooking. There is no way, in a hundred years (unless it rains), you would wake up in the middle of the night to make a meal.

The last time you checked out, there was a student who had invented an app that would tell the amount of gas left in your cylinder. It involved a laptop, and some application that eludes even your wildest imaginations. It would save you a lot, that app. But you’d have to make that university student rich first. Which might be something you are reluctant because you cannot figure out how such a man’s brains works while yours only comes up with the most mundane stuff like: ‘let me have a drink. I may have ideas.’ Then you have ideas, and it all revolves around having another drink. That goes on until your wallet begins making hearty jokes when you tell it about other better ideas. Usually it is the following day when you wake up with only 50 shillings and an unopened packet of condom.

The Day Everything Changes

 the head feels a little light 

a testament of bleak and blurry thoughts

running havoc, yet running things 

and the strides, leading astray 

adopted its purposeless 

each metre gobbling up remaining active brain cells 

and there was no guilt whatsoever 

because it was a day everything changed forever 

and strange gathered around, 

as though the camp fire the listen to a sage 

of a man well traveled, 

well travelled not beyond the walls of his bedroom 

consuming thoughts of greatness 

of vanities 

of the consuming aura of penury

but not today 

because today everything changes forever 

the beguiling sense of much sought affection 

usurped senses, dreams suddenly stalled 

for she stood and said; lets go 

and the men scampered 

and a chapter began 

a chapter that's still being written  

Nervous

 It is one in the morning

I am nervous. I do not know why I am nervous

Boyz II Men is playing 

I am alone in a sea of people 

bobbing up and down the waves 

Clinging to twigs

I am drowning in a sea of men 

Men having the best times of their lives 

I am nervous 

And I do not know why. 

Something is grinding my intestines 

A diabolic being is guiding my thoughts 

My conscience is blurry 

Like a king's impending death 

I am no prince 

There was never a kingdom 

Wheelbarrows For The Poor

 The 'Hustler's' chopper raises dust 

Amid chants from the poor and the downtrodden 

The poor who wants the hustler's crumbs 

Crumbs for a bread - a stole bread 

For the hustler has never owned a bakery 

It is Well

 It is well, if it will be well 

For nothing surmounts the will of man 

Nothing - not even death 

is a barrier to a hopeful man 

It is well - even if for a second 

Even when the pains resist medication 

It is well 

Second Chances

We'll dream once more, 

and we'll shout on rooftops 

So that world can know 

that our pains have'nt washed away hopes 

We'll lift our fists in defiance 

Our fists gripping the last of our dreams 

Because every day present a chance 

to toil every second until the sun dims 

We'll pursue the same horizon

With the same glee 

Our pains are all but gone 

We'll to thrive, not just be 

Listen

 Listen, it was all my fault 

Nowadays I do a good job at 

making mistakes 

Nobody makes mistake, repeatedly, 

like I do 

Listen, there is no joy in making mistakes

There is no joy in being insane 

Listen, making mistakes is sometimes fun 

You just subtract common sense 

And have yourself uninterrupted moments of bliss 

Even when it involves serpents 

Ever waiting to sink its fangs on you 

It's still fun 

Because it does not involve your brain 

Listen, 

I do not promise you I'll change 

Change is for people hoping to make 

this miserable earth a wonderland 

Change is for people unattached to hope 

For I have learnt, in my wanders, 

That hope is a dangerous thing - 

it can kill a man 

 

Listen, 

There is nothing to live for 

Listen, 

Beauty has lost all its gleam 

Washed away by flowing pains 

Some real, some I imagine them 

Some have coursed through my veins for eons 

Reluctant, to devour me in one swift bite 

 

Listen, 

I cared - there are moments I still think I do 

I care because I am still alive 

I care because I still effortlessly breath 

I wasn't born doing this but I am so good at it