SOMEDAY

Someday everything shall make more of sense

Than these allusions of invisible bliss

Someday everything will wear out nonsense

Someday I won’t be able to recognize these

Someday all my efforts shall come to fruition

Putting up with sleepless nights for the dream

Someday, someday I will live from my passion

Someday everything will be better than it seem

Parents shall exhort their kids to be like me

Someday I will be the object of admiration

Saying ‘be like him,’ with so much emotion

Someday I will be full like the ocean and sea

Someday my life shall be confined in a memory

Told with tears through the backing of this story

Someday I will be nothing, but living through poems

Someday I will live only through my poems

THERE

Take my hand I will take you there

Don’t ask me where the place is

Ask me if I will one day dare

 Abandon you when something’s amiss

Upon my breathe you will be the reason

The reason our destination is so high

High above the sky through every season

Stay with me until times get nigh

Lets walk there girl of my passion

The place is beyond the heavens

Look, it overshadows intuition

My heart is yours a safe haven

LOST BATTLE

The last words she said still lingers

She said I wasn’t fit to be her lover

Somebody else had made her see

That all along I was a piece of shit

She said that too without any shame

 I’ve lost the battle I had won

Locked the armory, threw the key

Made home a comfort zone

Now she gone, it’s a war zone

Battles are fought fruitlessly

HUNGER AND FLOODS

A forlorn face greeted its arrival

It’s posed a real threat to survival

Pockets barely enough to sustain

Mouths try to feed on the remains

                                                                                                                                                  

Aid has already been sent, we hear

Tons of food worth to last a year

Pangs of hunger do not relent

Bought patience−didn‘t cost a cent

The sun’s is scorching us on the north

But we hear floods have made food rot

And our brothers swept on the south

All long for something in the mouth

GRAPPLING WITH DYING

When age catches up with man

He bows down to instructions

Of mortality

No one wants to imagine that one day he shall leave the earth and join the ancestors in their inscrutable abode. Death has always scared me ever since I was a kid, way back in primary school. I tried to grapple with the thought that one day I would be no more, except bones that would extract million of years to come and be a case study of a certain species of the human being.

I partly lay claim to my mother for these thoughts. She tainted my imaginations and filled me with dread at such a young age. Though she didn't intend to, she ignited a sense of powerlessness into my young life. Her genuine intention was to warn me but inadvertently spilled overboard. I remember being so much scared t sleep, I thought that morning would come and wouldn't see it. And I was the only boy…..imagine how my night was sleeping all alone

Each day I would stop and think about dying like I had a terminal disease. At that time we lived with a destitute family from the North of Kenya, where Tullow Oil Company is trying to find use to the arid land. A mother and her two young boys. Their presence a midst us was a thing we couldn't fathom. I personally could bring myself to sharing anything with them. Mother was generous and gave them food. I always cringed seeing them munch gluttonously eat‘our’ food which no one else was entitled. It belonged to us and us alone.

During the day they would a company us to graze the sheep. Sometimes they would go alone on the orders of their mother, especially when she knew there was nothing to eat. That way she would be assured that her children would have something to eat. Taking care of the sheep was a pleasant thing and I would order the around with a cane. Its one of this misdemeanors that mother caught me. She warned to stop but I didn't. I took them to the river side where their cries would be muffled by the raging waters and whipped them like slaves.

I didn't stop whipping them because I couldn't. It instilled in me a kind of heroism. Mother realized this and warned me that I would be cursed. And that was when I got scared of dying. I had heard that someone had been cursed and he died. My cousin knew him and told of him with concealed pain in her voice. He was her boyfriend and she didn’t want to show it. It would have earned her a severe beating back then.

From then on wards, I treated them with kindness, although feeling deprived of my only source of heroism, which was replaced by the scary tough of dying. I even became religious, seeking forgiveness when no one was watching me. Life then became so dull and meaningless.  I didn't want to play with my age mates. It ate me. It took way my innocence. I lived like a man nearing his old age at such an early age.  

The thought gradually disappeared as I grew up. But at times I would recall. Those moments taught not to take life for granted and live each day like it would be my last. I have now accepted that its where every human being will end up.  

She Hates Me

S

She is a stranger to me. I know little about beyond her name, Abigail. A beauty if you widen the spectrum of gauging it. In other words she is ugly. Her company is fancied only when the sun goes down and not everywhere but in the remote village like Turkana or Pokot. She repels everything that illumines owing to her pitch black skin.

I met her the other day in town. It wasn’t my own thinking to meet her but by the virtue of helping a friend back at home, too tired of typing onto his computer. He wanted some up to date computer games, which I was to purchase and hand it over to her. Sadly she came earlier than I had anticipated and her incessant calls yielded to frustration. With each passing minute I still kept telling her to wait for some minutes even after hours had elapsed.  

Nevertheless she waited. Bothering me with her calls and texts which I am glad I managed to ignore.  All in all she couldn’t leave without the precious merchandise; her relationship did bind her to him. I admit it is kind of sinister for this guy has never met her. In fact I conducted a viability study on her and declared her unfit for occupation in his heart. Seems my words fell on the wrong side. May be she is more than I have described her earlier. May be she’s cast a spell on him.

 A few minutes to five o’clock in the evening I made an audacious attempt find the extent of her rage. True, she had that haggard look and talked to me with a tone that left a trace of her anger. I mumbled a sorry which was diluted by ‘I have waited for you for like forever’ look.

We parted ways as quickly as the penis parts with erection once it pukes the white precipitation, that substance responsible for human life. Life is like this, I thought as I shoved my way through a multitude of people making way to their destinations after sunset. You rarely have what you want unless you are the one giving it to your own self. Depending on people can be disappointing. Coupled with the mobile phone, you can be assured of something before it is even made, if it can be made. This technological world is not for the faint hearted.

Abigail didn’t want to deal with me anymore. I had delivered half of what I was asked to and the rest was with me. She seemed to have dreaded the thought of seeing me again−once bitten twice shy. My consciousness told me I had failed and the only way was to clear it of regret. I offered to take it to her but the problem lay in bringing myself down to accept the fact that I didn’t know where she was asking me to board a bus. It meant bruising my ego, welts emanating from it can take forever to heal. 

Again I managed to fail even after combing the whole city looking for the bus station. I skived class just for that. I suck in taking directions, I always alter them.

She too knows less of me but she can’t never trust me if I choose to stalk her. What I did though not a representing of the real me has left me utterly deprived of a reason to be accorded another chance to display the real me. She hates me. That’s all I know of her.

LET ME TALK ABOUT HER

I made a startling discovery a few minutes before dawn

That she gracefully strutted in my mind on and on

Her bewitching smile captivating like the morning sun

I rose from my slumber; sure she’d be with me every turn

Allow me to talk about her though I may not exhaust

I admit her presence always make me look so lost

Lost in a world full of any conceivable bliss

She holds my breath in her hands with ease

I’ve suffocated numerous times, still I don’t care

Am so used to it, it is not something to be called a dare

Let me talk about her nose, it makes her face looks so pretty

Like a rose yet to be plucked, her name is Betty

Let me talk about Betty, now that you know her name

I first saw her in the park and I’ve never felt the same

She was the missing link, my heartbeat told me so

I loved her and did let her know, her lips parted before

She could say I love you too, though after awhile

Ever since my life’s been so worthwhile