AT THE QUAD

I have stood in this spot
Vaguely lost in myself
Admiring the crisscross patterns
Of busybodies zig-zagging
As if headed to important somewheres

I have stood on the pavement sides
Or sat in the cold ageless benches
Enjoying the concurrent madness
Of phoning, talking, plugged ears
    and occassional sexting

I have observed
The rush to every(no)wheres
Trying to understand …
Why, for hells’ many sakes
People always seem so in a rush
or so loud on the phone
or so shut out in their small i-worlds
Unable to say Jambo
                 Or return a greet.

NIGHTMARE

I felt your presence
In the whisper of the winds
Here,
In the piercing coldness
Of solitary nightness
Your formless shadow
Deposited me
              
              But alas!
The tangible me remained
Ensconced between the warmth
Of seductive bedding
Stupidity squatting beside me,
I snored on,
Vainly caressing that formless you.
         
             I heard you sing,
Distantly cajoled my patience
And hope
In a wilderness of pessimists
So I learnt,
Mastered the art
Of cyclical shadow-chasing
Graduated with honours
In Superficial Intimacy

             And now,
Into the deep open seas
Of murderous hatred
I steer this breaking vessel
Choking from protruding
Weeds of stale expectations..
         
             For these,
I refuse to swallow the bait
Of servitude
And my pride screams
Against my imprisonment

          So outward bound I am
Standing at the helm
And ready to set sail,
For my pride screams
Against my imprisonment;
THIS IMPRISONMENT!

SERENADE

Like the first fast rays of the sun
Your eyes pierced my soul
Straight through my heart
Dispelling...
The cloud of gloom

Like the eagle
My heart soared into the sky
Earth and heaven asunder
My joy knows no bound…
And my face;
Miles of smiles

My lips quivered like feathers in a gale
Hungry and searching
From yours a permanent seal
And in your arms
Warmth like no other
On earth I found.

Like pigeons,
Like doves together we’ll be
Pecking and perching in the sky
Our hands stretched for company
In the wind
At dusk we’ll play.

Grow with me Love
Till the approach of sundown
Lead me to thy fireplace
And let us reminisce ‘pamoja’
In great nostalgia we’ll reflect
Our exploits..
Our adventures..
As we traversed the fabric of romance
And like the birds we’ll sing
Bye Bye
Good day.

Kenya, for the MAMAland

We have Struggled for a Return
To Relevance and Acceptance
Year to Years, Decade to Decades
We,
Children of a Lesser God/ess

Trumpled Upon by Potatoes
Boots of Coloniality Twice Endured
Though we do not Thrive
Yet Still We Survive
Tenacious,
Persevering,
Enduring this,
Our Internal Colonialism!

We Shall rise
From these Dungeons
Of Extended Political ‘Exiles’
When the Dust
Of this Turmoil has Settled
And the Tides have Calmed
Into a Soothing Songness
We Shall rise again to Count
And hold to Account
Those Whose Selfishness
Roasted Our Nationhood
In the Cackling Fires of
Ethnic Xenophobia

DAUGHTER OF THE TOILING CLAN

Say,
Daughter of the Toiling Clan
the Cockerels scramble
to split your eardrums
their competing crows
announce yet another Dawn
the Communal farms lie Untouched
the crops choking in weeds
anticipating the monotonous efforts
of your wilting muscles
will you not to the routine rise

soon the babes will yell
pangs of hunger to quell
the cattle too must graze
for they too demand your care
a dose of your tenderness to share
will you not relieve them Mama

the relentless sun awaits
your tired skin to scorch
now you traverse distant hills
for the water you too must fetch, still
when do you rest your frame Mama

I saw you the other day
bent upon the forested paths
unthorning your cracked feet
singing of hope and joy and happiness

Ooh Daughter of the lowlands
a bundle of firewood lay still beside you
against approaching night you will rush
lest the drunkard goes into
spasmodic fits of infantile rage
and you spend the night by the granary!

say Mama,
Daughter of the toiling clan
when do you rest Mama
When

© November 2009

SING…

In the silent passage
Of idle moments
You sank your tentacles
Deeper into the darkness
Of lost purposes
The pursuit of fleeting
pleasures
You became but a master

Voluntarily you surrendered
To the abyss of vanity
Drank from septic wells
In the allure of dark testaments
You over-indulged

But now,

The crocodiles are singing
Celebrating
Your premature return
To the woods of vanity
Will the aroma of
Burning flesh
Tickle you to numb
Insanity?
Or will you, like they,
Just once more,
Swing to the rhythmic
Crescendo of fatal ecstasy?

SPOILING THE CELEBRATIONS

Do not spoil the beauty
Of the Celebrations,
I want so many a lifetime
Smiles to combine;
To enjoy utmostly
The short-lived pride of gowned men
Before the bitterness of potholing
Embraces me.

Scare me not today
Spoil not this occasion
With mention of weeds that await
To choke tender shoots
Tell me not of peakless anthills
Of the world yonder
Do not sing me your dirge-like songs
Of departure.

I do not care
For I want to drown in the glamour
Of this passing moment
And though for a few ‘masaa’,
Let me celebrate…
Ooh.. Let me bask in my laurels,
In the joy of conquest over putrid volumes
Whose authors adopted aerial view
Of mother Earth.

With a reason;
For a season
We ventured to taste
To drink from this fountain of wisdom
But now,
Reason within
Season having glided by
The world awaits
My armour to test.

More than ready too I stand
At point of no return
Where dreams and memories embrace
But for now…
I will rejoice
Ooh let me celebrate
Let the gown fill me with pride
And POWER
Ooh let me Celebrate.