AH, Deep and overstood, Life, Love, Politricks, War

THE ABYSS


In the abyss we snuggle with our demons then send them out for coffee in the morning.
In the abyss we need no serenity.
Because you accept what is and what isn’t. Then throw change on the difference.

In the abyss, there is no reality or dreams. Just calming nightmares.
In the abyss, we strangle hope with our heart chords.

In the abyss, we never open our eyes.
In the abyss we don’t look for the light.
For only in the darkness does our skin glow.
In the abyss there are no reflections.
Just deflections of positive thoughts.

In the abyss there is no heartbreak.
Just the slow cranky hum of rusty pacemakers.
In the abyss there are no strings to hold us back.
In the abyss, the limit is every human.

In the abyss we write but never read.
For in the nuclear storm, we will be red all over.
In the abyss, we already survived WWIII.

In the abyss, we didn’t die, because we were never alive.

#IAmKenyan, Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Politricks

John Paul’s Satire


Be still, my sorrow.

Stay asleep, my soul.

Flatter these sheep, show their dry coats.

Flutter lids in my sleep, dreams of dry jokes.

Endless jars of my transformation oil.

Door ajar and whispers of this son of the soil.

I lost my right to be wrong.

But still got this long con in my sights.

Red eyes are better than red thoughts.

I’m making a killing casting your lots.

I slit my throat to spite my tongue.

But all you see is the price of air exiting my lungs.

I set my foundation using your alms.

The ceiling of my impunity will be laid down by your arms.

 

I care, I promise you I care.

 

I care less of your pain and struggle.

As long as you caress my stains and sweep up my rubble.

I’m Marx and you just failed my class.

I lie in your confused conflict as you run out of gas.

I slay you at the same altar you worshiped your queen.

For you chose to care more about Keke than your teens.

By the rivers of this new Babylon is where I shall bury your capital.

Instantly highlighting these failures deemed societal.

Communal consumerism makes up the new deadly sins.

A gambler’s addiction yet only the house wins.

I wash the blood off my hands from this planned accident.

My promises like Pontiacs pirated off the silver coast.

At your crossroads with the train bearing down on you sets the precedent.

That your existence was only narrated by my ghost.

 

I wish I cared, really cared, because I don’t.

 

#IAmKenyan, Kenya, Life, Politricks

John is a legend – A Kenyan Pledge


IF YOU HEAR THIS MESSAGE

I will not start this with an introduction about how long I have been away. I will not even refer to the fact that my poems seems to fall on really shallow eardrums. I will not even admit how much of my fault that is. I am normally thinking of a movie I watched when I was 7, referencing an event that happened in 1992 whilst using words of songs produced in 2015. I am the anti type of Ken Saro Wiwa. Asking questions about the government while fearing for the lives of those I care about. Cowering behind rhymes and ambivalent statements. Hoping that some people will get it. A perfect example is this one. Wenyenchi’s theory

Today, that is not the case. I will be honest, I might be brutal, I might even shed some tears on this canvas. But believe you me, today, you will not leave this page trying to figure out what I was on about.

WHEREVER YOU STAND

This message is not being directed to a certain clique of people. I am not speaking to the Kikuyus, the Luos, the government, the voters, the apathetic or the believers.I am speaking to humans. I am asking you to pay heed. To grow, from whence you are. Be a better you. Stop looking at others. The vibes you project onto others reverberate across boundaries, religions and generations. If there is a problem around you. You are either the problem or you are fixing it.

I’M CALLING EVERY WOMAN, CALLING EVERY MAN

We have been part of years of women coming into literacy and power. Still miles away from the dream but women have been shaping and changing the world long before they could vote. Long before women were allowed to get an education. Long before they were allowed to lead. For isn’t every man who has led before, the son of a woman? Did not the same woman not teach him how to wipe his nose and tie his shoe laces? Does he not look up to her more than he can admit? Isn’t a man who believes in “genuine” feminism the proponent of the change the world needs? Isn’t he the guide other growing boys will need as a mentor?

WE’RE THE GENERATION

I have probably heard these 2 statements more than I  would care to count.

“This next generation of teenagers will be the worst adults ever.”

“Our generation was messed up by our parents.”

These statements come from the same group of double tapping, G.O.T loving, keyboard smacking 25 to 35 year old millennials.

They have relinquished their responsibilities in actually making sure they change themselves or mentor the younger generation not to follow into their what they call misplaced and misguided footsteps. The politician who is 30 has no difference from the one who is 60. Most of them are after power, money and fame. The pursuit of who will make the best sponsor.

WHO CAN’T AFFORD TO WAIT

“I will one day open a children’s home. I will one day give like 10% of my money to the poor”. I hear this every month from friends and colleagues. Meanwhile a girl who is 23 has been saving her pocket money by walking part of her distance to college. Keeping fit while at the same time giving others a chance at a well fed life if not a good life. I am in no way chastising you. You mostly choose how you live your life. You should not feel bad about what luck and hard work has borne you. But a bottle of Tusker and a fancy phone cover could buy 20 homeless kids lunch for the day. I am not suggesting that I am any better. I am just giving you an idea. A better way to see the world, a better way to see yourself.

“If you have done well in whatever business you are in, it is your duty to send the elevator back down” –Kevin Spacey

THE FUTURE STARTED YESTERDAY

I was watching the comedy Blackish. In Season 2, Episode title “Hope”, Anthony Anderson goes into a monologue that opens and rips your heart apart. It smashes your skull in as your mind blows all over your already stained carpet. And you go like: “You talking to me? You talking to me?”

“Oh, so you wanna talk about hope, ‘Bow? Obama ran on hope. Remember when he got elected? And we felt like maybe, just maybe, we got out of that bad place and made it to a good place. That the whole country was really ready to turn the corner. You remember that amazing feeling we had during the inauguration? I was sitting right next to you. We were so proud. And we saw him, get out of that limo, and walk alongside of it, and wave to that crowd. Tell me you weren’t terrified when you saw that. Tell me you weren’t worried that someone was gonna snatch that hope away from us like they always do. That is the real world, ‘Bow. And our children need to know that that’s the world they live in.”

In 1992/1993, I cannot be sure as I was very young. While my sister had taken me to Hospital in Limuru at a place we called “Kwa B/Fateri” (I would find out it was Patel years later). Clashes erupted between cops and people who were having a multi-party “Kamukunji”. My sister and I ran and had to plead with a shopkeeper to let us in. And then stay locked in that shop for the next 2 hours before the coast was clear. It has now been 23 years since then. We have enjoyed freedom of speech to a certain extent, we have enjoyed good leadership, again to a certain extent. But in the same years we have seen what complacency can yield. We are comfortable with watching other people’s fathers and sons protest injustice for our sake from the comfort of our homes. We have decided to use the word “reality” vs “idealism” as the reason for our inaction. Can you imagine how many people once thought slavery was a reality? How many people believed colonialism was a reality? Why do you choose to believe that impunity, corruption and injustice is?

AND WE’RE ALREADY LATE

We have seen that the quiet overlooking of laws and the constitution comes for your enemies, your opponents and then for you. We support laws only when they work for us. When the cops inhumanely beat up protesters, hawkers and looters. We nod and agree. Sometimes we even smile and make memes and then laugh some more. When the cops under the same training and disillusioned justice come for one of your own. You are up in arms. You will make noise and tell your friends about how you did not get a government tender because they needed a bribe. The truth is that is not the problem. You could not afford the size of the bribe. Otherwise you would be in jail every week for over-speeding and running red lights. How soon do you decide to change? How soon do you decide not to give up?

You have to let the fear go. We all die in the end. Death comes for us and we can only choose how to face it when it comes.

I don’t want this to be a write up that ignites a spark in one man that he uses to light up the world and burn all our hypocritical iniquities. I want this message to ignite just a big enough flame in every human. I don’t want this to be shared just so we can discuss how many likes it got and whether my blog stats are on the up. Thereafter the message will be lost and the point will one day be found in some deep rusty annals of the wreckage that would have become Kenya.

I am looking for that person who will read this and internalize it. Use it to change a friend or two, a generation or a family. Make sure that even if we don’t get to benefit from the fruits of our actions, our children or their children do; for we do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors but borrow it from our children.

There is nothing as strong as an idea. It gives more will for action than the reality can. The reality is scary but an idea, a probable future is full of hope. I am looking for the person who shall keep this idea burning. If you’re out there….

 

 

 

 

#IAmKenyan, Politricks

Meciria


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Wakaratha ngûkûratha na nyama ciaku îkûheo Njaû ûrîa wateire mûka.
Ngûcoka ngûhûrithie ihiga ta nguo cikîhurûo nî njûka.
Ndigiri cia Warubaga ti njirû ta cia Rîmuru.
No mîrigo cikuaga oroûmwe cia mwega na mûru.
Ûkîjûî ndî mbia ta mbîa ya kanitha îhong’okete îkagûa casino.
Îgaikia mîthirimo mbere ta taratari cia kariko.
Mwomboko ti witû thikû tûrî.
Nyîmbo maraina ta kîmero maranengererio bure.
Gûkû nîkuo ûkwenda gûikara?
Ndûreke ngûhûre kibiriti ûcure ta ikara?
Thuthaini nîmegûgwakîra mwîcûhio.
Merage ciana cia ciana ciaku ûrîa warî mûhiû.
Kîguoya kîanûkîire nyina.
Norîû we tiga ngui îno yaku ndûrî kîna.
Ndikuona ukîhonoka haha.
Thoguo athie kûrûa, nyûkwa ombirwo nî ngati.
Narîu megwîtharîkîire nginya ni matarûra cati.
Marakwîra ûritîte ta gîthana.
Na mareciria nî guoya nîkîo ûrathithina.
Irimû nîo tondû matirona kîrîa ubangîte.
Gîkuû gîaku gîgûciara mbara ona ûtanungîte.
Warî gîko matanakunîka maniûrû maku na bamba.
Narîu wariûka ûrî njamba.

Politricks

Jury has seized her


Friends, Kenyans, tourists, lend me your ears.

I come to bury the media, not to praise it.

The evil that men do lives after them.

The good is oft interred with their bonuses.

So let it be with the media.

The noble government.

Hath told you that the media was ambitious.

If it were so, it was a grievous fault.

And grievously hath the media answered it.

Here, under leave of the cabinet and the rest…

For the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

So are they all, all honourable men.

Come I to speak in the media’s funeral.

It was my friend, faithful and just to me.

But the Cabinet says, it was ambitious.

And the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

It has brought many captives to Parliament from Nyayo House.

Who wise words did the voters mind fill.

Did this in the media seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, the media has wept.

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.

Yet the Cabinet says it was ambitious.

And the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

You all did see, that on Kenya’s Ground Zero.

I did offer her a handkerchief as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Which she did thrice refuse.

Was this ambition?

Yet the Cabinet says it was ambitious.

And the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

I speak not to disprove what the government signed.

But I am here to speak for what i do know.

You all did love it once, not without a cause.

What cause withholds you then, to mourn for it?

O judgement! Thou art fled to brutish beasts.

And men have lost their reason.

Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with the media.

And I must pause till it come back to me.

Kimemia ’09

Crush, Deep and overstood, Jesus Christ, Kenya, Life, Love, Politricks

Rest in Peace The Divine Bandit


In her past they sang a song of victory.
They won the war.
In my past they sang my dirge.
Yet I won the war too.
But my victory was short-lived.
For a bullet fired in victory found its target on my knee.
And as I fell down to the ground.
My bayonet had gone through my throat and then tongue.
To say I was dumbfounded is understating it.
But their victory songs did not stop but the dirges did.
Because I did not die. I crawled to safety.
Away from their trampling celebratory feet.
I crawled to her.
She had seen me while atop her kraal.
She spread her “shuka” on the ground for me.
We fell in love in silence.
Then we became blood lovers.
As her fingers got covered in mine. Hers became cold.
Under the golden African sun.
Her wails were a harmony to the rapping of the “victors”.
In her sobs I found my inspiration.
Covered in her tears, I accepted my expiration.

To be continued when I rise again…